Sleepy Joe Hauls Gasoline | #Apnea #CPAP
“I’m going to punch that blabbermouth in his mouth,” Joe shared his frustration with his wife Sandy as he threw his 400 lbs body in his favorite lazy chair. He was referring to his childhood buddy, Bill, who had called him “Sleepy Joe” at their usual VFW gathering on Saturday. Lately, Joe had been dozing off repeatedly – sometimes mid-sentence, at times with his mouth full of food, and once on the commode. The worst one though was when he fell asleep while standing at the bar. “How can you stay awake hauling gasoline?” Bill had probed after watching that last debacle.
“I told that jerk that behind the wheel of my tanker, I am more alert than a teen after a six pack of Red Bull,” Joe looked at Sandy’s skinny face lifting the sack of tummy fat up from his thigh. “Who does not get sleepy once in a while? But I know how to fight it, you prick,” Joe continued his offense as Sandy nodded in agreement.
“Just ignore that smarty pants. He knows very well you’ve driven a million miles without a problem,” Sandy supported his argument but kept on looking for ways to convince Joe to get the much-needed help.
“The whole world is ganging up on me – the BMV, my doctor, and now my pals!’ Joe whined referring to the sleep test the Bureau of Motor Vehicles made him do which showed that he does have sleep apnea and that he stops breathing 100 times an hour. He has to, at night, wear the mask connected to a CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine.
“Hun, it does increase your risk of high blood pressure, stroke, heart attack and death. Remember, Dr. Patel told us? You have to wear that little mask when you sleep,” Sandy tried to reason with him as she planted her bony frame on his lap pushing his bulging belly aside.
“I don’t trust anyone who speaks with that kind of an accent. I don’t know what kind of medical school he went to. I don’t even know if that little prick went to a medical school at all,” Sir Joseph Hardhead continued. “They can take my CDL. They can take my job. I don’t care. I would rather die in sleep than wear that f***ing machine.” Saying this, Joe got up from his recliner so fast that Sandy almost fell on the floor.
This near fall reminded Sandy of the real fall that occurred last week when Joe’s snoring kept on getting louder and louder. His struggle to breathe too kept on getting more and more forceful until with a thundering snort, his throat opened up, and a humongous cloud of air rushed into his lungs. But this crescendo effort caused a Tsunami in the waterbed so powerful that it flew Sandy’s fragile frame up in the air and then down on the ground! Surprisingly, Sleepy Joe had no recollection next morning of this comic calamity.
Tonight, like all the other nights, the snoring is going to be the same, Sandy thought. She stayed in the little corner of Joe’s recliner; she could hear Joe’s snoring already. She too was frustrated with Joe’s sleepiness, inattention, and laziness, but didn’t know what to do. Tired and sleepy, she headed to the bedroom.
“Hey Joe, wake up, wake up. I want to tell you something.” She kept on punching him.
“What is it, Sandy?” Joe finally answered, his eyes still half closed.
“I remember reading on the internet that sleep apnea causes erectile difficulties, and loss of desire besides the other things the Doc mentioned,” Sandy shared hesitantly.
Joe sat up in bed quickly, looked at Sandy with eyes wide open, and said, “Really?” Trying to hide his excitement, he added, “OK, love, give me that mask. I will wear it every night, just for you!”