“MasterCard®! Visa©!” – Twelve Monkeys
My brother-in-law played tuba in high school. He was really into heavy metal.
The Mrs. spent a few days in the hospital at the start of the year. I was particularly pleased that she waited until January 1 so that the deductible for the year was met, and I will be particularly cross if she has to go back next year.
I mean, she should have some compassion. The deductible is a lot.
Several good things and a mystery came out of the hospital stay. The mystery is why she was there in the first place. I mean that. The symptoms clearly required hospitalization, and the symptoms typically mean that some of her organs would be permanently damaged.
Nope. After being there, the organs that should have been damaged (her philtrum and her uvula) were just fine. The doctor, who seems quite competent, says that that means that her philtrumitis was something quite different, and wants to catch her right at the onset this year if it happens again.
The whole “stiff upper lip” thing may be why Bill Clinton hates Great Britain.
It will happen again, because it has already happened twice. I’m just hoping it happens before a new deductible year, but I don’t know if she cares enough so that we can save the $1,500 deductible.
The good news was that they were measuring her the oxygen content in her blood, which the doctors and nurses seemed to thing was important for some reason. “Can’t walk without passing out,” they said. Heck, Pa Wilder told me to just walk stuff like that off, or rub some dirt on it.
Anyway, I have faith we’ll get her philtrum sorted out in time. But during the time, it was also determined that The Mrs. has sleep apnea.
Sleep apnea is where, when a person is sleeping, that they stop breathing. This is, according to experts, not good, because unlike me, The Mrs. is unable to absorb enough oxygen through her skin to live. Such weakness!
One sure sign of sleep apnea (from my experience) is loud snoring. In the case of The Mrs., seismic monitors were set off in every town in the United States named “Springfield” when she slept.
Don’t give off Bundy vibes. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
But “slept” is really not a great term for what The Mrs. was doing: the doctor said that prior to the sleep study she was having dozens of incidents where she stopped breathing – per hour. That tends to make whatever sleep she was getting be interrupted every few minutes.
Except that she never knew it was happening.
When they kicked her out of the hospital, they gave her oxygen. Now, the oxygen helped her, but she still stopped breathing. Finally, a sleep study was scheduled. Because Modern Mayberry is two hours from Mt. Pilot, we took her there for the study on a Friday.
The next day she was bouncy and in the best mood I’d seen in years. The CPAP (Continuous Proton Angstrom Predictor) that they had hooked her up had allowed her to sleep, deeply, for the first time in five years (my guess). She felt great for days afterward.
I bought The Mrs. a huge diamond ring. She asked why I didn’t buy her a car instead, but I told her they don’t make fake cars.
After feeling awful for so long that she didn’t know she felt awful, feeling great was like a drug. In fact, she was counting the days from when she had the sleep study to when the doctor would provide a prescription for her to get a CPAP (Cobalt Piston Analog Platypus).
Finally, the day arrived. We drove an hour and a half (the other direction from Mt. Pilot) and found in a little strip mall where the people were ready to give The Mrs. the coveted CPAP (Corndog Popcorn Apple Plate). We got home, and The Mrs. plugged it in, popped on her mask and went to bed.
And The Mrs. slept.
And got the best night of sleep at home she’d had “as an adult.” I think The Mrs. was exaggerating, but she loved her new CPAP (Capering Party Animal Platform).
Now’s the time to admit that, even though I do have several superpowers, I have a CPAP (Constitutionally Protected Ammo Pouch) as well. One day over seven years ago (note that this is beyond the statute of limitations) The Mrs. said I stopped breathing. I read about it, and, um, a day later I had “acquired” a CPAP (Criminally Procured Automated Prosthesis) by finding the equivalent of that liquor store that sold booze to six-year-olds.
I imagine he can’t even walk when he’s sober.
Sleep study? Doctor visit? Insurance? Why? I have a Visa®.
Today, as The Mrs.’ doctor reviewed the data from her CPAP (Crucially Precious Artificial Planet) I casually mentioned that my CPAP (Chronologically Primeval Ancient Apparatus) was seven years old, and I might need a new one. Gradually my unorthodox procurement strategy came to light.
“Well, John Wilder, you’ll need a sleep study, or your insurance won’t pay for a new one.”
“I have a Visa®.”
“Oh, cool. I’ll write you a prescription whenever you need a new one.”
See? The Wilder Way wins again.
As someone with a very small amount of medical education, I must say I was unaware the philtrum is an organ. Obviously, my education is deficient. Kudos on your, um, creative interpretations of CPAP. Cats Prefer Awake Prey.
CPAP saved my life. Got decent sleep for years after getting one. Then I lost my housing and spent a month in a hotel. Too much trouble to set up the CPAP. Slept fine. Medicine is a mystery.
Tell the Mrs. we’re all glad she’s breathing.
If your insurance does the “rent to own” crap or doesn’t fully cover the inflated price from a brick and mortar med supplies shop, there are some great online resources. Easy enough to google and find so I’m not gonna make a pitch for them. They can even do an at home sleep study for you.
Once she knows what she likes for mask type, features, and her settings it’s easy to skip the store.
I’ve been using cpap (creative pseudo acronym placement) for years, remember 2 is one and one is none. I have 3 for now – home, travel, and emergency replacement.
Since you never had a study, you should look at an auto titrating unit that will automatically set your pressure.
Reading your post put a smile on my face as I recalled how good it felt when they put the cpap (can’t put a priceongoodsleep) the first time. When they told me I can go home, I told him I didn’t want to. I just wanted to stay there and sleep.
Glad your wife got the issue resolved. Years ago doc wanted me to do an expensive sleep study, but as I told him, I cannot sleep in a strange environment like that and the results would be meaningless (if I even got to sleep at all). Later found a doc who was able to provide same diagnosis with a pulse oximeter (that was back before they were so common). He sent me home with a wrist strap pulse ox that would record readings continuously for a few nights, and confirmed I had an issue.
Instead of CPAP, I opted to use Buteyko method which involves taping the mouth closed at night and sleeping more on my side. This stopped my snoring/apnea and had the added benefit of rebalancing CO2 in the body (which reduced a lot of congestion/asthma issues I was having as well). The only problem is sometimes the tape comes loose and is stuck in my hair. Buteyko is inexpensive and widely used in other parts of the world for asthma treatment but you don’t hear about it in the US because medical community doesn’t make money on it.
Good sleep is a blessing and I am glad the Mrs. has finally found it. I, however, have not.
My dad had very severe snoring and eventually a CPAP, and I myself have recently started the halting breath and (so far gentle, says my wife) snoring just as I observed in him. I wake myself up when either starts.
These recent and infrequent disruptions are so far way down the scale of my sleep issues. I was an uncontrolled diabetic for many years when my pre-diabetes went into full blown Type 2 and I just shrugged it off. (Bad move, don’t do that or your eye doctor will eventually tell you your retinas are starting to deteriorate.) I had the classic continuous need to urinate and so was getting up every night our times or more having to go to the bathroom. When I finally started daily insulin shots I was conditioned to be a yo-yo between the bed and bathroom even though that was no longer necessary and often could not go back to sleep. I would routinely started my day between 3 or 4 or 5 AM.
To combat this, my doctor currently has me on a minimal dosage of trazodone, an (SARI, not SSRI) antidepressant (medically considered “quarter strength prozac”) that has a common side effect of severe drowsiness. Traz, er, true that. Now I routinely wake up at 7AM with usually no overnight bathroom trips, sometimes only one. But I am very foggy and groggy headed when I do wake up and that takes up to an hour to overcome. This is a not unpleasant trade-off, but I am convinced that it is contributing to an overall drop in my cognitive abilities, most notable by a gentle but real decline in my average online chess rating score. (And perhaps more incoherent postings that need to be taken with more grains of salt here three times per week? 🙂 )
And then there’s my princess-and-the-pea sensitivity. I am a side sleeper and as such I routinely dig a same-body-weight-over-smaller-area trench in any mattress I buy, which inevitably leads to lower back pain. My current mattress is starting to exhibit this and is less than a year old. So I am currently waking up not only groggy but with an unhappy back as well. Sigh.
The only joy I get from sleeping is from my incredibly vivid and intricate dreams from taking melatonin, a natural hormone available over-the-counter, nightly . That stuff is incredible.
ZMA (Zinc-Magnesium Aspartate plus B6) is my go-to dreamweaver. I take it for workout recovery, but it has the sweet side effect of vivid, technicolor, hi-def dreams. Epic dramas play out nightly for my benefit, with casts of thousands and the most elaborate movie sets I’ve ever seen. Must be crazy-expensive to stage those shows.
I watched a commercial advertising some method that removes the need of a CPAP machine. It’s not real detailed, but I think it might involve an implant. That made me wonder if it gives a small electrical shock to “wake up” the body and make it breathe again. If so, it’s like my dog’s collar, which keeps him from wondering away without my consent. I like that. If I ever have problems, I can save money by wearing a dog collar, and instructing my wife to give me a little jolt to start my breathing. The only problem will be finding a way to keep her from turning it way up when she’s mad. I think maybe some duct tape will work.