I thought that I was going senile.  I was only in my early 40s, but I was coming apart.  

I was putting on more and more weight.  Just getting up and going to work was a chore.  I was constantly tired.  I took vitamins and drank coffee, but it didn't help.  I wanted to sleep all the time.  I would sleep as long as 12 hours at a stretch, and wake up more tired than I was when I went to bed.

My wife wasn't sleeping well, either.  Yes, she was worried about me, but I was snoring loud enough to peel paint off the ceiling.  A fellow with whom I shared a room overnight referred to me as "the foghorn."

I couldn't concentrate on my work.  My mind would drift away after only a few minutes.  I would be lecturing to a class, and hopelessly lose my train of thought in the middle of the lecture.  I would forget about conversations moments after I had them.  I would write something, and have to go over it multiple times to make sure that it made sense.

Then things started getting really serious.  One day, I was typing a letter at my desk.  In mid-sentence, I fell asleep and began to snore.  Loud.  When I awoke, I first saw a computer screen full of "sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss."  Then I saw about 5 or 6 of my colleagues, standing in my office, staring at me.  They thought I was having a stroke.

Another day, I was driving home from work, and drove almost 50 miles out of my way because I couldn't remember how to get home.  I was becoming worried that I would fall asleep at the wheel and kill myself -- or kill someone else.

Finally, my wife insisted that I see a doctor.  It was the day I didn't pay our mortgage because I couldn't remember how to find the mortgage office, even though I had driven there every month for two years.

When we got to the doctor's office, my wife had to explain my problem, because I couldn't remember why I was there.  We described what had been going on, and my doctor suddenly broke out in a big smile.  He said, "I think we can help you."

He explained that he suspected I was suffering from sleep apnea, a disorder that causes people to literally stop breathing during sleep when their airway collapses.  (There are a number of things that can cause your airway to collapse, which I won't detail here.)  Usually the body partially wakes you up, and you start breathing again.  Then the cycle repeats.  Result: you never really fall into a deep sleep.  The more you try to sleep, the more sleep-deprived you become.

Unless, of course, you stop breathing and don't start again.  Then you die in your sleep.

I was referred to our local hospital, which has a sleep disorders laboratory.  First, there was an introductory interview with a doctor who specialized in sleep disorders.  Then, I checked in one evening, laid down, and was hooked up to what seemed like a thousand wires and sensors.  The technician explained that, to confirm the diagnosis of sleep apnea, I needed to stop breathing 100 times.  He shut off the lights, and told me to go ahead and go to sleep.

The next thing I knew, he woke me up.  I had stopped breathing 100 times.  It took only 45 minutes.  I had sleep apnea.  Severe sleep apnea.

Then he introduced me to a machine called a Continuous Positive Airway Pressure (CPAP) machine.  It's designed to force air into your nose under pressure, which keeps your airway open.  I put on what look like a modified fighter pilot's mask, the technician fitted it for me, and turned it on so I could try it.  I couldn't breathe at first, because my nose was too stuffy -- I had had sinus congestion problems for years.  The technician produced some decongestant, which I used.  After a few minutes, we tried again, and this time all was well.

The technician explained that I needed to go back to sleep, while he determined a proper air pressure setting for my needs.  So, off to sleep I went, wearing a new piece of hardware.

At six o'clock that morning, he woke me up and said it was time to go home.  I had slept with the CPAP machine for four hours.  I noticed that my hip was very sore from laying in one spot.  I was used to tossing and turning all night -- I called it "being on the rotisserie" -- but after I put on the mask, I never shifted position again.

I also noticed that I felt more rested, and more alert, than I had in months.  In fact, I felt like a new man!  And this was from only four hours of good, deep sleep.

When I got home, I was excited.  I felt like doing things again!  That got my wife excited.  My insurance company rented out a new CPAP machine for me, which I began using.  In a few months, when they determined that I was, indeed, using the machine every night, they bought it for me.

It's been more than four years now.  I still sleep hooked up to the CPAP machine every night.  My doctor says I will probably be on the machine for the rest of my life.  Yes, it has its disadvantages.  There is some cleaning and maintenance involved, and when I travel, the machine has to travel with me.  I had to buy an extra-loud alarm clock, because I now sleep so deeply that a normal alarm won't wake me up.  I can't talk while I'm breathing on the machine -- if I try, it feels like I'm going to blow my brains out!

But I am now very well rested on much less sleep.  In fact, my wife now can't get to sleep unless she hears the soft whirr of the CPAP machine.  I no longer snore.  Our room is very quiet at night.  I feel terrific.  I've started an exercise program -- something I never had the energy to do before.  I've developed hobbies.  I like to go out again.  My mind works clearly.  I can concentrate.

I have my life back.

If any of the symptoms above describe you, get help -- now.  It's available.  Talk to your doctor.  You don't have to live that way.