Tags

, ,

snoring.jpg My husband snores. A lot. I’m not sure how many years he has been practicing already, but he is a master of snoring art by now, Snoring M.A with honors. If they gave away belts in snoring as they do in martial arts he would get a “jackhammer belt”, which would be the black belt of snoring.
If there were such thing as a snoring orchestra they would give him a permanent contract for the first violin without an audition. Or, if snoring was a useful skill he would get us filthy rich by giving seminars on “Five snoring themes to make your bed vibrate (for beginners)”, “Five snoring themes to make your neighbors’ bed vibrate (advanced level)” and “Walls penetrating snoring technics (all levels)”.
I read somewhere that snoring is a very old mechanism of a human body, from the times when a human body still used to sleep in a cage, so that the noise of snoring used to keep the animals away at night. The brain of the “snorer” doesn’t get disturbed by the noise, because the brain never gets disturbed by the noises produced by its “owner” in general. Well, this is very little comfort for the neighbor brain lying next to the source of snoring, although not in a cage, still trying to sleep, but instead going crazy despite of the professional waterproof silicon earplugs for divers in both ears. Besides, how stupid is the brain actually not to realize it’s not a cave anymore and the only animal around is that spider on the wall that is probably deaf anyway.
Some time ago, when we (and by “we” I mean “me”) still had some hope that there is a way to treat it (ha-ha), my husband went to the doctor and told him that his wife can’t sleep because of his snoring. The good man’s first reaction was, “So why are you here? It’s your wife’s problem!” But I guess my husband was able to explain very clear using vivid images how his wife’s problem can very soon become his (husband’s) own problem, or even his (doctor’s) problem, especially if the wife won’t be getting any sleep for much longer. So at the end the doctor gave my husband a strange looking device to take home to record his snoring for the “purposes of further analysis, precise diagnosis and treatment”.
We hooked this thing up to my husband, and he then provided snoring data of different frequency, tempo and amplitude the same night (I would know, I was there) for the doc to knock himself out. We gave the device back and couple of weeks later we got a paper with the diagnosis. We opened the latter anticipating to finally find out how to make the snoring go away so I can finally sleep peacefully in my own bed. The paper literary said the following: “Diagnosis: primary snoring”. At first we thought it was some kind of a joke, but there was no smilie at the end of the line, nor at the back of the paper for that matter (I checked). Primary snoring, who could have thought. I don’t have a doctor’s diploma, so I might be wrong, but I think they were not listening carefully to the snoring tape. It was not primary snoring, it was snoring deluxe!
So we gave up on trying to solve this problem by official means. Now my only chance to sleep in the big cozy bed is to fall asleep before my husband does, and this is not at all easy, even if planed carefully in advance. Because snoring, especially primary snoring comes unexpectedly, catching its victim (and in this case victim is not the one snoring) completely off guard. He can be watching his favorite series in bed one minute, looking fresh, so I think I still have at least 5 minutes to prepare for bed. So I go to the bathroom for just one minute and when I return I can take my things and go straight to the living room, because it’s snoring time. Once I even caught him snoring with his eyes opened while we were watching a movie. I think he is secretly doing his snoring PhD now.
Also, sometimes when I already had to go to sleep on the couch in the living room I would wake up at night for a glass of water and there would be an unusual silence in the apartment. So I would think it’s safe to come back to the bedroom and take my things back looking forward to a relaxing night on a proper mattress. But as soon as my head would touch the pillow the snoring would start again. I suspect in these moments he is actually spelling “Gotch ya!” in the secret snoring-morse code.
But it also happens that I would wake up in the middle of the night next to my husband and wouldn’t hear any snoring I would carefully put my hand on his back to see if he is all right and still breathing fine. I guess snoring makes me feel safe, although sleepless, in my “cave” after all. I just wish it would be at least “secondary snoring light”.
P.S. And yes, I wrote this post in the middle of the night, because I couldn’t sleep while my husband was snoring.
Advertisements