As I haven’t been out much recently, my wallet was sitting on my desk, from my last bout of buying stuff online.
After it got dark, I was able to do the final test, and the answer is a minor *sigh*.
I really don’t know what it is about equipment manufacturers and backlit keys and displays, especially for machines meant for the bedroom. Am I the only one who thinks the bedroom should be relatively dark?
I have now been stuck with a CPAP that doesn’t work well for me for 4 weeks. During that time, I have been fobbed off by the technical people for a few days, had my notes placed with “my” consultant’s office for two weeks, ignoring the fact he is on annual leave, and for the past week the issue has been with another consultant, who I haven’t managed to speak with once, only repeated phone calls to his secretary. This is despite my stressing several times that I am not getting quality sleep, that it has affected my social life (a week’s holiday wasted, haven’t had the energy to go out once in the last 3 weeks) and work (tired all the time, to the point that I have taken time off). All they can see is that I have been giving a “new” (it’s not), “improved” (it’s not) machine.
Friday and Saturday nights, I ended up bringing my duvet downstairs and slept in my recliner chair, with the footrest out, but only slightly reclined. This was because every time I lay down in bed, I was wracked with coughing fits.
In the meantime while I have been waiting for a response from Papworth to my calls, I have been googling, and have discovered a UK company who can supply machines, masks and other accessories.
Today I had an appointment at Papworth hospital respiratory sleep centre. It was my annual appointment, where they check me out, and my machine, but I thought I could raise my issues and get them addressed.
So, naturally, just in time for my holiday break, the cellullitus that resulted from my hurting my leg in San Francisco (in March!) has reappeared for the third time.
Two months later: late Tuesday night, I was watching TV, when I felt a burning sensation in my leg. I rolled up my trousers to look at it, and a piece of skin the size of a 10p piece came away with it – it was just like a blister that had popped, but I had noticed no such blister, or any prior feeling of something amiss. Yesterday morning, it was looking inflamed, and I finally got to see a GP today. The cellulitus is back, and I am back on anti-biotics.
The nurse asked me if anyone at the surgery had ever measured my height. I have been going there 10 years, but thought about it, and answered “no”. The nurse tutted, and muttered words to the effect of “of course, they find it easier just to ask you, don’t they”.
I had a full range of blood tests 2 weeks ago, and have a further set scheduled for the start of May. So we will see if that sheds any light on the matter.
The person I spoke to – who admitted to having no medical training – was not interested in listening to a (brief) history of my condition, but only wanted to know my immediate symptoms.