Little Boy Blue (Chapter One)
“You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.
You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
Does your bedmate drone about things that hold no interest to you? Have you ever wanted to tell them to “SHUT UP and sleep?” Or your kids, after putting them to bed, do they call your name and ask for this and that? Do you want to tell them to “SHUT UP and sleep?” Or, most importantly, while going out of your mind, lying restlessly on a bed, do you wish you could SHUT UP and sleep?
What if you can’t?
“Does your son breathe with his mouth open?” It was a simple question I posed to a father who brought his young child in for an evaluation of nightmares. Unbeknownst to me, I had inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject and was surprised by the answer that ensued.
The boy’s father began to vent his frustrations. He said, “For as long as I can remember, my son has never shut his mouth.” It’s open during the day, it’s open at night, it’s open when he takes pictures, and it’s even open when he chews. It’s repulsive and has come to the point that I can’t stand eating with him anymore. It’s bad manners and disgusting to see remnants of a half-digested meal rolling around in his mouth. I’ve yelled at him, threatened him, and even made him leave the table without supper, but he still refuses to chew with his mouth closed. I finally made him eat in a separate room.”
As his father described his behavior, I couldn’t help but notice the young boy sitting slumped, shoulders hunched forward, staring at the floor, feeling scorned and worthless. His demeanor made it evident that this was not the first time he had suffered his father’s fury on this issue. I felt sorry for him but knew I could help him if his father allowed.
When we left my office and entered the examination room, I observed the young boy’s long and narrow face. From his flaring nostrils, crooked teeth, and recessed jaws, it was clear to me that the young boy was a mouth breather from his appearance, even before I looked at the cephalometric x-rays I had ordered. A cephalometric x-ray allows a doctor to measure the jaw angle and length, airway size in the back of the throat, and position of the teeth in the bone. Although there were no observable tonsils in the back of his mouth, the x-ray revealed some of the most prominent adenoids I had ever seen in a child. The adenoids completely blocked the airway, and it was not surprising this poor child could not breathe through his nose, no matter what his father did to him. For him, in his current state of development, it was physically impossible. I was confident the father had no idea what was happening.
“Sir, how important is air for the life of your son?” I asked. “Well, I know that he has to breathe to live,” answered his father, somewhat perplexed by the question. “From observing the physical characteristics of your son’s face coupled with the findings on the x-ray, it is evident to me that your son is unable to breathe through his nose. The nose is obstructed and has not developed for breathing. This problem is correctable, but in his present state, he can only breathe through his mouth, even while he eats, so as a result, he eats with his mouth open,” I explained.
His father was in disbelief. I showed him his son’s airway on the x-ray and how adenoid tissue blocked it. He avoided eye contact and changed the subject. “So, how do we stop the nightmares?” he inquired. I told him that the nightmares would subside once he could breathe normally. While I could prescribe medications and refer him to counseling, the benefits would be short-lived as the bad dreams would return without resolving the airway and breathing issue first.
“How do you resolve it?” he asked. “The first step is to remove the adenoids to open the airway surgically,” I explained. “Next, we can refer him to an orthodontist to widen his palate. Finally, and most importantly, we will send him to a myofunctional therapist to teach him to properly swallow and practice exercises to strengthen the muscles of his face, tongue, and throat,” I added. The father gathered his things with visible discontent. He then looked me straight in the eyes and emphatically stated, “He’s only five, and you want him to have surgery, get orthodontics, and see a myowhatever therapist? I only wanted to talk about his sleep. There is nothing else wrong with him except that he is pigheaded and has terrible table manners. He definitely doesn’t need surgery!”
He took the boy’s hand and yanked him as they left. I never saw them again. I sometimes wonder what became of the sad, suffering boy. Did he get help for his problem? Did he find someone who would look past his nightmares and treat his breathing issue? This conversation occurred nearly twenty years ago. I wonder what the boy, now a twenty-five-year-old man, is doing. How has life turned out for him? I hope someone was able to help.
In many ways, I have seen this boy time and time again in the confines of my office. I have held his hand and looked into his eyes. The boy is not of one sex of a man or woman. Neither is he or she a particular age. The boy is the everyday person who has toiled and ached and known defeat, from the anxious mother holding her newborn baby to the senile gentleman discovering a new way of living. He is in the hearts of those yearning to build a new life. He is also in the eyes of those searching for a manner of existence that knows no strife or suffering.
The boy is the inattentive child in a class, the enraged driver on the road, and the grandmother clutching her chest in pain. The boy is also the angry father who ridicules and strikes his son in exasperation and is ashamed that the world of peace and serenity is closed to him. We are all that anxious mother, senile gentleman, inattentive child, enraged driver, angry father, and matriarch. We are all that boy.
This book is about that little boy blue and you, a compilation of maladies suffered by the everyday person who has walked through my doors. Though you may be dubious that one individual could experience each of the manifold symptoms and scenarios so visually described, it can be reasonably said - making allowances for occasional minor dramatics - that collectively you or someone like yourself has been the victim of each of these or similar life experiences. It is my honor and privilege to be with you this evening, on this stage called life, to be your guide on the journey toward better sleep and health.
Chapter One Conclusion