First they assign you to a changing room, separated by a curtain from the room with the chambers. On a chair sits a towel and on the towel sit a set of blue hospital pants and shirt. There are lockers to put your clothes and belongings in. I never bother locking it.
My chamber is chamber two, right in the middle. To the left is a large man who always gets there before me. The person in the right hand chamber varies; I guess not everyone needs daily treatment. You lie on a padded slab on a cart while they check your vitals. They check your blood sugar if you’re diabetic; most people are, and the procedure can lead to lowering your glucose levels. It’s reasonably comfortable. They check your ears to make sure they’re not dangerously inflamed. They slip an elastic band around your wrist. Attached to the band is a curling cord. You press a big silver button on a black box, and if the green light goes on, you’re properly grounded. If it’s red, they make an adjustment.
They ask if you have any jewelry or metal on you, if you have any devices implanted in your body, if you have any keys in your pocket, if you’re wearing underwear, if you put on any cologne or aftershave or deodorant that morning.
They take off your socks and place heavy blankets on you. It gets chilly in there; the whole room is cold. They give you a urinal (for luck, they say), a bottle of water if you want it, and an inflatable mask with a hose coming out of it
They slide you into the chamber and pull the cart away and close the hatch. It’s a lot like being in one of those cryogenic pods you see in sci-fi movies. The acrylic is very thick, and distorts the view of the outside world. It’s essentially a plastic tube. You can move around if you want but there’s not a lot of room. They put on a movie if you asked for one- they have an extensive collection of mainstream garbage, all of it donated. You can bring a video from home as long as it’s not porn (I asked).
This week I’ve been watching all the Godfather movies. I’ve seen them before –all except the third one, which I could never get through. I’m struck by how ugly they are, how unpleasant every single character is. The acting is mostly great and the films are beautifully crafted but I can’t get over how pulpy they are, punctuated with cartoony violence. I understand why guys love them; they’re highly entertaining, and exercise a real masculine power. But halfway through part 2 I realize I hate them. I’m determined to get through them all though, I’m not sure why.
The oxygen pumps in with a loud humming sound. My ears hurt immediately every time so I knock on the glass and they slow the pressurization down until I get used to it.
Halfway through the procedure, the tech will pantomime that you should put the mask on. The mask pumps in regular air for ten minutes to give your brain a break from all the pure oxygen.
In looking up information about the dangers of these devices, I come across the headline, “Explosion of hyperbaric chamber kills woman, horse.” Of course it took place in Florida. Apparently the horse was inside, being treated for equine protozoal myeloencephalitis, a disease they catch from eating opossum feces. (I am fully aware of how batshit that sentence is. Feel free to do some research.) The horse kicked off a protective lid in the chamber, and its horseshoes sparked and created the explosion.
After two hours the tech starts decreasing the pressure. You get what they call “Rice Krispies ears” as they crackle and pop. They open the hatch and slide you out. “What year is it?” I sometimes joke. “Did I survive the apocalypse?” They’ve heard it all before but they humor me. They check your vitals and your blood sugar and your ears, and you can ease yourself off the slab and go behind the curtain to change. I’m always a little disoriented when I leave the office. I wonder if this will affect my dreams. A glass coffin shot into outer space, or sinking to the bottom of the sea. Flaming horse heads lobbed into my bed.
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