When my husband and I married over thirty years ago, I will admit that we had already spent a few nights together.
If that shocks anyone out there, please remember that it was the 70′s.
My point is, I should have known what the future held.
But I was in love. I was young. I thought that love conquered all. Maybe it does conquer a lot of things.
But not snoring.
To say that my husband snores is an understatement of major proportions. His snoring can be heard throughout the house. Our dog, if caught off-guard, will bark and growl if he hears the snoring on another level of the house. I have been awakened many times by the sound of a freight train going through our bedroom. My husband never heard it. Of course, not hearing it, he didn’t believe it-he didn’t snore, I was exaggerating.
However, it soon changed to something more serious. He would not only snore, but would actually stop breathing several times during the night. He would stop breathing, gasping for breath, that I would awaken and shove him in the ribs with my elbow to start him up again. It would happen whether he was lying on his back or side. He still thought I was making something out of nothing….just a macho thing-men snore, and the louder they snore, the more manly.
Finally, I made him read about the symptoms of sleep apnea. After reading about it, he admitted that he had come close to falling asleep while waiting for traffic lights to change, hadn’t been able to read even short articles due to falling asleep, and he had always napped whenever possible. He began to realize it was serious when the possible consequences included death.
He finally went to have a sleep study. They ended it early, as he had already stopped breathing many more times than normal. He was prescribed a CPAP machine.
We entered a new era of our lives.
If you have never seen one, these machines are a toaster-sized machine which sits to the side of the bed. There are straps which go over and around my husband’s (bald) head. Because he has a beard, there are two small plastic nozzles which are inserted into his nostrils. He is tethered to the machined by a flexible tube.
It would never be described as a sex toy.
This machine pumps air into him constantly. It sounds as though I am sleeping with Darth Vader: “Luke, (whoosh! whoosh!) I am (whoosh! swoosh!) your father (swoosh! whoosh!)” Maybe some women would love to sleep with Darth. Not me. (I actually preferred Harrison Ford)
To add to the unpleasantness, there is a small hole which blows air directly into my face all night. There are romance novels which describe a man blowing into a woman’s ear as a prelude to a romantic encounter. Believe me when I tell you, this is not romantic. It is more like sleeping in a wind tunnel.
He has been obsessive about using the machine. It truly has made a difference in his life. He rarely naps. He has not reported falling asleep while waiting at an intersection. He has much more energy. He can tell that it has helped him.
He is much less cranky (than me).
But someday, I’d like to compare notes with Darth’s wife.