Woosh-click, woosh-click

Brian Wilson

Once you get over feeling like you are seven and your older brother is holding you underwater in the pool too long, adjusting to a CPAP machine is a breeze.

Earlier this summer I was finally able to get in for a sleep study. Or rather, I was able to do an at-home sleep study with the joy of having a weird silicone sucky-thing on my finger to keep tabs of the amount of oxygen in my blood through the night.

I have been dealing with sleep apnea issues for some time and for about the last two years have spent just about every night sleeping sitting up in a recliner to help me breathe. I had tried to get in for a sleep study last year, but with COVID had gotten as far as Marathon City before being called by the doctor’s office in Wausau to turn around and go home because they had people out.

I was finally able to get the study done in June. In late June my doctor in Medford informed me of the results of my sleep study noting that at some points during the night the amount of oxygen in my blood was down to 82% — by comparison the level is supposed to be between 95 and 100%.

The test also included a device which recorded my snoring through the night. Of all the medical jobs out there, listening to and taking notes on recordings of overweight, middle-aged men snoring like diesel trucks has got to rank among the least glamourous.

My doctor told me someone would be contacting me from the medical equipment supplier to talk about getting a CPAP machine and what my options would be. For those unfamiliar with CPAP machines, they provide continuous positive air pressure through a tube to a variety of different face mask options from adorable nasal pillows that sit just under your nose to big-honking Darth Vader-style masks that cover your nose and mouth.

Because my breathing was irregular through the night the machine the doctor recommended automatically adjusts the amount of pressure to what I need.

So then I began waiting. And waiting. Have I mentioned that in general I am not very good at waiting. Despite the fact that my chosen profession often involves sitting through some very long, very boring meetings, I am, in general, a very impatient person.

In mid-July, about the time I got the bill from a doctor in Wausau for reading the study that my doctor in Medford had already given me the result from, I decided to use the online patient interface and check on why I hadn’t heard anything yet. After a few rounds, I was told the fax from the doctor’s office hadn’t gotten to the medical goods people. Yeah, I was as surprised as you are that fax machines are still the go-to way of communicating for many medical people.

I was told that with the demand and supply chain issues the earliest I should expect my CPAP would be around November.

You can imagine how excited I was to get the phone call setting up an appointment for August 25 to get fitted for my CPAP. Going into the appointment I kept my expectation low thinking that they were just going to do a fitting and order the supplies I might need. I was thrilled when I walked out with a sleek blue handbag containing the machine and some fancy tubing that has built in heating coils.

The machine is pretty high-tech and I was told it sends my sleep statistics off wirelessly to where the CPAP police will know I am actually using it. I even got to download an app for my cellphone that lets me get a daily sleep score and lets me know that I did not die in my sleep that night.

This is actually reassuring, since my wife, Kim, is getting a little freaked out by my sudden lack of snoring.

I have always been a loud snorer. People walking by my home wonder who is running a chainsaw in the middle of the night. I scare small children and animals with the sound of my snoring.

The first night I used the CPAP, Kim woke me up at least five times because I wasn’t snoring and she wanted to make sure I was still alive.

And they said true love wouldn’t last. With about a week in, I am still adjusting to the nearly silent machine forcing air down my throat. The hardest part for me has been getting over the panic of having what I imagine as an invisible hand of air clamp down on my nose and mouth and instead remember to breathe normally.

So far, I think it has been helping, but I will keep you updated as I go along.

Brian Wilson is News Editor at The Star News.