Figure 11: NBA Player Performance
More than Eight Hours Sleep vs. Less than Eight Hours Sleep
Of course, most of us do not play for professional sports teams. But many of us
are physically active throughout life and constantly acquiring new skills. Motor
learning and general physicality remain part of our lives, from the banal (learning
to type on a slightly new laptop or text on a different-size smartphone) to the
essential, such as experienced surgeons learning a new endoscopic procedure or
pilots learning to fly different or new aircraft. And so, therefore, we continue to
need and rely upon our NREM sleep for refining and maintaining those motor
movements. Of interest to parents, the most dramatic time of skilled motor
learning in any human’s life occurs in the first years after birth, as we start to
stand and walk. It is of little surprise that we see a spike in stage 2 NREM sleep,
including sleep spindles, right around the infant’s time of transition from crawling
to walking.
Returning full circle to that which I had learned years ago at the Queen’s
Medical Center regarding brain damage, we have now discovered that the slow,
day-by-day return of motor function in stroke patients is due, in part, to the hard
night-by-night work of sleep. Following a stroke, the brain begins to reconfigure
those neural connections that remain, and sprout new connections around the
damaged zone. This plastic reorganization and the genesis of new connections
underlie the return of some degree of motor function. We now have preliminary
evidence that sleep is one critical ingredient assisting in this neural recovery
effort. Ongoing sleep quality predicts the gradual return of motor function, and
further determines the relearning of numerous movement skills.
XIII
Should more
such findings emerge, then a more concerted effort to prioritize sleep as a
therapeutic aid in patients who have suffered brain damage may be warranted, or
even the implementation of sleep-stimulation methods like those described
earlier. There is much that sleep can do that we in medicine currently cannot. So
long as the scientific evidence justifies it, we should make use of the powerful
health tool that sleep represents in making our patients well.
SLEEP FOR CREATIVITY
A final benefit of sleep for memory is arguably the most remarkable of all:
creativity. Sleep provides a nighttime theater in which your brain tests out and
builds connections between vast stores of information. This task is accomplished
using a bizarre algorithm that is biased toward seeking out the most distant,
nonobvious associations, rather like a backward Google search. In ways your
waking brain would never attempt, the sleeping brain fuses together disparate
sets of knowledge that foster impressive problem-solving abilities. If you ponder
the type of conscious experience such outlandish memory blending would
produce, you may not be surprised to learn that it happens during the dreaming
state—REM sleep. We will fully explore all of the advantages of REM sleep in the
later chapter on dreaming. For now, I will simply tell you that such informational
alchemy conjured by REM-sleep dreaming has led to some of the greatest feats of
transformative thinking in the history of the human race.
CHAPTER 7
Too Extreme for the Guinness Book of World Records
Sleep Deprivation and the Brain
Struck by the weight of damning scientific evidence, the Guinness Book of World
Records has stopped recognizing attempts to break the sleep deprivation world
record. Recall that Guinness deems it acceptable for a man (Felix Baumgartner) to
ascend 128,000 feet into the outer reaches of our atmosphere in a hot-air balloon
wearing a spacesuit, open the door of his capsule, stand atop a ladder suspended
above the planet, and then free-fall back down to Earth at a top speed of 843 mph
(1,358 kmh), passing through the sound barrier while creating a sonic boom with
just his body. But the risks associated with sleep deprivation are considered to be
far, far higher. Unacceptably high, in fact, based on the evidence.
What is that compelling evidence? In the following two chapters, we will learn
precisely why and how sleep loss inflicts such devastating effects on the brain,
linking it to numerous neurological and psychiatric conditions (e.g., Alzheimer’s
disease, anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, suicide, stroke, and chronic pain),
and on every physiological system of the body, further contributing to countless
disorders and disease (e.g., cancer, diabetes, heart attacks, infertility, weight gain,
obesity, and immune deficiency). No facet of the human body is spared the
crippling, noxious harm of sleep loss. We are, as you will see, socially,
organizationally,
economically,
physically,
behaviorally,
nutritionally,
linguistically, cognitively, and emotionally dependent upon sleep.
This chapter deals with the dire and sometimes deadly consequences of
inadequate sleep on the brain. The chapter that follows will recount the diverse—
though equally ruinous and similarly fatal—effects of short sleep on the body.
PAY ATTENTION
There are many ways in which a lack of sufficient sleep will kill you. Some take
time; others are far more immediate. One brain function that buckles under even
the smallest dose of sleep deprivation is concentration. The deadly societal
consequences of these concentration failures play out most obviously and fatally
in the form of drowsy driving. Every hour, someone dies in a traffic accident in the
US due to a fatigue-related error.
There are two main culprits of drowsy-driving accidents. The first is people
completely falling asleep at the wheel. This happens infrequently, however, and
usually requires an individual to be acutely sleep-deprived (having gone without
shut-eye for twenty-plus hours). The second, more common cause is a
momentary lapse in concentration, called a microsleep. These last for just a few
seconds, during which time the eyelid will either partially or fully close. They are
usually suffered by individuals who are chronically sleep restricted, defined as
getting less than seven hours of sleep a night on a routine basis.
During a microsleep, your brain becomes blind to the outside world for a brief
moment—and not just the visual domain, but in all channels of perception. Most
of the time you have no awareness of the event. More problematic is that your
decisive control of motor actions, such as those necessary for operating a steering
wheel or a brake pedal, will momentarily cease. As a result, you don’t need to fall
asleep for ten to fifteen seconds to die while driving. Two seconds will do it. A
two-second microsleep at 30 mph with a modest angle of drift can result in your
vehicle transitioning entirely from one lane to the next. This includes into
oncoming traffic. Should this happen at 60 mph, it may be the last microsleep you
ever have.
David Dinges at the University of Pennsylvania, a titan in the field of sleep
research and personal hero of mine, has done more than any scientist in history
to answer the following fundamental question: What is the recycle rate of a
human being? That is, how long can a human go without sleep before their
performance is objectively impaired? How much sleep can a human lose each
night, and over how many nights, before critical processes of the brain fail? Is that
individual even aware of how impaired they are when sleep-deprived? How many
nights of recovery sleep does it take to restore the stable performance of a human
after sleep loss?
Dinges’s research employs a disarmingly simple attention test to measure
concentration. You must press a button in response to a light that appears on a
button box or computer screen within a set period of time. Your response, and the
reaction time of that response, are both measured. Thereafter, another light
comes on, and you do the same thing. The lights appear in an unpredictable
manner, sometimes in quick succession, other times randomly separated by a
pause lasting several seconds.
Sounds easy, right? Try doing it for ten minutes straight, every day, for fourteen
days. That’s what Dinges and his research team did to a large number of subjects
who were monitored under strict laboratory conditions. All of the subjects
started off by getting a full eight-hour sleep opportunity the night before the test,
allowing them to be assessed when fully rested. Then, the participants were
divided into four different experimental groups. Rather like a drug study, each
group was given a different “dose” of sleep deprivation. One group was kept up for
seventy-two hours straight, going without sleep for three consecutive nights. The
second group was allowed four hours of sleep each night. The third group was
given six hours of sleep each night. The lucky fourth group was allowed to keep
sleeping eight hours each night.
There were three key findings. First, although sleep deprivation of all these
varied amounts caused a slowing in reaction time, there was something more
telling: participants would, for brief moments, stop responding altogether.
Slowness was not the most sensitive signature of sleepiness, entirely missed
responses were. Dinges was capturing lapses, otherwise known as microsleeps:
the real-life equivalent of which would be failing to react to a child who runs out in
front of your car when chasing a ball.
When describing the findings, Dinges will often have you think of the repeating
beep from a heart monitor in a hospital: beep, beep, beep. Now picture the
dramatic sound effect you hear in emergency room television dramas when a
patient starts to slip away as doctors frantically try to save their life. At first, the
heartbeats are constant—beep, beep, beep—as are your responses on the visual
attention task when you are well rested: stable, regular. Switch to your
performance when sleep-deprived, and it is the aural equivalent of the patient in
the hospital going into cardiac arrest: beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Your
performance has flatlined. No conscious response, no motor response. A
microsleep. And then the heartbeat comes back, as will your performance—beep,
beep, beep—but only for a short while. Soon, you have another arrest: beep, beep,
beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. More microsleeps.
Comparing the number of lapses, or microsleeps, day after day across the four
different experimental groups gave Dinges a second key finding. Those individuals
who slept eight hours every night maintained a stable, near-perfect performance
across the two weeks. Those in the three-night total sleep deprivation group
suffered catastrophic impairment, which was no real surprise. After the first night
of no sleep at all, their lapses in concentration (missed responses) increased by
over 400 percent. The surprise was that these impairments continued to escalate
at the same ballistic rate after a second and third night of total sleep deprivation,
as if they would continue to escalate in severity if more nights of sleep were lost,
showing no signs of flattening out.
But it was the two partial sleep deprivation groups that brought the most
concerning message of all. After four hours of sleep for six nights, participants’
performance was just as bad as those who had not slept for twenty-four hours
straight—that is, a 400 percent increase in the number of microsleeps. By day 11
on this diet of four hours of sleep a night, participants’ performance had degraded
even further, matching that of someone who had pulled two back-to-back all-
nighters, going without sleep for forty-eight hours.
Most worrying from a societal perspective were the individuals in the group
who obtained six hours of sleep a night—something that may sound familiar to
many of you. Ten days of six hours of sleep a night was all it took to become as
impaired in performance as going without sleep for twenty-four hours straight.
And like the total sleep deprivation group, the accruing performance impairment
in the four-hour and six-hour sleep groups showed no signs of leveling out. All
signs suggested that if the experiment had continued, the performance
deterioration would continue to build up over weeks or months.
Another research study, this one led by Dr. Gregory Belenky at Walter Reed
Army Institute of Research, published almost identical results around the same
time. They also tested four groups of participants, but they were given nine hours,
seven hours, five hours, and three hours of sleep across seven days.
YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW SLEEP-DEPRIVED YOU ARE WHEN YOU
ARE SLEEP-DEPRIVED
The third key finding, common to both of these studies, is the one I personally
think is the most harmful of all. When participants were asked about their
subjective sense of how impaired they were, they consistently underestimated
their degree of performance disability. It was a miserable predictor of how bad
their performance actually, objectively was. It is the equivalent of someone at a
bar who has had far too many drinks picking up his car keys and confidently
telling you, “I’m fine to drive home.”
Similarly problematic is baseline resetting. With chronic sleep restriction over
months or years, an individual will actually acclimate to their impaired
performance, lower alertness, and reduced energy levels. That low-level
exhaustion becomes their accepted norm, or baseline. Individuals fail to
recognize how their perennial state of sleep deficiency has come to compromise
their mental aptitude and physical vitality, including the slow accumulation of ill
health. A link between the former and latter is rarely made in their mind. Based
on epidemiological studies of average sleep time, millions of individuals
unwittingly spend years of their life in a sub-optimal state of psychological and
physiological functioning, never maximizing their potential of mind or body due
to their blind persistence in sleeping too little. Sixty years of scientific research
prevent me from accepting anyone who tells me that he or she can “get by on just
four or five hours of sleep a night just fine.”
Returning to Dinges’s study results, you may have predicted that optimal
performance would return to all of the participants after a good long night of
recovery sleep, similar to many people’s notion of “sleeping it off” on the
weekends to pay off their weeknight sleep debt. However, even after three nights
of ad lib recovery sleep, performance did not return to that observed at the
original baseline assessment when those same individuals had been getting a full
eight hours of sleep regularly. Nor did any group recover all the sleep hours they
had lost in the days prior. As we have already learned, the brain is incapable of
that.
In a disturbing later study, researchers in Australia took two groups of healthy
adults, one of whom they got drunk to the legal driving limit (.08 percent blood
alcohol), the other of whom they sleep-deprived for a single night. Both groups
performed the concentration test to assess attention performance, specifically
the number of lapses. After being awake for nineteen hours, people who were
sleep-deprived were as cognitively impaired as those who were legally drunk. Said
another way, if you wake up at seven a.m. and remain awake throughout the day,
then go out socializing with friends until late that evening, yet drink no alcohol
whatsoever, by the time you are driving home at two a.m. you are as cognitively
impaired in your ability to attend to the road and what is around you as a legally
drunk driver. In fact, participants in the above study started their nosedive in
performance after just fifteen hours of being awake (ten p.m. in the above
scenario).
Car crashes rank among the leading causes of death in most first-world
nations. In 2016, the AAA Foundation in Washington, DC, released the results of
an extensive study of over 7,000 drivers in the US, tracked in detail over a two-year
period.
I
The key finding, shown in figure 12, reveals just how catastrophic drowsy
driving is when it comes to car crashes. Operating on less than five hours of sleep,
your risk of a car crash increases threefold. Get behind the wheel of a car when
having slept just four hours or less the night before and you are 11.5 times more
likely to be involved in a car accident. Note how the relationship between
decreasing hours of sleep and increasing mortality risk of an accident is not
linear, but instead exponentially mushrooms. Each hour of sleep lost vastly
amplifies that crash likelihood, rather than incrementally nudging it up.
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