Baby Bird Breaths, Part II
The sleep study did not go as expected. First of all, I stayed the entire night -- 8:30 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. -- instead of failing and being home by midnight as I had planned. Secondly, I used the BiPAP/CPAP. Finally, I did not enjoy the new machine at all.
When we arrived at the clinic in Pittsburgh, hearing that I would be using CPAP, not sleeping sans assistance, excited me. The place was small and non-threatening, and it lacked the sterility of a hospital. In fact, my room was decorated as if it was a bedroom in somebody's home. The walls were painted a mint/light-sage green and had a floral border near the ceiling. A queen-sized mattress sat upon a country bed frame and was dressed in a garden-motif comforter, and wrought-iron lamps hung on either side of the bed. The room had a TV with satellite cable, but instead of being mounted, it sat on a nightstand at the foot of the bed.
Lauri, the respiratory therapist assigned specifically to me, brought in my choice of masks -- nasal or full-face. I tried on the nasal, as she recommended it as a "good beginners mask," and I liked it very much. It was soft and comfortable and non-invasive. Unfortunately, when we connected it to the machine and turned it on, I wasn't getting the pressure that I felt I needed. I also tend to keep my lips parted even when breathing through my nose, which the machine senses as a leak.
I decided to try the anxiety-attack-inducing full-face mask. Now, it is a lesser known fact that I do not respond well to masks, especially ones that seal around my nose and mouth. In my iron lung, my entire body may be enclosed, but my head and face is free, and inside my arms and body can move around as if I was in a bed. The collar is the only thing restricting. Masks make me feel as if I'm being suffocated, and not being able to communicate freaks me out.
This mask also needed to be pulled very tight to create a seal, but not too tight as to pinch the face and hurt the bridge of the nose. I encountered this problem around 1:30 a.m. when, in attempt to get comforable and stop the metal monitoring electrodes from digging into the back of my head, the therapist had to re-adjust the straps due to my change in position. My mother, asleep in the recliner, didn't help my situation and refused to reposition me: "You lie on your back all night every night at home. If you think I'm going to adjust you once you're in a real bed, you're mistaken." How was I to sleep when I had prongs jammed into my skull, a plastic mask anchored too tightly to my face and had to continually call for Lauri's attention because my mother was being a bitch?
By this point, I was beyond frustrated and lying in bed cursing. I was also upset because, aside from the portability of the CPAP -- although my lung has never prohibited me from going on vacations, to college or to New York -- the other reason I'd chosen to try the new device was for Dobler. He had been saying how great it would be to have something so small and easy, and while at first I refused, the thought of being able to actually sleep in the same bed with him at night persuaded me. I felt like hating this machine was a let-down to us both, and I got angrier at myself the more I longed for my iron lung.
I did fall asleep from 2 to 4:30 a.m. Lauri was in charge of the CPAP settings and increased them accordingly as I slept and as my oxygen levels decreased. At 5 a.m., she disconnected me from the electrodes and sensors. They had collected more than enough data, which will be discussed with my pulmonologist at my appointment August 21. I expressed how uncomfortable I had been during the night, and she assured me that many people who use CPAP complain at first about the discomfort.
I haven't dismissed the idea of a new ventilator, and hopefully I can try one for a month or so after meeting with my doctor. However, nothing felt quite so blissful as my bulky, inconvenient lung at 7 a.m.
When we arrived at the clinic in Pittsburgh, hearing that I would be using CPAP, not sleeping sans assistance, excited me. The place was small and non-threatening, and it lacked the sterility of a hospital. In fact, my room was decorated as if it was a bedroom in somebody's home. The walls were painted a mint/light-sage green and had a floral border near the ceiling. A queen-sized mattress sat upon a country bed frame and was dressed in a garden-motif comforter, and wrought-iron lamps hung on either side of the bed. The room had a TV with satellite cable, but instead of being mounted, it sat on a nightstand at the foot of the bed.
Lauri, the respiratory therapist assigned specifically to me, brought in my choice of masks -- nasal or full-face. I tried on the nasal, as she recommended it as a "good beginners mask," and I liked it very much. It was soft and comfortable and non-invasive. Unfortunately, when we connected it to the machine and turned it on, I wasn't getting the pressure that I felt I needed. I also tend to keep my lips parted even when breathing through my nose, which the machine senses as a leak.
I decided to try the anxiety-attack-inducing full-face mask. Now, it is a lesser known fact that I do not respond well to masks, especially ones that seal around my nose and mouth. In my iron lung, my entire body may be enclosed, but my head and face is free, and inside my arms and body can move around as if I was in a bed. The collar is the only thing restricting. Masks make me feel as if I'm being suffocated, and not being able to communicate freaks me out.
This mask also needed to be pulled very tight to create a seal, but not too tight as to pinch the face and hurt the bridge of the nose. I encountered this problem around 1:30 a.m. when, in attempt to get comforable and stop the metal monitoring electrodes from digging into the back of my head, the therapist had to re-adjust the straps due to my change in position. My mother, asleep in the recliner, didn't help my situation and refused to reposition me: "You lie on your back all night every night at home. If you think I'm going to adjust you once you're in a real bed, you're mistaken." How was I to sleep when I had prongs jammed into my skull, a plastic mask anchored too tightly to my face and had to continually call for Lauri's attention because my mother was being a bitch?
By this point, I was beyond frustrated and lying in bed cursing. I was also upset because, aside from the portability of the CPAP -- although my lung has never prohibited me from going on vacations, to college or to New York -- the other reason I'd chosen to try the new device was for Dobler. He had been saying how great it would be to have something so small and easy, and while at first I refused, the thought of being able to actually sleep in the same bed with him at night persuaded me. I felt like hating this machine was a let-down to us both, and I got angrier at myself the more I longed for my iron lung.
I did fall asleep from 2 to 4:30 a.m. Lauri was in charge of the CPAP settings and increased them accordingly as I slept and as my oxygen levels decreased. At 5 a.m., she disconnected me from the electrodes and sensors. They had collected more than enough data, which will be discussed with my pulmonologist at my appointment August 21. I expressed how uncomfortable I had been during the night, and she assured me that many people who use CPAP complain at first about the discomfort.
I haven't dismissed the idea of a new ventilator, and hopefully I can try one for a month or so after meeting with my doctor. However, nothing felt quite so blissful as my bulky, inconvenient lung at 7 a.m.
posted by Claire C. Cake at 12:04 PM
1 Comments:
Great post! cpap accessories
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