Bruce Corcoran is the managing editor of The Chatham Daily News. Here is an interesting account of his suffering with the deadly disease called sleep apnea disorder.
Tonight my summer movie will likely be “Sleepless in Leamington.” This despite going to a sleep clinic.
I’m back to the Leamington Sleep Lab to get fitted for a mask and test drive a CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine.
Basically, a CPAP is a unit with a fan that blows air down a hose into the mask around your nose, which in turn sends that air into your nostrils.

Sounds like a great way to sleep, NOT!
But I’m told once I get used to it this contraption will help me get a better night’s sleep and will help lower my blood pressure.
I’ve got sleep apnea, I’m told, where I stop breathing an average of about 20 times an hour (if I read the index correctly), and upwards of 46 times an hour while on my back.
That can’t be good. Then again, if it were a contest, I’d be well back of some friends who also have sleep apnea. Some of these boys have it upwards of 60 or more times an hour.
Talk about a poor spectator sport, one that our spouses have no doubt been unhappily watching for years.
With sleep apnea disorder , as you fall into a deeper sleep, your throat muscles relax, which cuts off the flow in your airway. As a result, your body is working to inhale, but isn’t getting any air. You startle yourself awake in the process and gasp in a breath.
Well, you don’t fully wake, but your sleep cycle is messed up regardless. Not only are you almost awake many times an hour, you don’t get enough deep sleep to feel rested.
There are certainly days when I’m dragging my butt around the office. Hmm.
I knew I snore, but never thought I had sleep apnea. Now I know.
And now I will get fitted with a device that will make sleeping a challenge, but only for the short term.
My wife will exchange her nightly a spot beside Snorville Redenbacher for a chance to cuddle up with Darth Vader.
The CPAP machines are supposed to be extremely quiet, but it’s the air that goes into the mask, and my imagination, plus my warped sense of humour, that will have me doing bad Vader impressions, much to my wife’s chagrin.
Then again, some of it won’t be my fault. I’m told by the crew of friends who have CPAPs that I won’t be sleeping with my mouth open -the air will blast through my nostrils and right out my uncovered mouth. That sounds like a childish joke waiting to scare the heck out of my wife at about 3 a. m.
Also, there’s supposed to be an exhaust tube on the mask, I’m told, where the exhaled air, and excess pressurized air is expelled. If I don’t place that tube over the headboard, I might wind up inadvertently blowing air in my wife’s face in the middle of the night.
I’ll aim for the ear. Yeah, that will go over well.
When I first heard the internist tell me I had sleep apnea, I briefly debated continuing on without the machine. But considering how many nights my snoring sends my wife into the spare bedroom and how burned out I feel at times, this will ultimately be good for everyone involved.
I’m sure my daughter will be very curious and will want to try the thing on too. May as well let her get very familiar with it, as it could scare the heck out of her when she comes into the room after a bad dream and thinks Mommy is sleeping with Jason from the Friday the 13th movies.
Bird update: Those pesky feathered fiends have pretty much moved out of the backyard and into the country, but the haunting continues. I plan on replacing my porch light this weekend, as the motion sensor is toast. For whatever reason (the commando robin) the light is on the blink.
On top of this, each night my truck spends parked on the road under the neighbour’s maple tree is one where the birds gleefully drop some carefully placed poop.
They’ve now got an uncanny knack of hitting the driver’s side window, and it seems to be done minutes before I get in the vehicle to drive to work. No matter how well I wipe it off, there always seems to be a little leftover on the rubber part of the door that fits right up against the window.
I always roll down my windows, eschewing the air conditioning in favour of natural ventilation.
And I always end up with bird poop on my forearm as I unwittingly put my left arm on the door.
Oh, well, maybe the CPAP machine will leave me a little brighter in the morning and this repetition will cease.