I slept on the couch again last night.
Not because Lucy and I had a fight or anything, but because I was snoring.
It doesn’t happen that often, but every now and again my throat makes a noise like a slimy corpse being dragged along gravel; for Lucy it’s like trying to sleep in a jellyfish-pounding plant.
It’s so bad sometimes I startle myself awake! Jumping out of bed I grab a broomstick to defend us against a clumsy phlegm-monster climbing through the bedroom window until I realise it’s just me.
It’s then that I get the spare blanky out of the closet, take my pillow and settle down on the uncomfortable couch. The result is I wake up the next morning with a sore back and a grumpier-than-usual disposition.
Snoring can be caused by a number of things – nasal stuffiness or allergies, the position you sleep in, small or collapsing nostrils, smoking, alcohol, or even just being a fatty. And the first step is to find out which of these you are.
A quick check with the British Snoring & Sleep Apnoea Association kindly told me I wasn’t overweight (apparently I’m normal), but I’m sure their opinion would alter if they could see my pregnant profile in the bathroom mirror.
If you’re what they call a ‘mouth breather’ and sleep with your mouth open, it’s apparently easy to cure. Just get yourself a mouth guard that forces you to breathe through your nose, or some ‘chin-up strips’ that’ll hold your gob closed.
I suggest you discuss this with your partner first, lest she finds it disturbing waking up next to Hannibal Lecter and you’ve wasted your money.
The other turn of events could be she finds it a kinky turn-on and you’ve got to wear it all the time.
Great success!
What excited me more (because I’m a bit odd) was a new laser treatment – I could just imagine Gert Frobe standing over Sean Connery:
“Do you expect me to talk?”
“No mister Bond, I expect to fix your deviated septum!”
When you sleep the muscles in your tongue, throat and the roof of your mouth relax; when you then breathe this tissue flaps around making a sound like a McDonald’s chef prepping the ‘special sauce’ for your quarter-pounder.
What the [insert finger exclamation here] laser does is warm the inner tissue of the palate to form rigid scar tissue that’ll, hopefully, not flobber about so much.
A Google search for the average cost revealed that most places that do this kind of treatment are in countries like Croatia, Czech republic and Germany – the kind of locales movies like Hostel are set in.
The average cost is between £300 - £400 in Germany and Czech Republic – reasonable – and a staggeringly low £92 in Croatia… probably some back-alley butcher with a blowtorch.
I couldn’t find any herbal remedies, so the hippy market is wide open, and I decided my best bet is to get down to my local otolaryngologist for help.
Either that or buy a comfier couch.
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