There are some things one should never do. Don't drive drunk. Don't go to bed angry. Don't shop when you're hungry. Well, this may be another one: Don't blog when you're tired. Let's see what happens if I do.
Because I got no sleep last night. None. Zero. Okay, maybe 20 minutes here and there, but no rest. I finally gave up at 5:30 and got out of bed, but I can't say I woke up, because I never really fell asleep in the first place.
Do I have a lot on my mind? No, not really. Too much sugar or caffeine during the day? Not at all.
So far my posts have been mostly about my mom and me. Apart from an occasional mention, I have allowed my husband to stay in the background. But sometimes he is a key player in my day, especially late at night. Minds out of the gutter, people! No, the problem is that my husband snores. And when he's tired, he really snores. In fact, the word "snore" just doesn't begin to describe it. I know that some of you girls can relate, but for those who have never experienced it -- and for me, since I just have to get it out -- here's what it's like.
It starts off slow, little snuffles. "Aww, he's really tired, poor thing," I used to think. If it were just this little rhythmic purr, I could sleep through it. But the sound never stays little. Not ever. It gets bigger, breath by breath, as he falls deeper into sleep. Soon he's snorting. Snarking. Honking. Like. A. Goose. A big one.
I can make it stop sometimes if I nudge just right, or turn him over. A well placed elbow can do the trick. But sometimes not.
Sometimes there's more. As the night wears on, the apnea sets in. The snoring gets louder, more forceful. Just about the time I want to wake him up, it magically stops. "Ahh, relief!," I used to think. Wrong! He's holding his breath. Or rather, somehow he's just not breathing. His chest continues to rise and falls, but the muscles are in spasm. No air goes in or out. This can go on for a minute or more. Then all of a sudden the body screams "AIR! I NEED AIR!" There's a sound like a snort, a gargle, a great, desperate, sucking inhalation, and he's breathing again. Then the snoring begins again, and the cycle repeats itself.
Sometimes there's kicking and jerking. Once or twice he's landed a heel to my shin and left a bruise. So when the movement begins, I'm awake and vigilant.
And sometimes there's the great gnashing of teeth. The snoring stops, and the grinding begins. The sound is something like fingernails on a blackboard, rhythmic and hard. Each chew is stronger than the last, til the jaws lock together and he holds his breath again. Nudging does nothing to break this cycle. Nothing works but to press my finger at the joint of his jaw. Of course, I have to be awake to do this.
By 5 or 6 o'clock the battle is usually over. He sleeps as peacefully as a baby. Just in time for me to get up and start my day.
Lately I've resorted to wearing earplugs. 34 decibel models. All I hear on a good night is the ringing in my own ears. But some nights -- last night -- the snoring bores right through. I may not be able to hear him speak. I can't hear my own alarm sometimes. But if Ed's really tired, I can hear that snoring.
So Ed, God bless you, I'm sorry, but I just have to "out" you here in public. After all, this is my blog, and sometimes I've just got to write it out. I love you, but some nights all I want is a room of my own.
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