"Awake"
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I worked in a sleep laboratory back in my undergraduate days. I monitored people during the evenings while they slept, then went to class during the morning and worked transcribing dream reports in the afternoon. I'd mostly work 48 hour shifts and then work a crisis phone service till 3:00 a.m. on my days off.
There was a time when I struggled to fall asleep - but after a year of that schedule, I could sleep anywhere, anytime - standing in an elevator, lectures if the professor went off topic, etc.
One time I did do a 96 hour run of non-sleep - overscheduled and had an early morning physiology class. I sat in the first row as I thought that would motivate me to stay awake. My notes looked a bit like an EEG. Still, I was doing well till the professor somehow decided to a relate a story about his wife...I fell asleep sitting completely upright. Perhaps to amuse himself, the guy sitting behind me gave me a gentle nudge - perhaps wanting to see if I'd make it to the floor before waking up, but I did catch myself. I went to a vacant study room and was asleep within moments.
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I think the US miliatary did tests where they kept people awake for as long as possible. Eventually, I believe that some people died from lack of sleep.
ANd I dont think we really know why sleep is necessary, as the brain (of course different parts) is quite active during sleep
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I think the US miliatary did tests where they kept people awake for as long as possible. Eventually, I believe that some people died from lack of sleep.
ANd I dont think we really know why sleep is necessary, as the brain (of course different parts) is quite active during sleep
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There's a disease with a single symptom of not allowing a person to get to sleep. That one's fatal.
“After eight straight weeks of no sleep, Corke’s mental faculties were quickly fading. This cognitive decline was matched in speed by the rapid deterioration of his body. So compromised were his motor skills that even coordinated walking became difficult. One evening Corke was to conduct a school orchestral performance. It took several painful (though heroic) minutes for him to complete the short walk through the orchestra and climb atop the conductor’s rostrum, all cane-assisted.
As Corke approached the six-month mark of no sleep, he was bedridden and approaching death. Despite his young age, Corke’s neurological condition resembled that of an elderly individual in the end stages of dementia. He could not bathe or clothe himself. Hallucinations and delusions were rife. His ability to generate language was all but gone, and he was resigned to communicating through rudimentary head movements and rare inarticulate utterances whenever he could muster the energy. Several more months of no sleep and Corke’s body and mental faculties shut down completely. Soon after turning forty-two years old, Michael Corke died of a rare, genetically inherited disorder called fatal familial insomnia (FFI).”Excerpt From
Why We Sleep
Matthew Walker
This material may be protected by copyright."Now look here, you Baltic gas passer... " - Mik, 6/14/08
The saying, "Lite is just one damn thing after another," is a gross understatement. The damn things overlap.
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“After eight straight weeks of no sleep, Corke’s mental faculties were quickly fading. This cognitive decline was matched in speed by the rapid deterioration of his body. So compromised were his motor skills that even coordinated walking became difficult. One evening Corke was to conduct a school orchestral performance. It took several painful (though heroic) minutes for him to complete the short walk through the orchestra and climb atop the conductor’s rostrum, all cane-assisted.
As Corke approached the six-month mark of no sleep, he was bedridden and approaching death. Despite his young age, Corke’s neurological condition resembled that of an elderly individual in the end stages of dementia. He could not bathe or clothe himself. Hallucinations and delusions were rife. His ability to generate language was all but gone, and he was resigned to communicating through rudimentary head movements and rare inarticulate utterances whenever he could muster the energy. Several more months of no sleep and Corke’s body and mental faculties shut down completely. Soon after turning forty-two years old, Michael Corke died of a rare, genetically inherited disorder called fatal familial insomnia (FFI).”Excerpt From
Why We Sleep
Matthew Walker
This material may be protected by copyright.“After eight straight weeks of no sleep, Corke’s mental faculties were quickly fading. This cognitive decline was matched in speed by the rapid deterioration of his body. So compromised were his motor skills that even coordinated walking became difficult. One evening Corke was to conduct a school orchestral performance. It took several painful (though heroic) minutes for him to complete the short walk through the orchestra and climb atop the conductor’s rostrum, all cane-assisted.
As Corke approached the six-month mark of no sleep, he was bedridden and approaching death. Despite his young age, Corke’s neurological condition resembled that of an elderly individual in the end stages of dementia. He could not bathe or clothe himself. Hallucinations and delusions were rife. His ability to generate language was all but gone, and he was resigned to communicating through rudimentary head movements and rare inarticulate utterances whenever he could muster the energy. Several more months of no sleep and Corke’s body and mental faculties shut down completely. Soon after turning forty-two years old, Michael Corke died of a rare, genetically inherited disorder called fatal familial insomnia (FFI).”Excerpt From
Why We Sleep
Matthew Walker
This material may be protected by copyright.Surprising that chemically induced unconsciousness is not a treatment for that disease. I guess there's no way to turn off the brain but leave the REM parts motoring along.
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“After eight straight weeks of no sleep, Corke’s mental faculties were quickly fading. This cognitive decline was matched in speed by the rapid deterioration of his body. So compromised were his motor skills that even coordinated walking became difficult. One evening Corke was to conduct a school orchestral performance. It took several painful (though heroic) minutes for him to complete the short walk through the orchestra and climb atop the conductor’s rostrum, all cane-assisted.
As Corke approached the six-month mark of no sleep, he was bedridden and approaching death. Despite his young age, Corke’s neurological condition resembled that of an elderly individual in the end stages of dementia. He could not bathe or clothe himself. Hallucinations and delusions were rife. His ability to generate language was all but gone, and he was resigned to communicating through rudimentary head movements and rare inarticulate utterances whenever he could muster the energy. Several more months of no sleep and Corke’s body and mental faculties shut down completely. Soon after turning forty-two years old, Michael Corke died of a rare, genetically inherited disorder called fatal familial insomnia (FFI).”Excerpt From
Why We Sleep
Matthew Walker
This material may be protected by copyright.Surprising that chemically induced unconsciousness is not a treatment for that disease. I guess there's no way to turn off the brain but leave the REM parts motoring along.
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There was a UK show called "cracked" that was basically the same premise.
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I worked in a sleep laboratory back in my undergraduate days. I monitored people during the evenings while they slept, then went to class during the morning and worked transcribing dream reports in the afternoon. I'd mostly work 48 hour shifts and then work a crisis phone service till 3:00 a.m. on my days off.
There was a time when I struggled to fall asleep - but after a year of that schedule, I could sleep anywhere, anytime - standing in an elevator, lectures if the professor went off topic, etc.
One time I did do a 96 hour run of non-sleep - overscheduled and had an early morning physiology class. I sat in the first row as I thought that would motivate me to stay awake. My notes looked a bit like an EEG. Still, I was doing well till the professor somehow decided to a relate a story about his wife...I fell asleep sitting completely upright. Perhaps to amuse himself, the guy sitting behind me gave me a gentle nudge - perhaps wanting to see if I'd make it to the floor before waking up, but I did catch myself. I went to a vacant study room and was asleep within moments.
I worked in a sleep laboratory back in my undergraduate days. I monitored people during the evenings while they slept, then went to class during the morning and worked transcribing dream reports in the afternoon. I'd mostly work 48 hour shifts and then work a crisis phone service till 3:00 a.m. on my days off.
There was a time when I struggled to fall asleep - but after a year of that schedule, I could sleep anywhere, anytime - standing in an elevator, lectures if the professor went off topic, etc.
One time I did do a 96 hour run of non-sleep - overscheduled and had an early morning physiology class. I sat in the first row as I thought that would motivate me to stay awake. My notes looked a bit like an EEG. Still, I was doing well till the professor somehow decided to a relate a story about his wife...I fell asleep sitting completely upright. Perhaps to amuse himself, the guy sitting behind me gave me a gentle nudge - perhaps wanting to see if I'd make it to the floor before waking up, but I did catch myself. I went to a vacant study room and was asleep within moments.
Tried to nudge a guy awake in comparative anatomy lecture. Bad move. He fell over and took the desk with him.
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I'm good for about 48 hours. After that, you do not want me reading your slides or crossmatching your blood.
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I'm good for about 48 hours. After that, you do not want me reading your slides or crossmatching your blood.
I 'm good for about 48 hours. After that, you do not want me reading your slides or crossmatching your blood.
Sounds about right. At 36 hours, I was dragging my ass, at 48 I'd be dangerous.
Interestingly, I saw a study looking at the complication rate of surgery when the surgeon has been up most of the preceding night. There was no significant difference between that group and the group that got a full night's sleep.
The only explanation I can come up with is that, for the most part, surgery is a pretty mechanical thing. Little judgment is required in the OR, of course, unless something unusual comes along. It's pretty much repeat what you've done countless times before. The actual judgment a surgeon exhibits in the time before surgery, getting the patient ready, deciding whether to operate, and afterward, dealing with complications and post op care.
I'd love to see what @bachophile thinks about this.
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“After eight straight weeks of no sleep, Corke’s mental faculties were quickly fading. This cognitive decline was matched in speed by the rapid deterioration of his body. So compromised were his motor skills that even coordinated walking became difficult. One evening Corke was to conduct a school orchestral performance. It took several painful (though heroic) minutes for him to complete the short walk through the orchestra and climb atop the conductor’s rostrum, all cane-assisted.
As Corke approached the six-month mark of no sleep, he was bedridden and approaching death. Despite his young age, Corke’s neurological condition resembled that of an elderly individual in the end stages of dementia. He could not bathe or clothe himself. Hallucinations and delusions were rife. His ability to generate language was all but gone, and he was resigned to communicating through rudimentary head movements and rare inarticulate utterances whenever he could muster the energy. Several more months of no sleep and Corke’s body and mental faculties shut down completely. Soon after turning forty-two years old, Michael Corke died of a rare, genetically inherited disorder called fatal familial insomnia (FFI).”Excerpt From
Why We Sleep
Matthew Walker
This material may be protected by copyright.“After eight straight weeks of no sleep, Corke’s mental faculties were quickly fading. This cognitive decline was matched in speed by the rapid deterioration of his body. So compromised were his motor skills that even coordinated walking became difficult. One evening Corke was to conduct a school orchestral performance. It took several painful (though heroic) minutes for him to complete the short walk through the orchestra and climb atop the conductor’s rostrum, all cane-assisted.
As Corke approached the six-month mark of no sleep, he was bedridden and approaching death. Despite his young age, Corke’s neurological condition resembled that of an elderly individual in the end stages of dementia. He could not bathe or clothe himself. Hallucinations and delusions were rife. His ability to generate language was all but gone, and he was resigned to communicating through rudimentary head movements and rare inarticulate utterances whenever he could muster the energy. Several more months of no sleep and Corke’s body and mental faculties shut down completely. Soon after turning forty-two years old, Michael Corke died of a rare, genetically inherited disorder called fatal familial insomnia (FFI).”Excerpt From
Why We Sleep
Matthew Walker
This material may be protected by copyright.Wow!!
