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Bad
night, busy day, turkey for supper. Lots of it. So you know what I did. I stretched
out to "read." Oh, I knew what was going to happen, but I did it anyway. I figured
I would read for real for ten or fifteen minutes and then doze for an hour and
then get up for a couple of hours and then go to bed for real. But my anticipated
hour long nap turned out to be three and half hours long. I slept long enough
to have a whole big dream (and if dreams really do come true I will be buying
a gigantic log cabin and renting out rooms soon. Check the classifieds. Even my
dream life is boring!).
I slept so long that it got dark while I slept.
When I woke up I thought it was morning and stumbled out to make coffee. At first
I couldn’t figure out why everybody was up, watching tv and eating ice cream.
I’m usually the only one in the house that likes ice cream for breakfast. Then
I realized. It was still yesterday. I turned right around, eyes at half mast,
and hurried back to bed. But it was too late. I was awake. Am awake. Will be awake.
Until tomorrow when I will be very, very sleepy all day long.
I blame
the snoring. If it wasn’t for the hellacious snoring all night every night, I
wouldn’t need a nap. Oh no, folks. I will not tell a lie. It’s not Long Suffering
Husband keeping me up nights. Quite the opposite. He has a dainty, girlish little
wheeze now and then. Snuffles delicately sometimes. For a great big ol’ Oklahoma
boy he sleeps surprisingly like a Disney Princess.
It is me that sounds
like an Ice Road Truck trying to make the grade in first gear. All night every
night. And it’s wearing me down. And I’m a nurse. So you know I’m thinking sleep
study. And CPAP. And the problem with that is that while I joke around a lot about
being a little old lady, I am not one. Not quite yet. So after I have snorted
myself awake for the 10,000th time each night I try to sort the whole thing out
in my mind.
I imagine going to the doctor secretly. Inventing some emergency
with mother or sister that will keep me away for a night. Then sneaking the machine
into the house, hiding it under the bed, waiting patiently for Long Suffering
to fall asleep each night and then hooking myself up. Because while I occasionally
go long stretches without shaving my legs and sleep in XXL t-shirts and boxers
I have not given up my romantic notions entirely. I still brush my teeth every
night and hope for the best. I will admit that bristly legs are not all that attractive,
but how much less attractive is the CPAP going to be? "Gum on baby (whooooo) gib
us a giss!" As it stands, Long Suffering can just pretend I’m French and ignore
the fuzz, but how’s he going to react to snuggling in with Darth Vader? Welcome
to the Dark Side, bay-bee!
It’s a conundrum. Go to bed looking like Barbar
the Elephant or continue on the way things are risking exhaustion (his and mine)
and heart disease and who knows what else. A tragic and untimely death versus
yet another blow to my poor abused vanity. Double edged sword, idinnit? Don’t
think for a minute that I’m just being a typical nurse and jumping straight to
the brain surgery conclusion when what is needed is an aspirin. I have tried every
snore remedy known to man. I have slept flat and slept on a pile of pillows so
high I worried about nose bleeds and altitude sickness. I have tried strips and
sprays and pills and drops and this little V shaped bending thing that’s supposed
to hold your nostrils open. I bought a very pricey mouth piece. It was wonderful.
When I put it in I had an airway the size of the Holland Tunnel. Bliss! It had
advantages and disadvantages. The major drawback was that it made my jaw ache
and so the minute I fell asleep I would take it out and throw it across the room.
Why I couldn’t fall asleep, take it out and keep it in my hand, or drop it on
the night stand or something, I don’t know. But I threw it every time. Hard. Evidently
you don’t mess with my jaw and get away with it. -
The other thing was
that I couldn’t talk in it or kiss in it. So my family got TONS of entertainment
asking me question after question after question and wanting just one more kiss
good night, so that I would have to try to surreptitiously plop the thing out
into my cupped hand, make nice for a minute, wait for them to go away, jam it
back in, and then there they’d be again asking something else. Very funny. I have
told you before they can be cruel.
So, it’s worrisome. As it turns out,
though, I will have plenty of time to think about it tonight. Hours and hours
and hours and hours. That’s the downside. The upside is there’s a brand new half
gallon of ice cream in the freezer. And I know where we keep the spoons.
© Elizabeth
Bussey Sowdal
"The
Girl Detective's Theory of Everything"
July 2, 2009 Column
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