Umbilical Cords(part 3)
I settle into my routine. I have a doctor’s appointment in April and figure I’ll learn all about the results of the exciting 2 nights of studies at that time. I was surprised when I answered the phone and a very pleasant voice introduced himself and said “Dr Meyer called and has ordered your CPAP (Sleep Machine) and I’d like to set up an appointment and bring it over to you.”
I, of course, want to know who exactly this guy is and what on earth he is talking about. You see I had talked to people and this wasn’t the way it had worked for them. He explained that my doctor, after the results of the 2 sleep studies, had determined that I needed to be treated for sleep apnea and had prescribed CPAP equipment for me to use. Well, I was a bit obstinate and argued with him, for some reason, and gave him a bad time. I certainly wasn’t ready to get hooked up to anything like what I had experienced at the hospital sleep lab. Finally, I caved and set up a time for him to bring the damnable equipment over to the house. I might as well get started with this therapy. After all, it didn’t look like it was going to be a matter of choice.
So a couple afternoons later, over came Jason, or My Connection if you will, with my Sleep Machine. He sat down with me at the dining room table and explained the different components of the equipment and how they worked. What I could do and what I could NOT do. It came with a warm humidifier, so that bridge was crossed. And the mask didn’t look anything like the horrific stuff I’d been hooked up to in the hospital, however, it is hooked into the machine (computerized device programed to MY specific needs) by a 6 ft hose. Nothing like going to be every night with an umbilical cord attached to your nose.
He explained how the mask he had brought worked and how easy it was to use. He said it would take time to adjust and not to expect to use the machine more than a couple hours the first night and then to slowly add more time as I learned to tolerate it. He actually tried to make me think I would come to love having hose stuck up my nose exhausting warn damp air into my nasal cavity all night long. Yeah, he was not right about that. Although I did tolerate it for about 2 hours the first night.
The second night, I was determined to make it work. After all, I had to, didn’t I? So I managed to keep it on most of the night. However, the mask did not allow me to sleep except in one position. This left me twisted and cranky and sore, but I had to admit that I actually felt less tired than I usually did in the morning. So, yeah, I conceded it would probably work, but I also decided there must be something about this whole bizness that I was missing. Well, when all else fails read the manual. I pulled out the books that had come with the equipment and began reading. I redid things, tried again, still couldn’t tolerate the machine. I just was giving up and could find no other way to sleep except on one side or flat out on my back. By now my back is killing me and I’m thinking the treatment is worse than the problem.
By weekend, I have checked into my manufacturer’s website and thankfully found it had a bulletin board. I began reading the posts and it was like joining a support group. All kinds of advice and helpful hints. The first thing I learned was that I needed to try another mask. So, Monday I called My Connection and he came over the next day with a new mask. It was a lot different than the one he had started me out with. It was more like the one in the hospital, in that the device was inserted right up my nose. The tubing went behind my ears and I found I could roll back and forth with no restrictions. I slept for 4 hours that first night with the new mask. I actually climbed out of bed the next day without feeling like I just needed to go someplace quiet for a few weeks and sleep nonstop around the clock.
The second night with the new mask, I began to play around a bit and get inventive. I actually found a way to clip the tubing pony tail style behind my head, so that it was completely out of my way. I found this position actually worked better with the equipment then the prescribed way of attaching it to the head. I slept even better that night, but woke up with a booming headache and my throat and nose so dry I just wanted to drink 3 cans of soda to feel some kind of tingle in my throat again.
But I was… finally… feeling like this whole thing was going to be OK... maybe? What could be more comforting than going to be each night with an umbilical cord attached to a soft humming, light giving machine? What?
Friday, March 25, 2005
Visiting the Dark Side
It was such a relief to have the worst of this process behind me. Ha! Little did I know that the worst was yet to come.
Early into the next week the Scheduler from the Sleep Lab called to set me up with my second sleep study. “What? Second study? Why?”
I had passed the first study with flying colors and been diagnosed with sleep apnea. The doctor had ordered the second study to determine proper treatment. Why had I thought a second study would be given only if I didn’t “pass” the first study?
So a week later, I bundled myself off to the hospital for another night’s stay. Heck, it hadn’t been so bad, a few wires, but I had slept. This time I was an old hand at the routine, I only brought one pillow and arrived ready for bed, already in my jammies. What was the point of wearing street clothes? It’s not like I wasn’t going to sleep in my sweats anyway. They had obviously set the thermostat on “arctic cold” and so I was wrapped up in layers with my warmest hoodie to keep me cozy this time. So clever me.
I had the same attendant and we went through the Hook up bizness like the old pros that we were. She asked if I breathed through my mouth when I slept. Well, usually through my nose, but sometimes I did sleep with my mouth open. Who doesn’t, for cryin out loud? Then came the introduction of the “sleep machine” which looked like a clear plastic, full face gas mask with a vacuum cleaner hose stuck out one end of it. She actually planned to stick this device on my head so they could “gauge” how I breathed. Yeah, that mask stayed in place about 15 seconds before I was clawing it off, yelling “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Is that gauged enough?”
”OK” she said. “We’ll have to try another mask.”
Whatever!!! This time she came back with one that looked a little friendlier and only covered my nose. She snapped it in place, warned me that I must keep my mouth closed at all times. She then asked if I would need a “strap” to wrap about my head to assure that I would keep my mouth closed and only breathe through my nose. I told her it was totally unnecessary. Right! Come on. You’d have said the same thing. She made sure she had me properly connected to all her dials and gadgets. Turned off the lights and happily tripped down the hall to monitor the computer hooked up to me and catch a little late night TV. I did my best to find a way to lie down but found myself gasping for air frequently. This required my opening my mouth, naturally. After about 15 minutes of trying to breathe into the mask only, I realized it was a no go. I pulled the mask off my face and little Miss Suzie Sunshine was back through the door in a flash. “Sorry, I feel like I’m being suffocated. I just can’t do this.”
“OK” she said, “well let me call my supervisor and I’ll be right back.”
Yeah, Honey you just do that. I was wondering if perhaps this would be the time I was going to fail the test when back she comes with yet another mask. Cripes. How many of these things do these people have anyway? This one is a small tube device with a fitting that (believe it or not) fits right up my nose. Wheeeeeeee! But it works. I finally am able to tolerate having air forced into my nasal cavity at the force of hurricane gale. Of course, it’s only a few minutes before I’m yelling “Uncle” again. My nose is so dried out I can’t stand it.
Suzie Sunshine now adds a humidifier to my equipment. I finally manage to doze off and sleep for about an hour. I awake in pain. My nose feels like it’s on fire. I know I’ll never be able to tolerate this “treatment”! I’d rather be sleep deprived the rest of my life. Whatever. I’m going to take a break and head for the bathroom. After my pit stop, Suzie is back to get me started over again. I ask if there is something I can have to relieve the dryness in my nose and explain that it is so dry it actually hurts.
This time she didn’t have to go call her supervisor. She said the next step was to try a “warm humidifier” which used to replace the cool humidifier. I am soon hooked back up. There is some problem getting the hoses stuck up my nose to stay in place which she solves with a roll of tape. She simply tapes the non-compliant device down to my face (you can bet by now, I'm realy CUTE). I soon catch the rhythm (I have since learned that the computer in the machine actually matches your breathing rhythm, instead of you trying to match its) and in utter amazement find myself waking up a couple hours later afraid to move. I do not want to dislodge anything, so decide to just tough it out until morning. I turn over and finally doze a bit and then Suzie is there to tell me it’s morning and time to go home.
I pull my coat on and head out the ER exit. Thankfully, there is no snow, my windows are NOT iced over and my doors aren’t frozen shut. I take a deep breath, climb into my car and head home. Nothing had been said about ever having to come back for a 3rd study. The worst was definitely behind me now.
Early into the next week the Scheduler from the Sleep Lab called to set me up with my second sleep study. “What? Second study? Why?”
I had passed the first study with flying colors and been diagnosed with sleep apnea. The doctor had ordered the second study to determine proper treatment. Why had I thought a second study would be given only if I didn’t “pass” the first study?
So a week later, I bundled myself off to the hospital for another night’s stay. Heck, it hadn’t been so bad, a few wires, but I had slept. This time I was an old hand at the routine, I only brought one pillow and arrived ready for bed, already in my jammies. What was the point of wearing street clothes? It’s not like I wasn’t going to sleep in my sweats anyway. They had obviously set the thermostat on “arctic cold” and so I was wrapped up in layers with my warmest hoodie to keep me cozy this time. So clever me.
I had the same attendant and we went through the Hook up bizness like the old pros that we were. She asked if I breathed through my mouth when I slept. Well, usually through my nose, but sometimes I did sleep with my mouth open. Who doesn’t, for cryin out loud? Then came the introduction of the “sleep machine” which looked like a clear plastic, full face gas mask with a vacuum cleaner hose stuck out one end of it. She actually planned to stick this device on my head so they could “gauge” how I breathed. Yeah, that mask stayed in place about 15 seconds before I was clawing it off, yelling “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Is that gauged enough?”
”OK” she said. “We’ll have to try another mask.”
Whatever!!! This time she came back with one that looked a little friendlier and only covered my nose. She snapped it in place, warned me that I must keep my mouth closed at all times. She then asked if I would need a “strap” to wrap about my head to assure that I would keep my mouth closed and only breathe through my nose. I told her it was totally unnecessary. Right! Come on. You’d have said the same thing. She made sure she had me properly connected to all her dials and gadgets. Turned off the lights and happily tripped down the hall to monitor the computer hooked up to me and catch a little late night TV. I did my best to find a way to lie down but found myself gasping for air frequently. This required my opening my mouth, naturally. After about 15 minutes of trying to breathe into the mask only, I realized it was a no go. I pulled the mask off my face and little Miss Suzie Sunshine was back through the door in a flash. “Sorry, I feel like I’m being suffocated. I just can’t do this.”
“OK” she said, “well let me call my supervisor and I’ll be right back.”
Yeah, Honey you just do that. I was wondering if perhaps this would be the time I was going to fail the test when back she comes with yet another mask. Cripes. How many of these things do these people have anyway? This one is a small tube device with a fitting that (believe it or not) fits right up my nose. Wheeeeeeee! But it works. I finally am able to tolerate having air forced into my nasal cavity at the force of hurricane gale. Of course, it’s only a few minutes before I’m yelling “Uncle” again. My nose is so dried out I can’t stand it.
Suzie Sunshine now adds a humidifier to my equipment. I finally manage to doze off and sleep for about an hour. I awake in pain. My nose feels like it’s on fire. I know I’ll never be able to tolerate this “treatment”! I’d rather be sleep deprived the rest of my life. Whatever. I’m going to take a break and head for the bathroom. After my pit stop, Suzie is back to get me started over again. I ask if there is something I can have to relieve the dryness in my nose and explain that it is so dry it actually hurts.
This time she didn’t have to go call her supervisor. She said the next step was to try a “warm humidifier” which used to replace the cool humidifier. I am soon hooked back up. There is some problem getting the hoses stuck up my nose to stay in place which she solves with a roll of tape. She simply tapes the non-compliant device down to my face (you can bet by now, I'm realy CUTE). I soon catch the rhythm (I have since learned that the computer in the machine actually matches your breathing rhythm, instead of you trying to match its) and in utter amazement find myself waking up a couple hours later afraid to move. I do not want to dislodge anything, so decide to just tough it out until morning. I turn over and finally doze a bit and then Suzie is there to tell me it’s morning and time to go home.
I pull my coat on and head out the ER exit. Thankfully, there is no snow, my windows are NOT iced over and my doors aren’t frozen shut. I take a deep breath, climb into my car and head home. Nothing had been said about ever having to come back for a 3rd study. The worst was definitely behind me now.
On Becoming Ms. Vader
A few weeks ago (or was it months) I mentioned my doctor’s suspicion that I had something called “sleep apnea”. Well, what fun! So anyway, I thought it was time to get back here and update you with all the exciting adventures I and Darth Vader have been having since then.
My adventure began with an overnight stay for a “sleep study” at a nearby hospital. They checked me in through the ER and a young woman came and escorted me (they instructed me to bring my own pillows, pajamas, and a change of clothes) and my huge bag of paraphernalia to the Sleep Lab which was located in a windowless tomb of a place just off the rehabilitation wing in the basement. The room was OK… it had a large double bed to delude you into thinking they wanted you to get a good night’s rest. Whatever!
I was told to do my usual night routine (how? there’s no TV in here. There’s a recliner, so I could conceivably fall asleep in the recliner while pretending to watch TV then get up and stumble off to bed, but somehow it just wasn’t the same), so I happily pretend to comply. After washing up, getting into my jammies, and such the young lab worker returned to hook me to about 5,000 wires connected to a computer in the closet next to the bed. I have heart monitors to check if I’m still alive, wires to my face, legs, eyebrows, head, nose, mouth, glued to my hair, on the end of my finger to see if I’m getting enough oxygen, then, in that way too cheerful voice, she says, “OK, I’ll just turn off the lights while you get some sleep.” You bet your life, sweetie pie, I’m all about going to sleep now. I gave myself a good talking to curled up with all those wires protruding out of me, and quietly passed out. This was not something I ever wanted to have to experience twice in my lifetime.
The night ended with only a couple interruptions to take a walk to the bathroom. In the morning, my torturer came to disconnect me, but I rather figured I needed to head for the bathroom first. For the first time I saw my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I nearly passed out laughing at the weird woman staring back at me. Wires everywhere with all different colored endings on them. My hair sticking up every which way it could stick and me looking like something straight out of a science fiction movie. I had everything to match the description except for the metal bowl which should have been screwed to the top of my head with a large antenna sticking out of it.
After my return from the john, the attendant proceeded to disconnect me, letting me know that all the jells and goop would easily wash off in the shower. Well, can’t wait for that. She nicely wished me well and said everything looked fine and she wouldn’t see me again unless they needed a second sleep study done. Fat chance I would let them put me through that again. I had slept quite nicely and was sure, since I had heeded my own advice, I wouldn’t have to come back again. I headed out into the still dark freezing cold, only to find my car doors frozen shut and wishing I’d put this experience off until the weather was at least tolerable. After a few attacks on the doors of the car, I finally got the one on the passenger side to open up to my urgent pleas, and managed to hurl my considerable heft into some type form that got me past the gear shift and bucket seats, so I was able to push the door open on the driver’s side. I got the motor warming, the rear window defroster started, found the ice scraper and began removing the snow and ice off the stupid car. Why on earth had I not waited until spring to have this damn test done, anyway. What was I thinking. I didn’t need to spend a night in a sleep lab. That fact alone showed that I was totally operating with an oxygen starved brain.
Well, at least step one was behind me.
My adventure began with an overnight stay for a “sleep study” at a nearby hospital. They checked me in through the ER and a young woman came and escorted me (they instructed me to bring my own pillows, pajamas, and a change of clothes) and my huge bag of paraphernalia to the Sleep Lab which was located in a windowless tomb of a place just off the rehabilitation wing in the basement. The room was OK… it had a large double bed to delude you into thinking they wanted you to get a good night’s rest. Whatever!
I was told to do my usual night routine (how? there’s no TV in here. There’s a recliner, so I could conceivably fall asleep in the recliner while pretending to watch TV then get up and stumble off to bed, but somehow it just wasn’t the same), so I happily pretend to comply. After washing up, getting into my jammies, and such the young lab worker returned to hook me to about 5,000 wires connected to a computer in the closet next to the bed. I have heart monitors to check if I’m still alive, wires to my face, legs, eyebrows, head, nose, mouth, glued to my hair, on the end of my finger to see if I’m getting enough oxygen, then, in that way too cheerful voice, she says, “OK, I’ll just turn off the lights while you get some sleep.” You bet your life, sweetie pie, I’m all about going to sleep now. I gave myself a good talking to curled up with all those wires protruding out of me, and quietly passed out. This was not something I ever wanted to have to experience twice in my lifetime.
The night ended with only a couple interruptions to take a walk to the bathroom. In the morning, my torturer came to disconnect me, but I rather figured I needed to head for the bathroom first. For the first time I saw my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I nearly passed out laughing at the weird woman staring back at me. Wires everywhere with all different colored endings on them. My hair sticking up every which way it could stick and me looking like something straight out of a science fiction movie. I had everything to match the description except for the metal bowl which should have been screwed to the top of my head with a large antenna sticking out of it.
After my return from the john, the attendant proceeded to disconnect me, letting me know that all the jells and goop would easily wash off in the shower. Well, can’t wait for that. She nicely wished me well and said everything looked fine and she wouldn’t see me again unless they needed a second sleep study done. Fat chance I would let them put me through that again. I had slept quite nicely and was sure, since I had heeded my own advice, I wouldn’t have to come back again. I headed out into the still dark freezing cold, only to find my car doors frozen shut and wishing I’d put this experience off until the weather was at least tolerable. After a few attacks on the doors of the car, I finally got the one on the passenger side to open up to my urgent pleas, and managed to hurl my considerable heft into some type form that got me past the gear shift and bucket seats, so I was able to push the door open on the driver’s side. I got the motor warming, the rear window defroster started, found the ice scraper and began removing the snow and ice off the stupid car. Why on earth had I not waited until spring to have this damn test done, anyway. What was I thinking. I didn’t need to spend a night in a sleep lab. That fact alone showed that I was totally operating with an oxygen starved brain.
Well, at least step one was behind me.
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