Options for pediatric sleep studies are few and far between. There were basically two options in the entire Dallas area. The first one I called wanted $3300 for their time. The second one quoted $900. There seems to be a little discrepancy here between what is actually the exact same procedure. One goes through insurance… one does not. I bet you can figure out which is which. But that is a different topic, for another time.
Obviously, I chose the $900 study. Everything takes its sweet time of course, and about a month after the ENT appointment we were finally on our way to do the sleep study. I had zero idea what to expect. The first surprise was that we were to arrive at 8:30 pm. Baby Girl will already be asleep by then I said. They weren’t concerned. 8:30 is the earliest time you can arrive. No one is here before then. Well alrighty then, I guess we will figure it out. At 7:30 pm, after an exceedingly long day, we are in the car ready to tackle the unknown. Baby Girl wants to know where we are going in the dark. We’re going to sleep in a hotel! I say. Since she doesn’t know what a hotel is, she just looks at me sideways and then goes to sleep.
The place is pitch black when we arrive. No lights anywhere – and I can’t even figure out where the entrance is. I do a reconnaissance around the building. Leaving Baby Girl asleep in the car I go up to a door and press the buzzer. Finally a light comes on and the nurse/receptionist/technician person comes to the door. Hi, she whispers. And I have totally forgotten what her name is, so we’ll just call her Annette. Hi, I whisper back. The kid is asleep and I need to bring all the stuff in. I lug all our sleeping must haves through the front door and go back to get Baby Girl, who sleepily snuggles into my arms before spying the stranger waiting at the door. WHO IS THAT? Hi whispers Annette to Baby Girl – what’s your name? I can’t really figure out why we are whispering right now, as there is no one else around, but I go along with it. Baby Girl just stares and says nothing.
Annette leads us through the building, whispering the entire time – showing us the bathrooms and the technician’s room and finally to our “hotel room.” The place is basically shaped like a circle once you get through the main reception area. The rooms are arranged so that the technicians can see all the door numbers. There’s only four sleeping rooms total. So I guess that the same technician does all four rooms in a night. She has a helper, whom we will call John. John is a super nice guy – obviously has kids of his own and Baby Girl warms right up. Annette is a little high strung (even though she is whispering) and she strikes me as being a complete control freak. Which is probably very necessary in what she has to do. She obviously requires John’s help but is somewhat put out that he even needs to be there.
Baby Girl has fallen asleep in my arms again while we are waiting for things to get started. But when I lay her on the bed she wakes up again. The room is kind of cool – pretty much like a hospital/hotel room. Normal full size bed, carpet, a chair and lamp to one side and a phone and that’s it. A TV on the wall that we never turn on. I was expecting a more sterile looking environment – stainless steel gurney and “nurse” standing over us with an injection looking sinister. I’m relieved to find a cozier atmosphere. Baby Girl is completely unfazed by any of it. She has barely said a word. Just looked around with interest and showed John her stuffed kitty.
They start putting all the electrodes and belts and things all over Baby Girl. She literally just sits there and lets them do it. Annette says “wow what an even tempered girl!” Too which I reply – after a moment of stunned silence – “No she’s not usually. At all.” But she’s basically asleep anyway and she is being SO GOOD. I can’t believe it. She lets them put all the electrodes on and they even have to press this goo on her head to keep the electrodes from falling off and then tape on top of that and she doesn’t utter a sound. She watches, and even helps by handing them the little cords and lines that they need to hook up. They put the oxygen thing on her finger and she thinks that’s the coolest thing ever. It lights up like ET (not that she’s ever seen ET of course) and she keeps showing John how neat it is.
Finally they wrap this gauze all over her head and everything is hooked up and it’s time for sleeping. I’m just amazed at how much crap is all over my Baby Girl – and how well she’s taking it. So they turn out the lights and she snuggles up to me and falls asleep within 10 minutes.
As usual, Baby Girl wakes up multiple times and snores and everything else she normally does. At one point she wakes up, stands up and turns around and then lays back down. Leaving her totally tangled up in the wires. Another time she rolls dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Both times nurse Annette comes in to fix things. Obviously I am awake and keeping watch over my fledgling. The gauze does not stay on her head. The oxygen thing does not stay on her finger. Eventually Annette moves it to her foot. Somehow the night passes. At 6:30 in the morning Annette bellows over the loudspeaker that it’s time to wake up – WTF happened to the whispering?! – and Baby Girl FREAKS OUT. Later I find out that when the good morning call came, Baby Girl was in one of only two REM stage sleeps. And that she was wrenched out of it. Poor thing. It’s almost funny, now. When Baby Girl’s heart rate (and Mama’s!) finally slowed down Annette and John were able to take all the crap off of her. Baby Girl even helped. Only a couple whiny moments where the tape pulled her skin.
As we left that morning Baby Girl was in a great mood, happy and smiling and singing in the car. I, however, was totally drained. At least one of us slept!
After another month we finally got to learn the results. Baby Girl woke up 41 times in the night. She stopped breathing for more than 10 seconds 11 times. Her oxygen levels were too low. She had only two REM sleep periods, for about 30 minutes each. All in all, terrible results. Her physician said that the tonsils must come out, and the adenoids, and let’s put in ear tubes since we’ll be there anyway.
So wish us luck, say a prayer, cuz Monday morning we’re on our way to Cook Children’s hospital in Ft. Worth.