
If you're like most busy gamers, you sneak in play at odd hours. Maybe a quick DS break in the bathroom and a lengthy PC or console run while the rest of the family is in bed. If it’s the only time you can enjoy your favorite M-rated games, you'll stay up at least once a week until you can't keep your eyes open.
The problem with these late night excursions is that they eat away at your sleep time, which - over many years - can severely erode your health.
Especially if, like me, you have sleep apnea.
I actually went to the doctor because my snoring was keeping awake GrrlGotGame (who's a very light sleeper), and she mentioned that she thought I had stopped breathing on occasion - a classic symptom of sleep apnea. I'm such a deep sleeper myself, I wouldn't notice if I partially awoke gasping for air - which is the extreme version of this.
The only daytime symptom I noticed was, a few years back, I started developing a particularly bad case of the late afternoon sleepies, which prompted me to get my thyroid checked. Negative. So I just corrected it in typical Seattle fashion: lots of coffee.
My doctor recommended I see a specialist to find out whether I qualified for a sleep study, an expensive proposition but one that my insurance would mostly cover. I agreed, and was promptly admitted for an overnight at Harborview Medical Center. They put me up in a faux hotel room with no windows behind the curtains and a great sleep tech who also happened to be a gamer. As he wired me up with sensors and instructed me on proper protocols, we chatted about our favorite games. He was playing
The World Ends With You - his favorite pastime when not watching people toss and turn on the monitors all night - and nearly convinced me to try it.
After a bunch of calibration exercises to ensure all of the sensors were working, I plugged in my iPod and tried to drift off to sleep. It was the worst night of my life. It felt like I woke up a dozen times; the official report says I awakened 35 times PER HOUR due to a recorded 91 apneas (no breathing) and 278 hypopneas (very shallow breathing). During the worst part of the night, my poor respiration brought my oxygen levels so low that it was comparable to sleeping near the summit of Mount Everest!