On Covid Insomnia and Vulnerability

One of the oddest symptoms of my Covid is insomnia. What makes it especially odd is that I can't sleep even when I feel very fatigued.  This has, in fact, been one of the few constant symptoms during my illness (recall here). I don't have much trouble falling asleep at night unless I have a headache or extreme dizziness. But I often wake after four to six hours sleep (regardless of needing a pitstop or not), and then I cannot fall back asleep. It makes little difference whether I have taken a (mild) sedative or not.*

Now in my earlier posts (here), I tried to capture what it's like to experience the granularity of thinking that characterizes 'brain fog.' In contrast, during my insomnia, I feel like my brain speeds up, as if I am having manic episodes or experiencing the side effects of (recall) a prednisone treatment. But this mania does not inspire action; I don't feel the need to write (which I doubt I could). I just lay there, catatonically, yet ardently wishing to fall back asleep, my mind racing often prompted by an inchoate desire to understand my unusually vivid and action packed dreams and then moving on madly from topic to topic even though I really want to sleep.

There is one other feature that is odd about my insomnia. I do not actually have much memory of the content of these thoughts other than that they feel so rapid. It's as if the mind is spinning, trapped inside my lethargic body, but no traces are being registered in memory. 

When I initially contacted my GP, now more than a month ago, before it was clear I was suffering from Covid, I mentioned the insomnia to her and she thought I might be suffering from stress. I have had ample time to reflect on her suggestion. When I am stressed I do sleep badly. But often then my thoughts turn obsessively to the cause of my nerves or some conflict that, with little extra reflection, is clearly a way not to deal with the underlying sources of anxiety. My current insomnia is nothing, or almost never, like that. (I use 'almost never' because I have, as I have noted before, a low-level panic I may never be able to teach or read seriously again.) 

When I shared my insomnia with members of my covid 'fellowship'--other 'long haulers' within the profession that reached out to me quietly and that have been generous confidantes and sources of support--it sounded familiar to several of them. But a few also reported that the spinning mind was accompanied by their racing, even palpating heart. (That would scare me.)

The contrast between the blurry days of fatigue and dizziness, alternated with headaches, and the endless hours of sad, fast-paced noctural noths could, I imagine, descend into delirium. Luckily the presence of my family creates a sense of rhythm and structure by sharply marking night and day. 

A part of me would like to understand the bio-chemistry that creates such disjointed cognitive and neurological effects on me. One of the few books I managed to read during my illness was a novella, All Systems Red, which revolves around a robot, Murderbot, that senses it malfunctions and knows it has malfunctioned before. The mood of that bot, which when not called upon feats I can barely imagine doing while healthy, passes the day watching serials, is not far removed from my own.  

I wrote most of this post yesterday, which was one of the best days I have had since I was diagnosed with Covid. Compared to two weeks ago -- which was clearly the nadir -- things are looking up. This past week, I have had several day-time periods in which I did not have any noticeable symptoms at all despite the unceasing insomnia. It is difficult to feel genuinely optimistic because good periods are not enduring. Yesterday my intention had been to use the structure of this post for some reflections on the nature of disability and vulnerability within professional philosophy/academy. (Because I have been replaced within my lecture course with videos of last year's lectures, I had watched a video recording of myself lecturing.) But today is not one of the best days, so I won't go on and leave that for another time. 

 

 

*Because of the fear that my brain fog may permanently prevent me from teaching and reading again, I am very hesitant about using heavy, addictive sedation.

  

Comments

[dmf]

ah yeah slow down yer breathing to interrupt the feedback loops and try
https://medlineplus.gov/druginfo/meds/a682539.html
at night a couple of hours before you hope to sleep.

[Barb Wimsatt]

Eric Sorry to hear that this is continuing so long. Perhaps the good days are a sign it is slowly getting better. Hopefully!

By the way your insomnia sounds something like mine. Sometimes 3 or 4 days with 3 or 4 hours of sleep and then a couple of days of crashing for 6 or so. I think in my case it’s aging. But it’s not fun in any case.

Hopefully yours will soon improve! 🌹

[Aaron Lercher]

The insomnia might be anxiety and depression prompted by everything you are going through. But I'm merely saying that based on my own life, not on any knowledge beyond that.

Are you able to take walks during the day? Exercise? Just take care of yourself as well as you can. You are giving yourself a lot of time, which is good.