Snoring That Sounds Like Chairs Scraping Floors

sleep apnea 300x250 Snoring That Sounds Like Chairs Scraping FloorsThursday, December 14, 2006

 ”Would you mind not scraping your chair on the floor?”

How do you sleep?

By that I mean, what position?

I couldn’t sleep last night.

I tossed and turned relentlessly. Every position I lay in felt uncomfortable. On my back I felt helpless, as if I were drowning, then later on my side in the foetal position my shoulders started to hurt. Agitated, I tossed myself onto my front, face down into the pillows – Ugh! Suffocating! Wondering what the time was I reached out to the bedside unit and grabbed my phone. It was almost two in the morning. I started to feel panicked because I knew that once it started to get light outside I would definitely not be able to sleep, however the more I worried about it getting lighter, the harder it became to sink into a sleep.

Speaking of sleeping reminds me of the fact that I snore.

I didn’t know that I was a heavy snorer until I was 17. No one had the good grace to let me know. However it could be the case that I started snoring at around that time, rather than  having always snored. I am sure my snoring gets worse as I get older because people mention it a lot more than they used to… Not that I’m a stop out sleeping here and there or anything. hahahah…

The first time that I was told that I snored it came as a shock to me. Not in a “bad” or “mortified” shocked way, but more in a “Wow -  I really didn’t know that” way. I wasn’t really bothered, after all if I am asleep it ain’t bothering me. My boyfriend at the time told me I snored like a hog after the millionth time of me spendidng the night. I wondered what had taken him so long to say something. In comparison my friend Tamara will not sleep at a dude’s house, even if she really wants to for fear that she “might” snore or her eyes “might” look puffy in the morning. She doesn’t even snore! Perhaps I am just shameless.

I have so many snoring stories it is unbelievable. I have been recorded snoring on more than one occasion, and had it played back to me. Like I’d want to hear it? I’ve woken up suddenly in the night to be confronted with a shadowy figure hovering over me. I thought it was a break in and started screaming. It turns out it was my friend who, unable to sleep was figuring out how to rearrange me to put a stop to the noise. Another time on holiday with Tamara I woke up to find her at the edge of a bed with a cup of water in hand. In my semiconscious state I asked her what she was doing and she retorted,

“I can’t take it any more!”

She was going to throw water on me. What a friend? huh?

In saying all that. I think the situation with Tamara was an extreme case. I had the flu. I can blame it on the bogey. It was blocking the airways. It appears that my snoring is temperamental. Sometimes I don’t snore at all, well probably not “at all”, but sometimes my snoring is not that noticeable. I don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s when I’m in a foreign bed. I know that I dribble when I’m in a bed that is not my own. So maybe snoring works in the same way. Perhaps there is some anxiety playing itself out in my subconscious?

Speaking of shadowy figures looming over me in the night. One night a friend of mine, Louis stayed the night. I was laying on one sofa and he was sitting on the other sofa. We were watching a film, but I had fallen asleep not long after it started. I woke up unable to breathe, gasping for air, with flailing arms, trying to scream, but was only able to make some kind of feeble attempt at a scream. He turned, looking alarmed and asked me what was wrong. I pretended that I was talking gibberish in my sleep. How could I say, 

“I dreamt that you were kissing me and I woke up imagining it was true and was trying to beat you up?”

I mean fellas, how would you feel if someone said that to you?

Okay, now back to the snoring. I inherit the snoring from my mother, only she doesn’t snore some of the time or even the majority of the time. She snores ALL of the time. Wherever you are in the house you can hear it. If she is sleeping and you are standing directly outside the house you’d probably hear it. Growing up with it you just get used to it. It can be annoying at times though, like when as kids my brother and I would watch TV in my parent’s room. If my mother fell asleep, that was programme time over with. Trying to nudge her into different positions would silence her for a minute or two, but such concord was short lived.

I never realised just quite how unbearable my mother’s snoring was until she came to visit me at university and spent the night in my bed. As luck would have it she fell asleep before me and once she was off into the Land of Nod, my hopes of sleeping that night were crushed. The sound was excruciatingly painful. I couldn’t even begin to try and fall asleep. Not only was she snoring heavily but every now and then she would cough and splutter like she was choking. It was a really disturbing thing to witness. I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. I spent the entire night wide eyed, trying the shifting technique I’d first attempted as a child and with little success.

Early in the morning just after my mother had woken up there was a firm knock on the door (I was on campus.) I opened it slightly to find the girl from the room next door to mine glaring at me sternly. I didn’t open it much more than that and then she spoke,

“Would you mind not scraping your chair on the floors? It makes a hell of a racket.”

I didn’t even know what to say. I was stunned. I tried to find the words to say something but they had become fugitives, silently escaping and there were no replacements. Luckily she left it as that and didn’t hang around for any explanation. When I told my mother what had happened she was outraged. She said the girl had a “nerve” and should “mind her business.” Most people would have felt shame, but not my mother – Oh no…

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