Let's Make a Deal

The day after I posted the last post ("Death Wish?"), I had two doctor appointments. One was with my voice doctor, Dr. Woo, whom I don't believe I've written about yet. The second one was with Dr. DePalo. I don't think I've blogged about my sleep apnea, have I? Well, a few months ago Dr. DePalo had me sleep with a monitor of some kind strapped to my chest that was connected to a nasal cannula. This contraption determined that I have sleep apnea and that while I'm asleep I stop breathing thirty times per hour. That seems pretty intense, don't you think? When he got the results he wanted me to go to a sleep disorder center for an overnight evaluation. I refused because the only thing that really helps sleep apnea is a C-Pap machine. There is no way I'm going to wear that monstrosity when I sleep.

Furthermore, there is no way I'd be able to sleep wearing one.

I have enough trouble falling asleep as it is, thank you very much. So if I wasn't gonna use the bloody thing anyway, it didn't make much sense for me to go for the study, right? The girls in DePalo's office had made an appointment for me at the sleep clinic and I cancelled it. Well, yesterday Dr. DePalo was extremely pleased with the progress I've been making. He cut my Prednisone all the way down to 5 milligrams and told me I could discontinue a medication I've been taking called Mepron, which is a thick liquid that's almost a neon yellow and is among the most vile things I've ever swallowed, which says a lot. So the two of us were just kind of shooting the breeze. He was in an unusually good mood, having just trashed Dr. Katzenelenbogen for a change. "I know...I can be a little arrogant at times", he said. "You? Arrogant??", I countered. We were having fun and I thought I might catch him at a weak moment so I brought up the Bird Question again for the umpteenth time. He might have had the same strategy in mind when he suddenly mentioned the sleep clinic for the first time in a while. He said that long-term untreated sleep apnea puts you at risk for a heart attack or stroke. I tried articulating my objections once more, telling him that I wouldn't (or couldn't) use a C-Pap machine.

That's when he shocked me with...

"Okay, I'll make you a deal; you go for the sleep study and you can get the damn bird".

I was stunned. I don't think I've ever made a deal with a doctor before. "Deal!", I exclaimed, almost before he had finished the sentence. There were some caveats (I had to purchase my new companion from a reputable dealer, which I do anyway, I had to keep the cage super clean, it had to be a little guy, not another Oscar-esque feathered monster), but I was cool with all of them. I told him I needed a prescription for the bird, and I almost wasn't kidding; I figured none of my family naysayers would believe it without some kind of tangible, written confirmation. I want a prescription, I said, and I want it signed and notarized in triplicate. I told him my sister or my kids might want to call him and he said sure, no problem. Truth be told, I never got the impression that he was among those who were totally convinced that it had been the birds that made me sick in the first place. "Better safe than sorry" was closer to his attitude. He's an animal person (he has at least one dog, maybe more) so he understands how much it means to me. I know Dr. DePalo very well.  He would never do anything to jeopardize my recovery.  Not because he cares so much about me; because he cares so much about him.  If I were to relapse it would be a reflection on His Majesty, and he won't be party to that. So it looks like I'll be getting a bird. This is not about my being an overgrown rebellious teenager, for a change. This is about weighing risk against genuine need, and I'm convinced that when that need is fulfilled, not only will it not hurt me, it will ultimately help me on my road back to emotional and physical health. In fact, I feel better already!