the end of the hall. It reminds me of the shiny crimson mirror of blood on the floor.
Before leaving I turn up the music. It is not Chopin this time, but rather Hoist's Planets Suite, a movement called 'Venus, The Bringer of Peace'.
Peace.
Sometimes, I think, as I step through the door for the last time, the music exalts the moment.
Sometimes it is the other way around.
Chapter 41
The Penn Sleep Center, part of the University of Pennsylvania Hospital system, was located in a modern steel and glass building on Market Street near 36th.
Byrne crossed the river about six, found a parking space, checked in at the desk, presented his insurance card, sat down, speed-skimmed a copy of Neurology Today, one of his all-time favorite magazines. He covertly checked the handful of people scattered around the waiting room. Not surprisingly, everyone looked exhausted, beat-up, dragged- out. He hoped everyone there was a new patient. He didn't want to think they were on their twentieth appointment and still looked this bad.
'Mr. Byrne?'
Byrne looked up. Standing at the end of the long desk was a blonde woman, no more than five feet tall. She was in her early forties and wore pink-rimmed glasses. She was perky and full of energy. Insomniacs hate perky.
Byrne got up, walked over to the bubbly gal in white rayon.
'Hi!' she chirruped. 'How are you today?'
'Never better, thanks,' Byrne said. Of course, if that was the case, what the hell was he doing at the hospital? 'How about yourself?'
'Super!' she replied.
Her name tag read Viv. Probably short for Vivacious.
'We're just going to check your height and weight.' She led him over to the digital scale, instructed him to take off his shoes. He stepped on the scale.
'I don't want to know how much I weigh, okay?' Byrne said. 'Lately I've just been… I don't know. It's hormonal, I think.'
Viv smiled, zipped her lips in a dramatic gesture, recorded Byrne's weight without a word. 'Now, if you could turn around, we'll check your height.'
Byrne spun around. Viv stepped on a footstool, raised the bar of the stadiometer, then lowered it gently, touching the top of Byrne's head. 'What about height?' she asked. 'Would you like to know how tall you are?'
'I think I can handle my height. Emotionally speaking.'
'You're still six foot, three inches.'
'Good,' Byrne said. 'So I haven't shrunk.'
'Nope. You must be washing in cold water.'
Byrne smiled. He liked Viv, despite her vim.
'Come this way,' she said.
In the small, windowless examining room Byrne cruised the two battered magazines, picking up a dozen new 30-minute chicken recipes, along with some tips on how to get puppy stains out of the upholstery.
A few minutes later the doctor came in. She was Asian, about thirty, quite attractive. Pinned to her lab coat was a photo ID. Her name was Michelle Chu.
They got the pleasantries about the weather and the insanity of the people in the indoor parking garage out of the way. Dr. Chu ran through Byrne's history on the computer's LCD monitor. When she had him sufficiently pegged, she turned in her chair, crossed her legs.
'So, how long have you had insomnia?'
'Let me put it this way,' Byrne said. 'It's been so long that I can't remember.'
'Do you have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep?'
'Both.'
'How long, on average, does it take you to fall asleep?'
All night, Byrne thought. But he knew what she meant. 'Maybe an hour.'
'Do you wake up during the night?'
'Yeah. At least a couple of times.'
The doctor made a few more notes, her fingers racing across the keyboard. 'Do you snore?'
Byrne knew the answer to this. He just didn't want to tell her how he knew. 'Well, these days I don't really have a steady…'
'Bed partner?'
'Yeah,' Byrne said. 'That. Do you think you could write me a prescription for one of those?'
She laughed. 'I could, but I don't think your insurance provider would cover it.'
'You're probably right,' Byrne said. 'I can barely get them to pay for the Ambien.'
Ambien. The magic drug, the magic word. At least around neurologists. He had her attention now.
'How long have you been taking Ambien?'
'On and off for as long as I can remember.'
'Do you think you've developed a dependence?'
'Without question.'
Dr. Chu handed him a pre-printed sheet. 'These are some of the sleep-hygiene suggestions we have-'
Byrne held up a hand. 'May I?'
'Absolutely.'
'No alcohol, caffeine, or high-fat foods late at night. No nicotine. Exercise regularly, but not within four hours of bedtime. Go to bed and get out of bed at the same times every day. Turn your alarm clock around so you can't see the time. Keep your bedroom cool, not cold. If you can't fall asleep in ten minutes or so, get out of bed until you feel tired again. Although, if you can't see your clock, I don't know how you're supposed to know it's been ten minutes.'
Dr. Chu stared at him for a few moments. She had stopped typing altogether. 'You seem to know quite a bit about this.'
Byrne shrugged. 'You do something long enough.'
She then typed for a full minute. Byrne just watched. When she was done she said, 'Okay. Hop up on the table, please.'
Byrne stood up, walked over to the paper-lined examining table, slid onto it. He hadn't hopped anywhere in years, if ever. Dr. Chu looked into his eyes, ears, nose, throat. She listened to his heart, lungs. Then she took out a tape measure, measured his neck.
'Hmm,' she said.
Never a good sign. 'I prefer a spread collar,' Byrne said. 'French cuffs.'
'Your neck's circumference is greater than seventeen inches.'
'I work out.'
She sat down, put her stethoscope around her neck. Her face took on a concerned look. Not the you are in deep shit look, but concerned. 'You have a few markers for sleep apnea.'
Byrne had heard of it, but he really didn't know anything about it. The doctor explained that apnea was a condition wherein a person stops breathing during the night.
'I stop breathing?'
'Well, we don't know that for sure yet.'
'I'm kind of in the stop-breathing business, you know.'
The doctor smiled. 'This is a little different. I think I should schedule you for a sleep study.' She handed him a brochure. Color pics of smiling, healthy people who looked like they got a lot of sleep.
'Okay.'
