One person
Mr Bob's story.
His sleep study came back at 120 apneas an hour. Mr Bob — not his real name, but the one who started all this
Mr Bob was carrying a lot of weight, depressed, and getting by — barely. A hundred and twenty apneas an hour means his breathing stopped and restarted twice a minute, every minute, all night, for years. That isn't poor sleep. It's a body that never gets to rest and a brain that never gets a full night's oxygen.
He had the diagnosis. What he didn't have was the money — and what happened next is why this exists. He was sent from pillar to post, clinic to supplier and back, chasing funding nobody would own. Every call was a referral to someone else's desk. He was too tired to fight it, which is exactly what 120 apneas an hour does to a person.
And the waiting isn't neutral. His health declined. The depression deepened and the anxiety came with it. Every month spent chasing a form was another month running on no sleep at all. The state program exists and it helps people, but it moves at the speed a government program moves, and with an untreated load like his what was on the horizon wasn't another rough night — it was a stroke.
Short version: a partnership came together — us and a registered sleep clinic and supplier willing to do the refurbishing properly — and a clean machine went home with him. Not next quarter. Not after one more form. All Mr Bob had to buy was a mask.
He got his licence back. After a couple of false starts, he's in full-time work. With Mr Bob you could watch it happen month by month — the weight of the thing lifting and the bloke underneath it turning back up.
Use the proper channels; they're worth using. But when someone is going backwards while they wait, a second-hand machine tested and cleaned this week beats a new one that arrives next year.
Mr Bob is why this exists. Not a mission statement — one bloke, one machine, and the distance between them.