After a bout of pneumonia Amos snored like a car being jump-started; with each laborious breath his chest heaved and his stomach hollowed.
We got worried, but after having monitored him for a few days we reckoned it was okay and let him be. Besides, the doctors who discharged him weren’t fretting over it.
That was how Amos ended up living with it for weeks before we finally decided it was a serious anomaly. We had Amos checked out and the ENT ordered a sleep test. The results of it were one of the worst they had encountered.
Amos was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea that was severe enough to warrant immediate treatment.
I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice to say that more than once in every minute of sleep Amos stopped breathing, and leaving it untreated meant risking stunted growth, developmental delays, pulmonary hypertension, heart disease, heart failure…the list goes on.
Sleep was wearing him down like a plague.
Our attending doctor enumerated the consequences when we revealed scepticism on the need and effectiveness of treatment. I wasn’t being objective about it; I was guilty of dragging expenses into the picture and I struggled not to let bitterness get the better of me.
I was sad because a thought slipped in naturally: when would this ever end?
It was a selfish thought because Amos wouldn’t have wanted this if he’d known what it was. In the end we went along with all that the doctor recommended.
Of course we did. Amos is our sweet little boy. How else could it be done?
This was how we ended up with the latest giz on the block – a Continuous Positive Airway Pressure machine, or CPAP. It’s a gadget that continually forces air into Amos' airway so that any drooping muscle, falling tongue or tonsils would be pushed out of the way. It straps on like the oxygen mask of a fighter pilot and when the straps come loose it turns Amos into a bunny with an elephant’s trunk.
And yes, Amos has to wear that to sleep every night for the next four to five years, at least.
But we’re thankful. We're so thankful that Amos took to it like a fish in water. He struggled with it for a couple of days and then he probably realised it was something that would do him a lot of good. He would perch on his mattress as a docile little darling when the CPAP came on. He would fiddle with it for a while, have us tighten the straps a few more times over before finally falling asleep.
Another sleep test was done recently to check the effectiveness of the CPAP treatment and Amos passed it with flying colours. The sleep technologist, having been charmed by Amos’ cutesy antics, remarked he was the best two year-old she’s had. The ENT consultant dismissed the need for surgery, for now.
In the weeks after Amos became more active and testy than ever. His standing and walking improved tremendously. It could’ve been the CPAP, terrible-twos, or both.
And for all that we are exceedingly thankful.
I snore. I’ve also been told that by family and friends. Perhaps that’s why I love to sleep. I sleep even in the day; anytime and anywhere.
The CPAP gizmo cost a bit. It works and now I only hope it lasts. Maybe once Amos grows out of it I could take it over.
Who knows?
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." Philippians 4:6
Photo of sleeping dog: NickiMM via Foter.com