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May 20, 2005
The Worst Night of My Life
If the phrase "pain before beauty" holds true for other life goals, then I suffered some serious pain last weekend in the hopes of achieving a better night's sleep.
Sleep apnea runs in my family and in recent years I've been encouraged by several doctors to get tested for it. So about a year ago I started the long and painful process of trying to get a medical diagnosis via the Boston Medical Center's web of doctors. Never in my life have I dealt with SO many poorly run offices. But I digress.
After many lost appointments and references, I finally got a date with the Sleep Lab. And so, the story begins with a bus ride to Roxbury where I had to endure a homeless man huffing rubbing alcohol while he told me how nice my hair was. I arrived just on time (8:30pm) at the almost-deserted BMC where I had to be buzzed in by a clueless security guard who apparently had no idea where the Sleep Lab was or how to get a hold of anyone up there. Thankfully I brought the number and was pointed towards the ER where I was to get checked in.
Idiot station #2 involved a nurse who attempted to verify my name, address, and social security number while she was talking on the phone (sitting directly under a sign stating "Absolutely No Cell Phones Allowed." Since part of my job is to be aware of privacy issues, I politely indicated that the phone would have to be hung up before our conversation could continue. She then proceeded to pound away on the keyboard with 2 inch finger nails as if she were writing a novella about my home phone number.
After ten minutes of torture, the next Sleep Lab victim was up -- I was far better off than that poor soul. He had an extremely Indian name complete with run-on consonants with no vowels in sight. He had to repeat the spelling at least four times for her, which was apparently not enough because she still entered it incorrectly on his medical statement. As we waited for her to get it right a man burst through the ER doors pushing his wife in a wheelchair. I managed to jump out of their way just as she projectile-vomited all over the hallway. It was about that point when I realized that I hated hospitals.
Idiot #2 was finally ready to call up to the Lab at 9pm to have someone come and meet us. The technician, aka Idiot #3, arrived and huffed and puffed with the nurse about how late we were [this is the part where I scrunch up my face in disgust because SHE was the one who made us late] before leading us on a ten minute walk through a totally scary and dirty set of staircases. Once in the actual Lab, I lose all hope for having a decent night sleep. The bed is really small with a very light [and plastic-feeling] blanket. There is one pillow and the bed is pulled slightly away from the wall with no headboard. There is also a blarring absence of a TV set and only a few magazines: Star, Enquirer, a 4-month-old issue of People, and some golf thing.
I'm told to sign a few things and get into my sleeping clothes. The next half an hour is spent wiring me up: 4 sensors on my face, 7 on the rest of my head, 2 on my chest, 2 on each leg, a finger sensor that feels as though it's going to cut my right pointer-finger in half, and a wire device in my nose and over my lips that measures my breathing. All of the wires are secured down with two giant elastic bands around my waist and chest, which is really tight. It all connects to square circuit breaker type thing with a big parallel cable running out of the other end. Apparently this cable connects to a contraption next to the bed. At this point it's 10pm. Idiot #3, who by-the-way is West African and I can't understand a word he's saying to me, then says: ok, time for bed. Uhh... I don't know about the rest of you, but I go to bed at midnight most nights.
He hooks me in and closes the door. The lights start to dim, but that's all they do! As Ned will attest to, I need total darkness and silence to sleep. I'll go from zero to ultra-cranky is less than 5 seconds if the lights stay on too long when I'm tired. So I'm feeling a little anxious by this entire scenario: I can't move because I have wires sticking out in every direction, the bed is uncomfortable, the finger-sensor is starting to really hurt, I'm having a hard time breathing with the nose thing jammed in there, and now the lights are still on and people are talking on the other side of the damn door!
Needless to say, I never felt like I feel asleep. The technician came in a few hours later (he tells me it's 2:30am when I ask) and puts a breathing mask on me. This is surprising because it indicates that I have shown symptoms of sleep apnea. The mask is incredibly uncomfortable for multiple reasons. a) it forces me to keep my head completely straight because any movement made it slide off of my nose b) the head band was making all the sensors in my head dig deeper into my scalp c) the hose to the mask was leaking air all over my arm d) my nose instantly became stuffed up so I felt like I was suffocating.
Three hours later I had had enough. I yanked the finger-sensor off, which is supposed to indicate that I need someone to come into my room. I really just took it off because it hurt so damn much. Apparently I had given in at the exact minute that it was time to wake up because Idiot #3 started to unplug me. So, at 5:30am I'm told that he can take most of the sensors off (meaning all but the 11 on my head) but I need to stay for testing throughout the day. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to go back to sleep and so I have to sit and wait for people to start their shift for the day. Finally around 6:30am the new guy comes in to review my data. He tells me that I may not need to stay afterall but I'll have to wait until my Doctor can confirm that. He gets paged but doesn't get back to us until about 7:30am. Thankfully the new guy had a TV wheeled in for me so I was kept entertained by the "Fair and Balanced" traffic reporting on Fox 25.
The Doctor finally said I could go so I was on the bus back to Cambridge by 7:45am. Normally I would have ended the story here by saying: it was all worth it because I'm finally going to experience a full night of sleep like normal people. However, I just got a call from the Lab... Apparently the idiot soft-spoken West African technician put the oxygen mask on me too early so they didn't get enough data. I've got to go back and do the whole damn thing over. And this time I'm going to have to stay for the rest of the day afterwards to do another kind of test. Christ! So I guess the pain suffered was not quite enough ...
Posted at 10:50 PM
Comments & Trackbacks
receptionista wrote on May 20, 2005 6:30 PM:
man, that sounds sucky.
although i admit the moment i read “sleep lab” i yawned. i can’t help it, talk about sleep makes me sleepy.
frecklegirl wrote on May 20, 2005 8:37 PM:
That is my complete nightmare. I also need complete dark and silence to sleep… you could bring an eye mask the next time and maybe your own pillow?
I am not sure what could make bearable though.
My dad had to have that done and they made him get the machine thingy for home… he does not use it. ever.
ange wrote on May 21, 2005 8:50 AM:
you’ve got to do it all AGAIN?
wouldn’t you rather be hung upside down from your toenails?
Jason wrote on May 23, 2005 10:16 AM:
Holy. Frigging. Crap.
That sounds like absolutely the least sleep inducing situation ever… What a drag, I won’t even go into the fact that people completely suck.
:(
Madge wrote on May 23, 2005 3:53 PM:
Uggh—What a horrible experience. Be careful what you look into though. As a sensitive sleeper you may find the solution to sleep apnea is a problem in and of itself. Diagnosis simply means that your insurance will cover a C-Pap machine-this you turn on (think humming fan/gurgly bong noise) while you sleep—It is accompanied by and attached to a mask-that you wear over your face—through this contraption-that I’m told is neither quiet nor comfortable—you are supposed to finally have a good nights sleep….??
presley wrote on May 23, 2005 11:27 PM:
Yea, multiple people have one in my family. My father swears by it… but after having one on my face for 3 hours i’m inclined to go for the surgery instead.