[personal] To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there’s the rub

Most of my life I have been a champion sleeper. Even these days, given the various medications and the healing efforts of my body in decay, I most nights sleep well and deeply.

In my time, I have slept in bathtubs. I have slept on the bare metal of a pick-up bed. I have slept on dirt. I have slept in cars, buses, trains, boats, ships and airplanes. I have slept through parties and all manner of racket. I have slept through earthquakes. I have slept through a Category 3 hurricane on the Texas Gulf Coast and I don’t know how many Pacific typhoons. I have slept through a four-alarm fire in my own college dorm building.

Last night, I could not sleep through Lisa Costello‘s snoring. It was the loudest sound I have ever heard a sleeping human being make. And I am a man who raised a super-powered toddler. I could not even by dint of noble effort imitate or reproduce this sound. If normal snoring can be likened to sawing wood, this was Godzilla tearing apart the lumberyard and being pissed about the splinters.

The thunderous racket entered my dreams twice before fully waking me, at which point I lay in the dark, amazed. All it took to calm the Stentorian flood of sound was a gentle poke. She shifted, snuffled once or twice, and continued to sleep.

I only wish I’d though to fire up the decibel meter on my iPhone.

P.S. – Yes, I have Lisa’s permission to make this post and publicly discuss her sonic shame.

5 thoughts on “[personal] To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there’s the rub

  1. Rita says:

    I see you lisarumbles and raise you scottish battlesnores. Scott’s managed to keep people awake several campsites away. (And I’m now searching for a decible meter app)

  2. Albatross says:

    Lisa might need to get a sleep study and a prescription for a sleep mask. Listen to her while she’s sleeping: if the frequency of her snores increases until she gasps and then restarts the cycle, she may have sleep apnea. This will leave her with inadequate sleep which has all sort of ramifications, from grumpiness to illness to depression.

    1. Terry says:

      I second the advice about a diagnosis, but I have a “sleep mask” and I have come to believe that the whole CPAP industry is something of a scam. At the very least, you need to know that when you decide to augment your breathing, once you have become accustomed to using it to sleep, you are on the hook. It is one of the most difficult dependencies in the WORLD to rid yourself of. There ARE other options and it infuriates me that the medical world pretty much ignores all of them and sends you right to the CPAP company. Explore ALL options before putting on that mask.

      My opinion, fwiw.

      1. Linda D. says:

        I found the CPAP machine woke me up more than any apnea (mine is borderline), and I gave it back.

  3. Stacia says:

    Not to be an automatic gainsayer but contrary to Terry’s opinion, I found my CPAP to be wonderful. Literally saved my life, though not entirely my brain; I’ve had central sleep apnea since I was 7 or so, diagnosed when 12 but ignored through various quackeries and bad parenting, then it took until my mid 30s to find a GP willing to even discuss it (and only because I was fat by then, and “only fat people get sleep apnea,” ha ha, it is to laugh). I have some mild but permanent brain damage from all those years of untreated sleep apnea, and my CPAP, “scam” though it may be, has kept me from getting worse.

    That said, a singular snoring event shouldn’t lead to an immediate sleep test. Some apnea/hypopnea is normal, first of all, and it sounds like Lisa’s snoring was positional. My husband has the same, especially when he has a cold or acid reflux. Flat on his back and he is a champeen snorer, lauded in the tri-county area for his resonance of tone.

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