What it’s like to sleep in a hyperbaric chamber like Michael Jackson

Growing up, I remember reading magazine and newspaper articles about how Michael Jackson had a pet chimp called Bubbles and a boa constrictor whose name I never bothered to commit to memory because even as an impressionable child, I knew that having a pet that had a habit of crushing its food to death was as dumb as dumb gets. Even if you were rich and famous. 
But the one story that stuck with me was the rumour that MJ slept in a hyperbaric tank, apparently, so he could stay young for as long as possible. Everyone – and by everyone, I mean my mother – said if ever there was evidence that he was a complete nut job, the tank was it.
Well, what do you know? It looks like all the haters have finally caught up to the science. Because it suddenly seems like everywhere you turn, someone is offering hyperbaric oxygen therapy in a fancy, hi-tech pod. 
According to the Mayo Clinic website – surely every hypochondriac’s emotional and mental lifeline – the process basically involves breathing pure oxygen in a pressurised environment to treat chronic wounds, burns, and other medical conditions. The Cleveland Clinic goes on to explain that room air contains 21 per cent oxygen, while hyperbaric oxygen therapy pumps up the percentage to 100 per cent to help lungs gather more oxygen and the immune system fight bacteria. 
Commercial spas, meanwhile, claim regular sessions help improve sleep, reduce inflammation, increase energy, alertness and stamina, and reverse aging. Hence, Michael Jacson’s obsession. 
Now, I don’t know about you, but it’s not often that I get to live the life of the rich and famous. So when I was staying at the Upper House in Hong Kong a few weeks ago and heard that their wellness partner, 10X Longevity offered full-on hyperbaric oxygen therapy as part of its rejuvenative programme, I put my hand up for a session. 
The first thing to note is that the therapy is not for claustrophobes, because you’re going to be in a small, tight, enclosed space for an hour. And if just reading that description is triggering, then steer clear and do 10x’s cold plunge instead. 
There are two versions on the market. In Singapore, REKOOP and Como Shambhala feature an upright, blue-lit seated pod with a glass door, the experience somewhat akin to being in an exploding spaceship’s escape pod for one. According to Jeremy, the nice master personal trainer at Como who showed me around a few days after I returned from Hong Kong, this version is better if you’re claustrophobic.
The 10x Longevity offers the long, horizontal tube version that I climbed into and then lay down on a comfy cloud of linen, pillows and quilt. I was asked to pick how much I wanted to pressurise your chamber – two or three times higher than normal air pressure – put on a dinky oxygen mask, and then the therapist slid shut the glass door. 
“If you need me, just press the intercom button!” she said encouragingly, as the pressure began to rise. I had to swallow several times to pop my ears, and that was pretty much it.
An hour sounds like a long time, but it’s really not. Apparently, some people catch up on their emails, play Candy Crush, or meditate to Taylor Swift. Me, I closed my eyes and thought about Michael Jackson. Maybe, I thought, absorbing all this pure oxygen was how he was able to write his music and make a gazillion dollars. But where, I wondered, would I fit this huge metal pod in my apartment? Perhaps if I got rid of my Ikea bed, I could…
I fell asleep and didn’t wake up till the therapist’s miked voice piped in to say she was about to start depressurising the pod. When I finally emerged into the subdued light of the room, I was a little dopey from the long nap. A perfect state of being, apparently, to now be shepherded to the next stop – an infra-red sauna followed by a cold plunge in icy 8 degree Celsius water. With my blood now super-oxygenated, I would sweat out toxins in the sauna, and the extreme cold would encourage mitochondrial stimulation.
“Isn’t that the test for being a Jedi?” I asked and laughed at my own nerdy, insider joke as I dropped into the cold tub and nearly passed out from what felt like a thousand sharp knives plunging into my body.
“How was it?” the therapist asked when I finally emerged from the treatment room. 
“Oddly refreshed,” I said after a quick internal body scan. The surface of my skin tingled and crackled, as if someone had just sprinkled fizzy Pop Rocks all over me.
And even now, weeks later, I still remember the unusual sensation of sleeping within the hyperbaric oxygen tank. Of course, I was in it just the once, and most programmes prescribe multiple sessions under appropriate medical supervision. Still, that one hour was enough to intrigue and I couldn’t help but wonder just how my body would respond if I slept like Michael Jackson every night for the rest of my life. What masterpieces of journalism would I produce?
A 60-minute session at 10x Longevity costs HKD$1,400 (or about S$240). At Como Shambhala, it’s S$180, and at REKOOP, S$170. In other words, I guess I’ll never know. 
Always check with your doctor before you sign up for any form of treatment. This personal experience should not be substituted for advice from your own healthcare professional.