Can't sleep. Too wired.

I used to be really good at sleeping.

Granted, that’s not normally a marketable skill, unless you can luck into one of those jobs testing mattresses. With me, it was actually a detriment, because once I went to sleep it took strong intervention — or the passage of considerable time — to bring me back.

“Sorry,” I found myself saying a lot. “I overslept.”

In college, I once tried to stay up all night to study for a 9 a.m. exam, dozed off, and didn’t regain consciousness until five hours after the test was over.

Now, though, all that has flipflopped. First, I noticed that I was feeling more and more tired during the day, especially the afternoon. Almost everyone has that “slump” period right after lunch, though (that’s why people in Mexico take siestas) so I didn’t worry much about it.

Then I started waking up almost every night around 3 a.m., my mind racing. Sometimes, I had the feeling someone was trying to choke me (possibly my wife, because I also snored). The next day, I would fall asleep sitting at my desk, or blank out for a second while driving (never a good thing).

Eventually, all of this drove me into the waiting arms of the medical establishment, and I was referred to the Centra Health Sleep Disorders Center.

To be honest, I was a little nervous. My vision of a sleep clinic had me lying in a fetal position, attached to multiple wires, while a half-dozen technicians stared at me, waiting for me to lose consciousness. It seemed like something that would be banned by the Geneva Convention.

Thankfully, only the part about the wires was right. Greeting me when I arrived at the Forest Sleep Center — a satellite to the main center at Virginia Baptist that I chose because it was close to home — was not a battalion of people in white coats, but a lone attendant (a polysomnographer by trade) named Ralph Whitted, who had the pleasant but matter-of-fact manner of a motel desk clerk.

My room, in fact, looked like it could have belonged in a Day’s Inn or Super 8. There was a bed, a nightstand, a TV and a bathroom.

Ralph handed me some forms to fill out and then began wiring me. By the time he was done, I had electrodes attached to my scalp, forehead, chin and face, as well as my legs. That, plus the new pajamas my wife, Gail, had bought me (dark green bottoms with Guinness symbols all over them and a top shirt that said “Kiss Me, I’m Three-Fifths Irish”) made me resemble a cross between the Six Million Dollar Man and a giant leprechaun.

According to Centra polysomnographer supervisor George Morcom, sleep disorders can be a serious matter. This is the 20th year of operation for the local center, which now serves several thousand patients a year at its eight-bed facility at Virginia Baptist Hospital and the four-bed Forest satellite. Besides sleep apnea, the polysomnographers also check for sleep-related problems such as narcolepsy or impaired breathing.

Morcom has known patients who fell asleep in checkout lines and a man who couldn’t drive from Lynchburg to Appomattox without pulling over for a nap.

“It can really affect your quality of life,” he said.

Even up to the ultimate effect upon quality of life — death. Former pro football star Reggie White died from a sleep apnea-related condition a couple of years ago, and he’s not alone.

Personally, I preferred to think that line from the children’s prayer, “If I should die before I wake,” was only metaphorical.

For many patients at the Centra Sleep Center, the next step is an introduction to a C-Pap (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine that uses a steady airflow to keep the airway open during sleep.

“For some people, it’s absolutely life-changing,” Morcom said.

I crawled into the bed (which was quite comfortable, by the way) around 10, wires and all. Some of these would tell Ralph and co-worker Mark Grow whether I was actually asleep, others whether I was breathing properly, how much oxygen I was taking in, what my heart rate was, etc.

Ralph disappeared, then his voice entered the room via intercom and asked me to perform a few routine movements — breathing exercises, mostly.

“If you have to get up for any reason, push that button I showed you and I’ll come and unhook you,” he said.

Sometimes, George Morcom said, “we get people who forget where they are and try to get up with the wires still attached.”

My only problem was turning over on my side. What if I unplugged something?

I pondered that very briefly when I woke up at my normal 3 a.m. What seemed like five minutes later, I heard Ralph’s voice over the intercom.

“It’s 5:30, Mr. Laurant,” he said.

As I filled out more forms, he even brought me a continental breakfast of orange juice, coffee and a muffin.

“The glue (used to attach the wire leads) will wash out of your hair with soap and water,” he said.

I guess he went home to bed after that. Me, I tried to stay awake.