Janknitz wrote: ↑Sun Oct 30, 2022 3:47 pm
I HATED my CPAP at first. Every night would find me throwing the mask at the wall. Wanting to break the mask, break the machine, kill me. I worked two jobs, attended class at night, had two young kids at that point, and I couldn't sleep with the damn thing.
But my husband couldn't sleep with me any more. He made light of it, bought fuzzy footy pajamas and froze sleeping on the couch. And I knew I was going to die, because I stopped breathing more than 80 times an hour. I'd watched my mom, whose snores could raise the roof off the house, die a slow and agonizing death with dementia. Failure at CPAP was not an option.
So I strapped it on every time I got in bed. If I woke up and threw it across the room, I'd pick it up, strap it back on. Lie awake seething with anger and frustration. Every night, every time. I went through 9 masks. NINE. I fought it all, and I fought not to fail. I made simple goals. To sleep 2 hours with the mask on. To sleep 3 hours with the mask on. Like climbing Mt. Everest. Made it 2 hours 2 nights in a row, then didn't sleep for a whole night. 2 steps forward, 3 steps back. Keep going. For my husband, for my children, for my brain, for me. Hate, hate, hate. Strap it on ANYWAY. EVERY NIGHT, EVERY TIME.
And then . . .
I woke up in the morning. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, I slept all night. Instead of angry and ready to kill someone or something, I woke up feeling peaceful, and calm, like I'd just had the best, most relaxing drug in the world. Last time I woke up feeling that way I remember very distinctly. I still slept in a crib then.
One good night . . .
A few bad ones. But I want a good night like that again. I could get addicted to those.
Another good night, then another. I just tried to count the good nights. Now more good nights than bad nights. And finally, I barely remember when I last had a "bad night". I won.
Thank You for that honest and beautiful post!
Now the really bad nights happen if I can't use my machine for some reason--I wake up gasping for air. That's what a real bad night looks like--dying a little death that I got too used to before CPAP. No more. My husband sleeps beside me, my kids are adults and some day we will get the youngest on to her own two feet. I lived to see this, even though I hated that machine. I put that mask on every night. Every time.
It's OK to hate it. It's not OK to give up.