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Snoring Serenades

There are some women who claim that the rhythmic sound of their husband's snoring is like music to their ears. They say it's comforting to lay beside their mate, listening to the flowing sound, an assuring, vocal reminder that all is well. I am not one of those women.

I like to think of Bill and I as soul mates, a perfectly contented married couple except, of course, for one thing. Bill can wake the dead with his snoring. Imagine an earthquake at 8.5 on the Richter scale, and you've pretty much got the idea.

When we first got married I would lie awake to the sounds of a buzz saw going off in my ear. I would try to be patient as I tried, through clenched teeth, to imagine this as music to my ears.
But, two minutes into this imagery I'd go straight for the nose, as in grabbing his as tight as I could. This would, naturally, turn my mild mannered husband into a maniac. I soon learned a wife could get hurt doing that, or at the very least, pushed right off the bed.

We tried everything to silence the snoring. Tennis balls sewn into the back of p.j tops didn't help - he'd just get use to them being there and lay on his back anyway. He even agreed to the drastic measure of taping his mouth shut but that, too, proved ineffective.

Once, in the deafening silence of the middle of the night I awoke to what sounded like a woman crying out for help. Half asleep, I jumped out of bed and ran to the bedroom window in terror. It sounded so close but yet so far away. The words sounded muffled--rape~rape! Was there a poor soul out there in the dark, crying out for help? Thankfully, it turned out, I was the only victim, held hostage to Bill's new noise - a result of a taped mouth that caused a whistling from his nose that sounded eerily like someone's muffled cry for help. The tape came off and, as a result, Bill landed on the couch.

At last I could enjoy some well-deserved, uninterrupted sleep - that is, until the aggravated whine of our daughter broke the silence. "MOM!" she yelled from behind closed doors, "I can STILL hear him!"

One sleep study later we found that Bill suffers from sleep apnea. Finally, hopefully, something could be done to bring quiet to our nights. Bill was outfitted with headgear and a machine that would provide constant and even airflow, to the back of his throat, all night long. Sure the machine made noise of its own but that was easy to get use to. What did take a little getting use to was lying in bed next to someone who looked like a character from Sea Hunt.

Oh, were we excited! Gone would be the days of sporting matching sets of bags under our eyes, mine from his snoring serenades, and his from my constantly nudging him awake to stop the unwelcome racket. It was a vicious circle.

Bill has since had two surgeries in his quest for quiet slumber. And for a while you could hear a pin drop as we drifted off to sleep. But, it didn't last for long. Every once in awhile the jackhammer intensity that vibrates the dream filled hours of darkness shake the house once again. But I've come to accept what I cannot change. For I've come to realize that, no matter how much I love my husband, I will never get use to that non-stop nasal sound of a freight train, no matter how hard I try.

S is for snoring and for snoozing solo at times, to ensure the sanity of a solid marriage.