By Nate L,

When I was in middle school, my dad’s snoring went from obnoxious to dangerous. He found it difficult to breathe while lying down, and he began waking abruptly in the night, gasping for breath. He was diagnosed with sleep apnea, and began using a CPAP therapy machine. For a while, he was alright. He still couldn’t spend much time in the pool or camp without his CPAP, but he was doing well. Then the unthinkable happened. My dad was convicted of a felony and sentenced to 3 and a half years in federal prison. We were all devastated, but it never occurred to us that the prison system itself could pose a danger to his health. America’s federal prison system displays a blatant disregard for the health of its inmates, a disregard that merely reflects the opinions of many Americans.

When my dad arrived at the Englewood federal prison in Denver, Colorado, he understandably wasn’t allowed to bring his CPAP with him, and instead had to request one from the medical services there. This wouldn’t have been a problem, but the medical professionals employed at Englewood were frequently overworked or apathetic, and requests for vital life-saving medicine could take weeks to process. Luckily, my dad managed to get his CPAP before suffering any permanent adverse effects, but the neglect didn’t stop at breathing machines. A friend of my father’s, a man called Bear, spent some time in the solitary confinement unit at Englewood. It was midwinter in Denver, and the cell had a broken window and little insulation. The cold was a constant danger, and inmates in solitary were forced to invent all sorts of tricks to keep heat in, but there wasn’t much that could really be done. The prison officials seemed to be of the opinion that, if no one was dying, there wasn’t a problem. After all, these men were convicted criminals. Who cared about their health?

This mentality regarding our inmates is far too prevalent and very damaging to those it effects. As the country with the second-highest incarceration rate in the world, we need to be concerned about how we treat our inmates, if only because we or our loved ones might end up in prison one day. I don’t mean that prison should be an enjoyable experience, but it should at least be safe. If an inmate needs medical help, it is our duty to ensure that he or she has access to it. To refuse such service would surely constitute cruel and unusual punishment, a concept that a disturbing number of Americans seem to be unaffected by. Remember, these inmates are people. They love, they feel, and they hurt, just like you and I.

If the idea of an inmate in pain doesn’t move you, then think of the others affected by the situation. My dad was lucky; he was never in serious medical danger, and he got care before his problem could become severe. But imagine how my nine-year old little sister would’ve been affected if her dad had gone off to prison, then died of completely preventable causes. My dad has since been released on parole, and was the one to carry the weight when my mom underwent several operations for kidney and thyroid cancer. How would we have made it through if the prison medical staff had felt a bit less urgency in getting a CPAP for a new inmate? I can’t see how we would have. The inmates aren’t the only ones affected by our collective lack of empathy for them. If our prison system lets an inmate die, it crushes a family, destroys a daughter, and scars a son.

My dad’s sleep apnea affects him to this day, but the availability of CPAP therapy has nearly made it a non-issue. He doesn’t fear for his life every time he lies down to sleep at night. My siblings and I have our father back, and all is well. This is the ending I want to see for each of the over 1.5 million inmates in this country. Our inmates are serving out their sentences. Don’t risk their lives as well.

By Natasha D,

“Hey girls, does Booboo ever hit you in the face at night while you are trying to sleep?” my mother asked my sister and I one morning.

“Uh no, he just knocks all our stuff over,” I replied.

“I bet it is because you snore like a freight train!” my little sister said laughing.

My mother has snored ever since I started forming memories. She snores so loudly at times that she has awoken the whole house up. Booboo was a rescued cat I got when I was in first grade. We bottle fed him as a kitten, so he only knew us as his family. At the time, this event was occurring he was still a very young energetic cat. Every night for two years our orange tabby would sleep next to my mother in bed. At random intervals throughout the night, my mother would be awoken to Booboo hitting her in the face with his paw. He did it over and over until she woke up and told him to go away. Mom started noticing she was not getting a very restful night’s sleep.

Mom started locking the door to her bedroom before she went to bed at night. Booboo can open all the doors in the house except if they are locked, so this kept him from going into the room and waking her up. She continued to notice that she was not getting a restful amount of sleep even without the cat in her bedroom. She also noticed that she would wake herself up at night feeling as though she could not catch her breath. After about a week of this occurring, she decided that it was not the cat that was making her not get a restful night’s sleep. Worrying about her Diabetes, she mentioned the

occurrences to her doctor. The doctor sent her to a sleep specialist where they hooked her up to all sorts of machines and watched her sleep to determine why she was not sleeping well.

The results came back and stated that my mom was suffering from Sleep Apnea. She was not getting a restful night’s sleep because she would quit breathing during the night. The doctors ordered her a CPAP machine soon after the diagnosis. She allowed Booboo to again sleep in her room. Every night until she received her breathing machine, Booboo would again go through his routine of waking her up by hitting her with his paw over and over. She would wake up and tell him to go away; he would, then repeat the same actions again later in the night.

My mother receiving her CPAP machine has dramatically changed the way that she acts. Instead of waking up tired and grouchy, she wakes up in a good mood felling refreshed and ready for the day. Having a CPAP machine also improved the ability for her to control her diabetes more effectively. Her blood glucose levels are maintained enough now because she is getting enough sleep, that she does not have to take insulin like she once did.

Not only has the CPAP machine helped my mother sleep, it also quiets her snoring and coughing in her sleep. It was so bad that many times my sister and I would sleep with a pillow and all our blankets over our heads. Before the machine, she was always grumpy. When she would take us to school, many times she would get us to school late because she just could not get moving in the morning before the machine.

Booboo turns 15 this year. He remains the hero of our household. At the time, no one realized it, but he was saving my mother’s life every time he would wake her up. He could somehow tell that she was not breathing, and put his best effort into waking her up to breath. Presently, Booboo never wakes

my mom up at night unless she falls asleep without her CPAP machine on. Boo remains the guardian of the house as he watches over everyone going from room to room to check on us. He frequently opens the doors just that to ensure his family is alright inside their individual rooms.

By: Matias B

No wonder every time I seated myself in pre-calculus my eyes would droop into slumber. A slumber so needed, yet so misunderstood, fighting the urge was my greatest battle during class. Pop quizzes were my worst nightmare. Barely alert enough to answer the simplest of questions, I quivered at the thought of disappointing my teachers. No one tolerated my inattentive behavior because sleep apnea was simply not a proper “excuse”. They claimed I was just “lazy,” “confused”, “ill prepared”, or “uninterested” in school. But how I wanted to succeed in school; how long I stayed up studying before the curse of irregular sleep patterns haunted the night. Still, when the time came to deliver my knowledge, waves of fatigue pulled me to stupor like quicksand in the struggle to break free.

Processing information, using memory, learning, and effective working strategies during day time hours were luxuries most of my friends took for granted. Complaints from my peers of getting only 5 hours of sleep the night prior were common; unfortunately, I could not find sympathy. Coming from a place where I woke up anywhere from 4 to 6 times an hour, it was like comparing a nightmare with sleep-deprivation torture. If only they could feel the experience. If only they could—just for once—witness firsthand, shortness of breath the countless times I did every night. The only relief you could find, in the life-partner machine occupying the left side of the bed.

The mask that covers my face through the night renders me a patient of illness, but the world can’t seem to recognize it. All they see are the waking hour effects of a sleep disorder on performance, executive functioning, and attentiveness—qualities that when cultivated are required to be successful in a competitive world. But in a cutthroat society, who really cares? As long as you succeed, the steps taken are overlooked and undervalued. I need continuous positive airway pressure therapy (CPAP) just to avoid the debilitating effects of sleep apnea on efficient work. At the same time, I can’t blame my condition for the hurdles in my life; I need to push onward and manage like everyone else. I need to transform the torture of sleep apnea into an impractical nightmare and find perspective on the greater issues in life. Each one of us has our own respective obstacles to overcome, and mine is just a breath away.