My best friend
Before he died I was reading a monster of a book by Gabor Mate about trauma. I was reading it for pleasure, which, I think women my age do. But then he died and I couldn't fathom some sort of deep-seeded trauma being the cause, so I shelved the book. Then I read some books about depression in an attempt to better understand him in the days and weeks leading up to his death. It was better, It helped me to understand a condition I've never had. A big takeaway from that book was the way people with depression don't feel the passage of time the way I do. Every minute is an eternity.
But then the year went on and life went on, and he wasn't coming back so I stopped trying to figure out why he died and started reading for pleasure again; a Bob Marley book, a book by The Office ladies. At my sisters I found a book about the mysteries of sleep called Dreamland. Only when I opened it up and started reading did I start to see my best friend in every chapter. There he was, his condition right in front of me. I didn't realize how much of his life revolved around sleep and no sleep, but it truly did. Plagued by insomnia in his final days, of course lack of sleep was a piece of his downfall.
I wanted to diagnose him for years, but he didn't have much to go on and I'm not a healthcare professional (but that doesn't mean I didn't try). He drank too much on the daily, but even so that didn't explain his mysterious health issue. For 3 years he had high blood pressure. His 15 minute appointments with various doctors around the city weren't doing much so after a particularly bad bus ride to the deep south to see a specialist, he gave up, and declared he's not doing it anymore. The root cause of the high blood pressure that had been alarming doctors was going to have to remain unresolved. He would take the medication prescribed and move on with his life.
But it always bothered me, knowing his body was trying to communicate something to him, and him ignoring it. I would get fired up while watching a movie with him, googling his symptoms and rolling the conditions around in my head to see if they fit. I would throw out some suggestions, always just going back to the drinking, it must be the drinking right? But drinking alone doesn't cause high blood pressure.
The first time I thought of him in the sleep book was the chapter on night terrors.
The insomnia started in that house too, just a night or two of no sleep was enough to put him into a frenzy, panic in his eyes as he begged me to help him sleep. So I'm reading this book about sleep, and it's likening a couple of nights of sleeplessness to a bad acid trip, making a person experience visions and hear phantom sounds. That sounds like my friend during the last week of his life.
So there's no doubt he wasn't sleeping, but what was his diagnosis?
There was another thing he was doing, both 10 years earlier, and that last week. He was complaining of fear and worry everytime he swallowed. It was an anxiety about whether or not he'd be able to catch his breathe, fear he wouldn't be able to. He explained it to me many different times, many different ways. He said the therapist believed it was a preoccupation with his voice and his throat due to his line of work.
What if his daytime body was remembering his nighttime inability to catch his breath?
High blood pressure can be caused by sleep apnea, a condition where your breathing stops and starts while you're asleep. It's a serious disorder, that if left untreated, can cause heart attack, high blood pressure, or even death.
Could my friend have had undiagnosed sleep apnea? Would it not explain the preoccupation with catching his breath, the blood pressure, the insomnia? There is a link between major depressive disorder and sleep apnea.
I believe this was the root of his problem, undiagnosed sleep apnea, causing him distress in the night that he couldn't remember. I believe it had been going on for years.
I finished the book and nothing changed, my friend was still gone. I told a few people what I think may have happened with him, hoping they'd feel as vindicated as I did, but not so. One explained to me how we search in grief for answers, to questions that can't be answered.
I like to think I knew him better than anyone, and I believe he died of an undiagnosed health condition that led him down a road of distress he couldn't come back from. I needed to make better sense of a most senseless confusing death and I've done that. For me, it's the truth. I just wish we'd found it sooner.
But then the year went on and life went on, and he wasn't coming back so I stopped trying to figure out why he died and started reading for pleasure again; a Bob Marley book, a book by The Office ladies. At my sisters I found a book about the mysteries of sleep called Dreamland. Only when I opened it up and started reading did I start to see my best friend in every chapter. There he was, his condition right in front of me. I didn't realize how much of his life revolved around sleep and no sleep, but it truly did. Plagued by insomnia in his final days, of course lack of sleep was a piece of his downfall.
I wanted to diagnose him for years, but he didn't have much to go on and I'm not a healthcare professional (but that doesn't mean I didn't try). He drank too much on the daily, but even so that didn't explain his mysterious health issue. For 3 years he had high blood pressure. His 15 minute appointments with various doctors around the city weren't doing much so after a particularly bad bus ride to the deep south to see a specialist, he gave up, and declared he's not doing it anymore. The root cause of the high blood pressure that had been alarming doctors was going to have to remain unresolved. He would take the medication prescribed and move on with his life.
But it always bothered me, knowing his body was trying to communicate something to him, and him ignoring it. I would get fired up while watching a movie with him, googling his symptoms and rolling the conditions around in my head to see if they fit. I would throw out some suggestions, always just going back to the drinking, it must be the drinking right? But drinking alone doesn't cause high blood pressure.
The first time I thought of him in the sleep book was the chapter on night terrors.
We were roommates for years and years and his night terror screams would wake me with a fright, as he would hurl his body against something in his room. The first time he knocked over a wall of cds, the second time he went through his bedroom window. I would ask him what he was dreaming about and he said it was someone coming into his room, and his instinct was to dive at them.
The insomnia started in that house too, just a night or two of no sleep was enough to put him into a frenzy, panic in his eyes as he begged me to help him sleep. So I'm reading this book about sleep, and it's likening a couple of nights of sleeplessness to a bad acid trip, making a person experience visions and hear phantom sounds. That sounds like my friend during the last week of his life.
So there's no doubt he wasn't sleeping, but what was his diagnosis?
There was another thing he was doing, both 10 years earlier, and that last week. He was complaining of fear and worry everytime he swallowed. It was an anxiety about whether or not he'd be able to catch his breathe, fear he wouldn't be able to. He explained it to me many different times, many different ways. He said the therapist believed it was a preoccupation with his voice and his throat due to his line of work.
What if his daytime body was remembering his nighttime inability to catch his breath?
High blood pressure can be caused by sleep apnea, a condition where your breathing stops and starts while you're asleep. It's a serious disorder, that if left untreated, can cause heart attack, high blood pressure, or even death.
Could my friend have had undiagnosed sleep apnea? Would it not explain the preoccupation with catching his breath, the blood pressure, the insomnia? There is a link between major depressive disorder and sleep apnea.
I believe this was the root of his problem, undiagnosed sleep apnea, causing him distress in the night that he couldn't remember. I believe it had been going on for years.
I finished the book and nothing changed, my friend was still gone. I told a few people what I think may have happened with him, hoping they'd feel as vindicated as I did, but not so. One explained to me how we search in grief for answers, to questions that can't be answered.
I like to think I knew him better than anyone, and I believe he died of an undiagnosed health condition that led him down a road of distress he couldn't come back from. I needed to make better sense of a most senseless confusing death and I've done that. For me, it's the truth. I just wish we'd found it sooner.
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