8/10/2023 0 Comments Nasa in bed for 3 months![]() This was the first time I had a good look at the sky or anything that wasn't the stark white walls of the hospital, and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. As I was wheeled through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, sunlight touched my skin for the first time in more than two months. That morning, I was strapped to a stretcher and put in the back of a van to head to Johnson Space Center for the first of four rounds of marathon testing. I remained horizontal until the following day. And I was putting some serious money in the bank-almost $18,000, when all was said and done.Īnd so I found myself at the end of the ten weeks in good sprits and feeling healthy-until the last day of the study, when they tilted me upright and asked me to stand. I was rediscovering my love of video games and kicking ass in fantasy football. In the home stretch, I forced myself to think about all that I had gained from the past 70 days. I was certain that I was one bad day away from a mental breakdown-how could I possibly just drift through ten weeks in bed? I still experienced moments of fear and anxiety. I was still shitting in a bedpan, after all. That's not to say my days were completely blithe. Conversations with the staff became shorter, more practical. I became accustomed to my isolated antisocial state. I was left alone for extended periods of time with only my thoughts and a view of foam-tile ceiling.īy the fourth week, I could feel a significant psychological shift. An MRI machine measured the growth and decay of my muscles. Even the testing became increasingly monotonous: I was often asked to lie completely still while data was collected. While the days were punctuated by regular meals, exercise, vital-sign readings, and intermittent testing, the bulk of my time was empty. The following eight weeks in bed were a drastic departure from that early period. I was truly appreciative of these opportunities afforded by my state of isolation. Sometimes, I would simply lie peacefully, reflecting on the past, planning for the future, or basking in a quiet moment. I spent an ungodly amount of time fiddling with my fantasy football teams and playing StarCraft 2. On others, I spent several hours on the phone with friends and family. Some days, I read from morning until night. I was free to do as I pleased-as long as it didn't involve leaving my bed, or eating a snack, or taking a nap. Beyond following the program protocol, I had no real responsibilities. ![]() For years, I had continually been in a rush: cramming for tests in college, staying ahead in the workplace, and fulfilling social obligations during whatever gaps I could find. When I last wrote about my experiences in the study, I was still in the honeymoon phase-there was a parade of researchers poking and prodding me, sure, but it was also one of the most relaxing times of my adult life. But it was easy to forget all that because most of the NASA bed-rest study had been, despite my expectations, kind of boring. The standing test simulated the effects on astronauts' cardiovascular systems during spacecraft reentry to Earth or Mars. After spending 70 days tilted at a negative-six-degree angle, I had lost about 20 percent of my total blood volume. It was no surprise my body acted this way, of course. It was only later that they told me that none of the NASA bed-rest subjects have lasted the full 15 minutes. As my vision started to go black, the staff saw my numbers drop on the machines and promptly returned the bed to the horizontal position. ![]() ![]() Around the eight-minute mark, my pulse dropped from 150 down to 70. I was fighting to remain standing from the start, and it only became more difficult. ![]() Blood rushed into my legs, expanding the veins that had become increasingly elastic throughout the past several months of bed rest. My skin became itchy I was covered in sweat. As soon as the bed was tilted to the vertical position, my legs felt heavier than ever before. ![]()
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