When altitude sickness strikes on a visit to Vail, a trip to a hyperbaric chamber eases the headache and calms the spirit.
By BILL HIRSCH
Published October 12, 2003
[Photo: Yvette Cardozo]
Dr. David Gray zips author Bill Hirsch into the chamber. Goggles add an accompanying light show while inside.
VAIL, Colo. - I had come to Vail to ski. But, as I dragged my skis off the baggage carousel at the airport, I had the beginnings of The Headache from Hell.
By the time we checked in to our hotel, my head was throbbing. I popped a couple of Tylenol and we went out for a light dinner.
Back in our room, my headache got worse. And my stomach had joined the torment. I couldn't sleep and spent most of the night in the bathroom.
With morning came the realization that this was definitely the worst headache I'd had, by far, and my stomach problems were almost as bad. It was time to call the front desk and ask about a doctor.
"Does he need to go to the emergency room?" asked the desk clerk.
"No."
"Then we have a doctor on call. We'll get him there as quickly as possible."
Within a half hour, two doctors stood at my bedside. With them was a portable oxygen tank. Doctors David Denton Davis and David Gray (the Two Doctor Davids, I called them) asked me:
"Have you been drinking plenty of water?"
"Yes."
"Any alcoholic beverages?"
"No."
"Ever had altitude sickness before?"
"No." Well, maybe, the year before - but nowhere near as bad as this.
Over my face went the oxygen mask, and Dr. David One asked, "on a scale of 10 to one, with 10 being worst, how bad is your headache?"
Nine. A few breaths of oxygen later, seven. After a few minutes, five.
"You have acute mountain sickness, AMS," announced Dr. David One. "It hits about a quarter of the people who come here."
He listed the symptoms: headache, pounding heart, nausea, diarrhea, vomiting and chest pains. It's actually the least severe of the three altitude sicknesses.
Interestingly, the most susceptible folk are not couch potatoes. Whether you come down with altitude sickness depends on three factors: the elevation, your rate of ascent and then, individual factors.
Most people compensate for the lack of oxygen at higher altitudes by breathing faster. But the Colorado Altitude Research Institute in Keystone, Colo., reports that some people's "brains just don't sense the decrease in oxygen and, thus, they just don't acclimatize" by telling the lungs to breathe faster.
Young, fit men seem to be the worst at this, while sedentary, middle-aged women seem least likely to develop this form of altitude sickness, my two doctors said.
"The cure," Dr. David One added, "is to get back down to sea level, where more oxygen can get into your blood stream. But, since you probably don't fancy a quick return trip to Seattle, we're going to give you a ride in our hyperbaric chamber."
I expected to get into a car for the drive to the nearest hospital. Instead, the doctors escorted me out of the back of the hotel and we walked just a few yards to the Vail Mountain Adventure Center. Under the stairway on the lower floor was what looked like a cross between a sleeping bag and a tent.
"We've got two of these chambers here," said Dr. David Two, "plus a smaller one in the trunk of our car that we can set up in a patient's room" if they have to drive some distance to treat the patient. "The original chamber was foot-pump powered, designed for use on Everest expeditions."
Davis handed me a walkie-talkie that had a built-in altimeter and vibrated when a call was coming in.
The Two Dr. Davids helped me into the chamber, gave me a vibrating massage pillow for my neck, a sound generator with earphones that offered a choice of babbling brook, ocean swells, a waterfall or country sounds complete with crowing rooster, and a pair of goggles that provided their own light show. Dr. David Two instructed me to equalize pressure just as in scuba diving - by pinching my nostrils and blowing, wiggling my jaw and by yawning - and to let them know immediately if I had pain in my ears.
With that, they zipped me in the chamber and turned on its pump. I lay back on my vibrating pillow, clutched my vibrating walkie-talkie, tuned in the babbling brook. . . . The doctors kept in constant contact by walkie-talkie, and Dr. David Two often peered in the small vinyl window over my head for a hand signal that I was okay.
I watched the altimeter on the walkie-talkie slowly drop from Vail's 8,400 feet altitude. Before long, I was back home, at 1,000 feet, and then down to sea level, where I remained for 45 minutes.
During all this, the chamber was drawing a lot of curious onlookers who peered through the window at me. One wanted to know if it felt claustrophobic; no, just nice and cozy.
As I was drifting off to sleep, it was time to climb back up to Vail, which was accomplished by opening a valve on the chamber to equalize the pressure inside and out. Finally Dr. David Two leaned and pushed on the chamber's fabric walls.
The zipper was opened and I climbed out, a little woozy but with no headache.
Next morning, I was off to the slopes.
Bill Hirsch is a freelance writer living in Issaquah, Wash.
If you go
You don't have to be sick to have a session in Vail's under-the-stairs hyperbaric chamber.
"Some people just schedule a session for prevention. They might have a bit of a headache and they don't want it to progress any further," said Dr. David Denton Davis. "Heck, some folks just do it as a pick-me-up."
And you don't need a doctor's prescription, which explains the intriguing original location for the chamber in a Vail sports shop. The chambers are now located at Mountain Lodge Spa in the center of Vail. Trained attendants operate the equipment if doctors are not attending a patient.
A one-hour session is $200 in the fixed-location chambers, but you can have a portable chamber brought to your hotel room for $250.
For 90 percent of people with "mountain sickness," one treatment is usually enough to eliminate all symptoms for the duration of their stay at the higher elevation.
Among the steps you can take to ward off the illness:
Drink three to four quarts of water a day. Stay away from alcoholic beverages, which tend to depress your breathing and, thus, hold up acclimatization. Take it easy your first day "at altitude." If you know you are susceptible, get a prescription for Diamox. FOR MORE INFORMATION: Call Dr. David Denton Davis at Rocky Mountain Mobile Physicians, (970) 390-7878 or (970) 389-3553.
