Originally posted on Cystic Fibrosis News Today.
For those unfamiliar with the Broadway sensation “Phantom of the Opera,” one of its most famous songs is called “The Music of the Night.”
I was enjoying Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music the other night when I realized it was 3 a.m. It made me think of all the nights that my cystic fibrosis (CF) or CF-related medications kept me awake until the wee hours of the morning.
Insomnia
Insomnia is the first issue that comes to mind. I’ve never had a proper sleep schedule. Sometimes medicine was the culprit behind my tosses and turns. Trikafta (elexacaftor/tezacaftor/ivacaftor) is known to cause this, but other medications like prednisone can have the same effect.
Out of desperation, I asked my doctor if I could swap morning and evening pills in an attempt to regulate my schedule. It worked for a period of time, but the effects soon wore off.
My doctors also tried to distinguish between mental health concerns and medication side effects when my sleep schedule was off. Stress and anxiety were definitely factors. I’d panic if I started to fall asleep before completing my nighttime routine of nebulized medication, chest physical therapy, nasal rinse, and pills. Naps were short-lived because I’d cough myself awake, and getting up early meant I had a long morning routine ahead of me.
The peace of nighttime was the third culprit. Insurance companies don’t call at 3 a.m., nor do staffers scheduling appointments for doctors’ offices. There are no prescriptions waiting at the pharmacy or messages in my patient portal. Turns out, the peace and quiet of 3 a.m. is worth staying up for.
Fever
I don’t always get a fever, but when I do, it happens at 3 a.m. I don’t know of any studies that can explain my late-night fevers. Perhaps it’s the timing of my night medication mixed with the warmth of my weighted blanket. Regardless, all trips to the emergency room begin at 3 a.m.
The 104-degree fever I had three years ago, just months before my bilateral lung transplant, was the highest fever I recall having. I remember my mom’s widened eyes peering down at the thermometer as she wiped the sweat off my head. She loaded me up with Tylenol before driving me to the emergency room in the pitch dark. It turned out I had the flu in addition to end-stage CF.
Mucus
At the beginning of my relationship with my husband, I would do twice as many nebulizer treatments in the hopes that it would suppress my nighttime cough. No one wants to be awakened from a slumber by the sound of a partner’s nasty cough followed by an urgent trip to the bathroom.
Every nightstand required a full pack of tissues in the event that my mucus wanted to make an appearance. This made sleepovers, hotel stays, and other destination sleeps inconvenient at best. Plus, I have acid reflux, and like most people with reflux and breathing issues, I’ve been advised to sleep at a 45-degree angle. Unfortunately, I must be lying flat to fall asleep.
There’s one lyric in “Music of the Night” that inspires me:
“Sing once again with me
Our strange duet
My power over you grows stronger yet.”
I always say the phrase to myself before I fall asleep, like a power move over the always threatening nighttime. I know my medications will eventually adjust and my insomnia will linger. At least my mucus of the night hasn’t made an appearance in a couple of weeks. I wonder what excitement tonight will bring.