I’m laying in my chair petting Sheba’s belly. Suddenly, I hear a sound that throws me into an oft repeated childhood memory listening to my grandparents snore. We didn’t have sleep apnea back then or CPAPs. We just had middle of the night, ear splitting noise we had to tolerate. The house wasn’t that big. Our options were limited.
My grandparents had a beach house on Vashon Island. It was a wonderful place and a respite from my lunatic parents. It had a huge fireplace to heat the one bedroom cabin. My brother and I slept on a fold out sofa by the fireplace in the living room.
We had a bedtime ritual. My Grandpa laid on his stomach in bed and we would take turns scratching his back. He would make grateful noises. Granny came to bed and read before turning out the lights. There was a thin wooden accordion bedroom door.
I went to sleep watching the reflection of the flames flickering on the ceiling. It wasn’t long before the roaring began emanating from my grandparents’ bedroom. They both snored all night. I marveled at the noise but quickly fell asleep. I would wake up in the middle of the night, look at the orange fireplace coals, and listen to the incredibly loud but reassuring sound of my grandparents sleeping. It never stopped or changed. It was a steady swelling like ocean waves.
I remember traveling with them at 15 staying in a hotel room with two double beds. Me in one. Them in the other. In the middle of the night, I woke up to the noise and could not get back to sleep. I got out of bed and stared down at them trying to figure out a way to stop the relentless noise. I hated to disturb them but I couldn’t sleep. I reached out and touched Granny, “Granny, I can’t sleep from the snoring.”
“What? What? Oh, Joe, stop snoring,” she would say to Grandpa. They would settle down for a few minutes. My job was to jump back in bed and fall asleep before they launched into full swing again. It could take several tries. I loved them but wished a second room was an option.
Enter my adult life. After sleeping with Ronnie for a bit, she would wake me up and say in a commanding voice, “Roll over.”
I would get up and go to the bathroom and grumble to myself, “Why does she get to wake me up in the middle of the night and order me around?” During the night, my powers of deduction are impaired.
After awhile, I remembered to ask her the next day why she was telling me what to do in the middle of the night. “Because you are snoring. I’m telling you to roll over.”
“Oh... I see. Well, I can’t remember why you are telling me to roll over in the middle of the night.”
“And, that’s my problem?”
“Well, could you say, ‘Snoring. Roll over?’ That way I can remember why you are telling me what to do in the middle of the night.”
“I can do that.”
“Thanks.”
And, that’s how we slept. She’d wake me up and say, “Snoring. Roll over.” I’d roll over on my side. From my perspective, problem solved for nearly twenty years. Then, the specter of sleep apnea reared its ugly head.
When sleep apnea was a new concept to me, it was hard to wrap my brain around it and why it mattered. Of course, I didn’t want one of those CPAP machines with the hose and what not. Finally, I got tested. I naturally had sleep apnea and was awarded a CPAP machine. Within a few weeks my chronic migraines stopped. But, the CPAP and I never saw eye to eye. I would take it off in my sleep and awake to, “Snoring. Roll over.”
In time, Ronnie decided that if I wasn’t going to use it she would try it. She liked it. When we went to bed, I always postponed putting the mask on. Ronnie said, “If you’re not going to use it, could I use it for awhile?” I was only too happy to hand it over.
When we went to France to visit our daughter, they both said I had to bring it. It was Ronnie that used it. I thought this was a great idea. She felt better using it. I used it a few hours some nights. At last, Ronnie went to our doctor and asked if there was a hose splitter for a CPAP machine. After our doctor stopped laughing, she had Ronnie tested. Now, we were a couple with two CPAPs…only one of which was used regularly.
After more years of my trying to use the mask, I was unable to breathe with it. I knew it was a mental problem but that didn’t help. I tried various mask styles. I got an updated machine. I couldn’t get beyond being unable to breathe. I knew air was going in but I felt it was cut off. I could feel the air with my fingers. But, with the mask on my face, I couldn’t breathe.
After seven years with this incompetent use of the CPAP, my dentist, Ron, got in on the act. He told me that if I wanted to live beyond middle age I had to deal with my sleep apnea. Ron also had sleep apnea and was committed to addressing it as he wanted to see his sons grow up. The good news was that he couldn’t deal with a CPAP either but as a dentist had found a jaw repositioning device or mandibular advancement device (MAD). The MAD fits in my mouth similar to a mouth guard used in sports but pushes my lower jaw forward allowing my airway to expand. Overall, I looked like a bull dog.
The downside of this device is expense. However, Ron really wanted me to help me with this serious health concern so I would be around longer. He is a great person and let me keep a balance that I could slowly pay off to assist in taking the financial plunge.
Ron had sufficiently caused alarm about my sleep apnea. I was pretty nervous and afraid when I got the MAD thing. If this didn’t work, I was screwed. I put it in my mouth but didn’t look in the mirror so I wouldn’t get freaked out with the look of my jaw thrust forward.
It wasn’t hard to get used to and an astonishing thing happened. My sleep began to be more refreshing. I felt better. After a few weeks, my emotional state perked up so much that the folks at the dentist’s office noticed I was happier (and I assume more pleasant). After a few more weeks, I noticed I had increased access to my brain and ability to retain information. That was the more concrete result for me.
Of course, Ronnie wanted to try this MAD thing. She wanted to have the option of not being hooked up to a machine either. A bit later, she ordered one which added another chunk to our dental bill. We are definitely contributing to Ron’s children's college fund.
We are a double MAD device family now. The CPAPs are put away. I gave my extra one to a friend who didn’t have health insurance. I have more access to my thinking processes. Ronnie is relieved that camping and power outages are no longer a concern.
And now, here I sit listening to my beloved dog snoring. It is a familiar, comforting sound as long as it is not as loud as a freight train coming through the house in the middle of the night. As far as I know, Sheba doesn’t need a CPAP or a MAD device. She just gets to quietly snore as an indication of a very sound sleep. Every morning, she awakes refreshed and ready to go with full possession of her mental faculties. As a non-morning person, I wish I could say the same.
L’Chaim.
Joceile
9.14.19
[Picture of a sleeping dog.]
