Today we have to go back to our favourite place for a mini break to complete a sleep study.
Wriggles has gigantic adenoids, tonsils that want to stand up and be counted and on going reflux and on top of this is a restless and noisy sleeper. She often snores like a drunk having fallen out of the pub-so lady like. All of these things combined with a "ropey chest" (to quote one of the consultants. There's nothing like being blunt) means they are keen to rule out central or obstructive sleep apnoea.
Besides, it's been nearly just over two weeks since we were last on the respiratory wards which must mean it's time to go back again.
All that aside though, this admission I'm not too bothered about. Yes, it's a bit of a faff but this has to be our only admission with no intervention, apart from putting some wires on and off and possibly the odd beep. So I'm feeling a bit chipper. Our other planned admission involved surgery and an anaesthetic and our next planned admission (an MRI) also involves a sedative. So this one: I wouldn't go as far to say I'm laughing, but you get the picture. I'm sitting on the fence to if they find anything-I think since the tube was placed her snoring has improved massively (which would fit in with aspiration being reduced) although it certainly hasn't gone altogether. They may well find nothing of concern which would be marvellous. If they do, I'm not entirely clear of the next step but suspect it may involve removing said adenoids and tonsils, which if it came to it I'm not against. Whilst I am far from a fan of surgery, they are proving to be a blessed pest and secretly I've clung on to stories that non-eaters started eating better after the removal of them and tonsils, although our consultant has warned me this would not be a given.
I do feel a slight amount of nostalgia going back. Maybe not nostalgia (after all, we are barely out of there enough to feel such) but fondness for such a chunk of our lives has been played out in that blessed hospital. So for a non-scary visit, I'm almost looking forward to it. Change of scenery? En-suite? Travel packets of instant coffee? Check! And besides, I can't possibly do the washing up or sorting out piles of rubbish in my flat if I'm not there!
If I stop and think about it, it makes me sad. Sad that we are that used to hospital that it feels like a break or a holiday to go in for ultimately some important diagnostic tests. So I'm not going to. For now, I'm going to pack our best pyjamas and some travel sized toiletries and pretend it's all fine. I bet it will last until we have to leave the flat.
Then you'll have to drag me there.