Animal in the House?
Perhaps it’s just as well that I live in the country: it’s been said that I snore like a wild animal.
My sympathies if this sounds familiar.
My buddy picked me up at 5:30 a.m. on the day in 2004 when we left on our epic trip to fantabulous Glacier National Park in Montana.
We did lunch in the Badlands of South Dakota. Did dinner in the Black Hills. And attended the stirring nighttime program at Mount Rushmore. If you haven’t seen that, man, you’ve gotta.
But by now I’ve been up for about 17 hours. And we’ve still got to drive an hour through the twisting, turning Black Hills to our hotel in Sturgis.
I am all but passed out, leaning forward, held up by my seatbelt.
We must have made it to our beds. Because the next thing I know my buddy has icked on the light and is pacing around the hotel room.
“Wha-?” says I.
“You’re snoring like a wild animal!” says Tom, who was considering relocating to his vehicle. “Oh, man. You’ve GOT to get that checked out!”
Back home, with some strong coaxing, I decided to see just how bad it was by visiting a sleep clinic.
It was bad.
They hook you up to monitors and put so many doo-dads on your head, you can barely hold it up.
You sleep half the night without a C-Pap mask, the rest with it on. With the mask, air is pumped into your nose from a machine to keep your breathing passages open (it’s not as bad as it sounds).
The sleep doctor smiled as he showed me my results: minus the mask, I was waking up (stopped from reaching deep sleep) an average of 60 times per hour. With the mask, it was smooth sailing into precious deep sleep.
So, I have sleep apnea, along with about 22 million other folks in this great country. A scary deal if you don’t get help. You could die.
I had a recent bout of forgetfulness and had to sleep without the mask, which was elsewhere.
Struggled mightily. Woke myself up snoring. Got virtually no sleep. No wonder the cats were gone when I woke up. And probably the woodland creatures ed in a panic, thinking some gigantic monster was coming to eat them up.
Thank gosh for C-Pap technology.
Does this otherworldly sound remind you of a loved one? Or maybe yourself ?
Would love to hear your tales of spectacular snoring, funny and otherwise. They’d make a good feature story, and maybe help others who don’t even know they su er from sleep apnea.
Write to us at Dodge County Independent, 121 W. Main St., Kasson, Minn., 55944. Or better yet, stop by and we can swap horror stories.
Thanks for reading, folks. Happy snoozing!