When N was in the fourth grade, it was recommended that he get a sleep study. He went through the whole thing of having electrodes glued to his head and trying to get to sleep in a strange place. Tough night for him and Dad (thank you, sugar), but they got through it. I remember I was out of town when I got the results via a call on my cell phone. The nurse sounded alarmed at the lack of oxygen he received during several episodes of . . . . non-breathing. (I forgot the medical word for that.) She also told me the number of times he stopped breathing which was very scary. It appeared that there was an immediate need for a CPAP machine and an ENT referral.
He got his tonsillectomy for Christmas that year (arrrghhh) and I thought that would be the end of that. But lately my poor guy seems less than energetic. We have had another sleep study in the works for months now – reams of paperwork turned in, etc. I finally called yesterday to discover that they cannot find the paperwork that took way too long to fill out. The kind nurse offered to ask me the vital questions over the phone. (I could hear her flipping pages to find what to do in case of dealing with mom with quivery voice.) Yay Frances! I love her.
But the best part of this story is that while she was filling out the paperwork, it came up that my son has Down syndrome. I could hear a smile in her voice as she said, “My little brother has Down syndrome. He is the best thing that ever happened to our family.” So cool.