Paul Malik: I'd be dead without NHS Tayside sleep clinic

Without help from the sleep clinic, I’d be dead.

It sounds a bit dramatic, and if it is as uncomfortable to read as it has been to write, I apologise.

But it’s no understatement when I say the treatment I’ve had from this at-risk service has saved my life.

And the idea others might miss out on it because of budget cost-cutting is enough to keep me up at night.

What it’s like not to sleep

Without treatment, chronic obstructive apnoea sufferers suffocate in their sleep.

When I was monitored ahead of being diagnosed, I recorded 65 incidents an hour where I didn’t breathe for more than 10 seconds.

This results in a massive, full-body spasm as your brain kicks-in and tries to wake you up, convinced you’re dying.

Sleep apnoea oxygen mask equipment and CPAP machine. Image: Shutterstock.

You’re unaware of it, but everyone else in your house hears your distress. Think snoring turned up to 11.

For every hour I slept, I was only really asleep for about 10 minutes.

The next day, you’re shattered. You fall asleep mid-conversation.

For me, I would walk around in that space between being asleep and being awake, usually reserved for when your head hits the pillow after a busy day.

My mind would start to “dream” conversations I’d be mid-way through before conking out, or make-up whole sentences in passages I was reading. My grasp on reality started to slip.

Survival mode

And when you don’t sleep your body goes into survival mode.

All you can focus on, from the moment you wake-up, is consuming enough quick-burn calories to continue the war of attrition that is keeping your eyes open.

This makes weight-loss nigh impossible. Every attempt at creating a calorie deficit plummets. And you can forget about having the energy to go for a walk or the gym. That instead goes wholesale into keeping you awake.

Obesity costs the NHS around £6.5 billion a year and is the second biggest preventable cause of cancer.

Sufferers of the disorder rely on a machine to help them breathe during the night. Image: Mhairi Edwards/DC Thomson.

My lack of sleep contributed to my obesity. I went from being fit and healthy in my 20s, playing rugby and taking up boxing, to barely being able to walk without getting out of breath.

It wasn’t the only cause. Pints and pizza is a persuasive lifestyle. But it was the biggest factor.

And mentally, it’s devastating.

I was chucking anti-depressants into my mouth as part of a morning ritual involving gallons of coffee and Monster caffeine drink, unable to work out why I was thinking what I was thinking when my life, on the outside, was good.

Two beautiful children, a happy wife, a roof over my head, a good job.

Crammed waiting lists

From visiting my GP to receiving a CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine, took 18 months.

The sleep clinic at Ninewells is already grossly underfunded and chronically understaffed.

There was one nurse I spoke with, 12 months after seeing my doctor, who called to say I was “probably suffering from obstructive sleep apnoea”.

As is almost always the case, she was lovely. Sympathetic. Endearing. Worked to near exhaustion.

You then attend a group session with fellow sufferers. A mix of young and old, fat, thin, physically fit and infirm. All with the same look in their heavily-hooded eyes.

We need to reassess how we approach health care in Scotland. We know the NHS is on its knees.

Any doctor worth their stethoscope will tell you preventative medicine is much more effective than trying to patch someone up after the event.

Communicating that is one of the toughest challenges facing the NHS.

And yet, if we keep cutting funding to services like the sleep clinic, that battle is already lost.

Even if, and I am loathe to do so, we break patients down to pounds and pence, then treating a problem like sleep apnoea head-on saves tens of thousands “down the line”.

Since starting CPAP treatment, I’ve lost 12kgs.

There’s still a long way to go. I’ve come off the anti-depressants. I’ve lessened my chance of debilitating stroke. I’ve curbed the chance of heart disease, which has claimed a number of relatives. I don’t fall asleep mid-conversation.

But most importantly, I’ve been able to make changes to my lifestyle which, hopefully, won’t see my beautiful children grow-up without a dad.