Of Masks and Morons

adventures in healthcare

I once heard that more people are afraid of public speaking than death. Or, put another way, most people would rather be the one in the coffin than the one giving the eulogy.

According to a survey from YouGov (whoever they are), snakes are the most common fear among Americans. After snakes, the top fears are heights, spiders, and public speaking. Clowns, large bodies of water, and social situations were also high on the list. Sixteen percent of those surveyed said they don’t have any fears; those people scare the shit out of me.

Doctors made the list, but they fell between “being touched,” which is something doctors do at work, and animals, which typically aren’t allowed at healthcare facilitates, unless they’re service animals like an emotional support dolphin, or an iguana that has power of attorney.

But the most surprising thing to me about the YouGov survey is that nobody seemed to be afraid of customer service. That’s strange — stranger than the 10% of respondents who said they feared vomiting. After all, customer service is a nightmare. And what is a nightmare, if not a dream where your worst fears come to life?

Which brings me to my APAP machine. In a previous Situation Normal episode titled “I’m trying to save my marriage,” we learned that the APAP is the new CPAP, and that CPAP is the “gold-standard” for treating sleep apnea.

I have sleep apnea, and so my healthcare provider arranged for a third-party vendor to send me an APAP machine. At first, I was excited for two reasons:

1. I’m trying to stop snoring so I can save my marriage

2. There ain’t no party like a third-party

When the third-party called to arrange delivery, the woman on the phone asked what kind of mask I wanted.

“I don’t know. What do you recommend?”

She gave me a recommendation. The whole process took ninety seconds.

A few days later, my APAP machine arrived. The first night was good. According to the APAP app (say that ten times as fast as you can), I woke up once every hour. Since anything below five times per hour is considered good, and since my sleep test determined that I was waking up 19 times per hour, I was ready to declare victory over sleep apnea.

But the next morning, I woke up with a sore nose. The mask was rubbing the skin around my nostrils raw. It was painful. I couldn’t wear the mask anymore, which meant I couldn’t use the APAP. Every day, the app would taunt me: “Christina is going to leave you for a man who doesn’t snore.”

I had to do something. I called the third-party, but this time the party sucked. After getting passed around like a joint at a Phish concert, I ended up speaking with Ava.

“Which mask do you want?”

“I don’t know. Can you recommend a mask that goes over my nose? I think the problem is that this one goes into my nose, and that’s causing irritation.”

“We can’t recommend a mask,” Ava said. “Only your healthcare provider can do that.”

At this point, Kafka entered the chat. I explained to Ava that one of her colleagues had made a recommendation. She insisted that wasn’t true. We went around in circles on that point for nine minutes. When it was over, I knew two things: truth was an illusion, and I was a cockroach.

My next call was to my healthcare provider. The first-party was a better party. After being passed around like a joint at an Afroman concert, Bill came on the line. Bill was empathetic. Too empathetic. He wouldn’t shut up about how an APAP machine had saved his marriage.

“Can you recommend a mask for me?” I asked for the tenth time.

“I can’t,” Bill said. “I’m just the answering service for the sleep clinic. But I can have Troy call you.”

“Is Troy able to recommend a mask?”

“Yes. He helped me pick out my mask. Troy is the best.”

Two days later, Troy called. He asked me a few questions about the problems I was experiencing. Then he asked me a few more questions about my sleeping habits and facial hair situation. He recommended a different mask. I don’t know if Troy is the best, but to quote Maude Lebowski, he’s a good man and thorough.

“I’ll place the order,” Troy said. “It should be there in a few days. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I could’ve said no. After all, I had a new mask on the way, and I knew the route through the customer service labyrinth to get in touch with Troy in case that mask didn’t work. But I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know if the first person at the third-party was following protocol, or if Ava, the second person at the third-party, was right. So I told Troy about my customer service journey.

Like Bill, Troy was also empathetic, but not overly so.

“I’m sorry. They’re morons. They’re not supposed to make recommendations. If they do, don’t listen to them.”

So Ava was right. But I was also right. Somewhere out there in Customer Service Land, I like to believe that this century’s Kafka is scribbling away.

A few days later, the morons sent me a new mask. This one works like a charm. My sleep apnea score is consistently below five, and there’s zero irritation. Equally important, Christina can sleep again.

I saved our marriage with an assist from Troy.

But like all victories, I fear this one may be fleeting. In a few months, I’ll need to order new supplies for my APAP machine. Once again, I’ll have to do battle with morons. I’m not looking forward to that day, but at least I’ll be well rested for the fight.

Shout time!

Big thanks to Alexandre da Silva and

McDuffie Putnam

for becoming Situation Normal’s newest supporters! Sending you both good vibes via UPS.

Also a big thank you goes out to my friend Geoffrey Golden, who gave us our next Situation Normal adventure: Bob Baker Marionette Theater. I’m working on a budget for this story. Once it’s funded, I’ve got the green light to do some serious reportage on LA’s puppet scene. You can help by upgrading👇

Scheduling

I’m off the next two weekends for vacation, so no regularly schedule Sunday Situation Normal. But I have been known to write a travel post or two. Escape from monkey mountain is a classic of the genre.

Stick around and chat

I call, you answer

1. What are you afraid of? Dig deep.

2. Vomiting? Can someone explain that fear? I don’t get it.

3. Afroman or Phish? Choose wisely, and be prepared to explain.

4. Are you a first-party person, or a third-party person?

5. Am I the second-party?

6. Bonus: Why is healthcare so confusing? Wrong answers only.