Showing posts with label perception. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perception. Show all posts

Monday, February 4, 2013

Sleep, perception and reality

When I was in the rehab facility in the UK, I began to get annoyed at how often my sleep was being disturbed. At the time, I was a falling risk, which included the possibility that I might fall out of bed and be unable to get up off the floor. Never mind that I hadn't fallen out of bed for over thirty years, or that I knew how to get up, with great difficulty, but I could do it; I was a falling risk, so a carer came and checked on me every hour.

Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, since they would open the door quietly, check that I was still snoozing, and begone. My left eye, however, didn't close properly, and still doesn't: the lower lid doesn't work yet. So the carer could be as quiet as you like, but the room would suddenly brighten for a moment. My brain would perceive the light, and wake me up, just as the carer closed the door and went on their merry way, oblivious to having woken me up.

Eventually, I managed to get them to leave me alone, and then moved down to Dorset where my room was quiet and dark all night, but I discovered that I was sleeping less than I had before the stroke. This is sufficiently unusual post-stroke that I was surprised, and initially skeptical but it seemed that, independently of how tired I got, I actually slept less.

I suspected that how grumpy I felt after a 'bad' night's sleep did not necessarily correlate with the actual quality of rest, or whether I slept enough. Being a fan of science (or a giant nerd, take your pick), I decided to test this using "Sleep as Android" to provide a third party opinion on how soundly I slumbered. The app had the added benefit of recording any noise made, so I would also find out if losing weight meant that I snored less, and whether I talked in my sleep, which would be an exciting new brain damage development.

The data demonstrate, to my satisfaction, that it's possible to get a good night's sleep, but have such a strong memory of being awake, that I feel as though I slept poorly, and am grouchy. The converse is not true: I never think that I slept well, when I did not. Also, the snoring and accompanying apnoea are gone (yay!), and I am not a chatty napper (boo?).

At the same time as I formulated my hypothesis, the notion of a "second sleep" was doing the rounds. For all I know, it's been debunked, but it coincided with my discovery that I tend to zonk out completely for 3-4 hours, wake up for a bit, then go back to sleep more or less soundly. If I try to sleep more when I wake up, it doesn't work, and I end up sleeping less on balance. If, instead, I get up, go to the bathroom, read a bit, check email, and go back to bed, all within about half an hour, no more than an hour, then I sleep well for my second sleep.

TL;DR: My sleep patterns are weird, but not as weird as mischaracterizing sleep that was good as being bad on the basis of short-term memory. If you're grouchy from bad sleep, make sure you're actually sleeping poorly with a cunning machine. Also, I don't snore, boys.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

A Tale from Stroke-Land

A tale from stroke-land. I went for a coffee after a very long and slightly tedious induction into a research study*, and got it in a cup to go. Now I'm sure you all know this, since you don't live under rocks, but a typical sippy cup lid has two openings: one large one at the edge for the coffee to come out of, and a smaller one, often in the middle of a recycling logo, for air to flow into while coffee flows out. If the lid is properly constructed, air and coffee both flow smoothly, rather than having jerky splashes of scalding fluid and the like.

Alas, the second, air aperture was, as it so often is, completely inadequate, and thanks to coffee splashing against it from the inside was quite closed. No problem! Take the cup back to the counter, which was otherwise unoccupied, and ask to borrow a pen or pencil to poke a bigger hole. I have done this many times.

What's new is that now one of my glasses lenses is occluded, the left side of my face is still largely palsied, although no longer actually droopy, and I walk with a stick.

"This hole here is where the coffee comes out."

I shit you not. The young lady in question assumed I was too stupid or brain damaged to know which end the coffee came out. There followed, to the amusement of a nurse who had appeared wanting a coffee, a rapid discourse on elementary fluid dynamics, the correct application of the pencil, and a satisfying coffee.

To be fairer than I feel warranted, it's entirely possible she's encountered a whole string of patients incapable of drinking coffee, but it dismays me that her automatic response was to assume that I was loopy, rather than making sense. I went away with my objective achieved and a tasty coffee, but the lingering sense that she thought I was crazy for wanting a bigger air hole, and that she was used to dealing with all sorts of hospital crazies, so whatever. Before I looked the way I currently do, her assumptions would likely have been different.


* A study into the effects of adding use of the Wii to regular physio for stroke sufferers who have dominant side deficits. I don't find out until next Tuesday whether I get a Wii for six weeks, or I'm in the control group.