Does everyone have sleep apnea? Overcoming my fear of CPAP machines: Ervolino

Today’s acronym has been haunting me for two years and recently made news because of two “very noticeable indentations,” which I did not notice but members of the White House press corps did.

The acronym, CPAP, stands for “continuous positive airway pressure” and refers to a particular gadget — an oxygen concentrator — which, according to the Mayo Clinic, “provides air at a pressure just high enough to prevent the collapse of your airway.”

And you don’t want a collapsed airway, do you?

Of course not.

I wrote a story about CPAP machine users six years ago. But the device is much older than that, going back to 1980, when an Australian chap named Colin Sullivan invented the earliest version of the machine to help his pug stop snoring.

I have searched around for the pug’s name — but haven’t had much luck. I will assume, though, that the pug in question is no longer with us.

Did he cross the Rainbow Bridge wearing his CPAP mask, or did he no longer need it?

I haven’t had much luck answering that question, either. (Perhaps a seance is in order.)

The CPAP made front-page news last month when some inquiring minds wondered why President Joe Biden had two indentations on his face during an appearance in Chicago.

Hmm…

Is he playing Bane in a sequel to “The Dark Knight Rises?” Or is he using a CPAP?

According to a White House spokesman, the president has a history of sleep apnea going back to 2008, but had only recently begun using the CPAP.

I was a bit rattled by this, because, two years ago, my pulmonologist and I argued about my using a CPAP.

As I recall, the conversation went something like this:

HIM: “Use it!”

ME: “No!”

This is one of the great paradoxes in my life and, I suspect, in the lives of more than a few other journalists: You write a story about something that other people should do. You tell them why they should do it. And then it’s your turn to do it, but you don’t want to do it.

“I am not wearing one of those things,” I resolutely told my doctor.

At the time, at least six of my friends had received the same proclamation from their doctors: “You need a CPAP!”

This led to the kind of conversation that rankles me when I hear other people having it: We began coming up with REASONS why so many doctors were prescribing these things.

“They probably get a cut from the sales,” one person said.

Another insisted that it was all part of “Big Pharma’s” plot to conquer the universe.

We were essentially grasping at straws because, down deep, we don’t believe anything anymore.

My doctor had asked me about my sleeping habits: “Do you snore? Do you wake up suddenly, gasping for breath? Do you…”

Blah, blah, blah.

I said “no” to all of his questions.

“Well,” he said, completely disregarding what I had just told him, “you definitely need a CPAP machine.”

Uh…

In case no one has told you this, I am NOT one of those people who would never yell at a doctor.

“IF I DON’T HAVE THESE PROBLEMS, WHY DO I NEED THIS MACHINE?”

My parents and most of their generation never questioned a doctor, never disagreed with one and never challenged anything they said. They never yelled at a doctor and, because of this, no doctor ever yelled back at them.

Mine yell back.

“YOU NEED ONE,” he said, “BECAUSE YOU’RE OLD AND FAT!”

Within seconds, my eyes widened, my back arched and I envisioned myself knocking him down and wrestling him into the hallway.

I didn’t do it, though, mostly because I’m old and fat and have a bad back and my knees are shot.

Grumble.

Eventually, I consented to a test, which involved taking home some silly monitor that I had to wear on my face while I slept.

This, of course, was a disaster. All night long, I kept waking up and ripping it off my face.

“See? This is just what I was talking about,” my doctor said three days later. “You woke up several times during the night.”

“I woke up because that stupid thing was annoying me,” I said.

This was two years ago. He insisted I get the machine, but I never did.

Since then, several people have told me how they had also refused to wear one, but then changed their minds and felt that it had helped them tremendously.

“Changed my life,” one friend insisted.

So, here I am, on the precipice of overcoming my C-papaphobia. I still can’t imagine getting a good night’s sleep wearing something like this.

But, in the interests of science, my future health and all mankind, I’m going to give it a shot.

If a pug survived it, I suppose I can, too.

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: CPAP machines help you sleep better, but will you use it?: Ervolino