Folks, for some unknown reason I recently joined Insomniacs Anonymous. We don’t have meetings, we just lie awake in our own beds each night daydreaming about enjoying a good nights’ sleep.
Now, I don’t have any trouble getting to sleep, the trick it appears, is to stay asleep. Each night I drop off faster than a schoolbag hitting the floor on a Friday afternoon, but a few hours later I’ll wake up, look at the bedside clock and groan.
At this point, Long Suffering Wife will mutter, “Welcome to my world.”
This trend of not being able to stay asleep has come as a bit of a shock for a bloke who can normally snooze through a building collapse.
Anyway, I quickly discovered that self-medicating by mainlining numerous cups of strong coffee to stay awake during the day, then downing far too many beers of a night to try and put me to sleep, made things much, much worse. And the constant flushing of the toilet during the night hasn’t done much for Long Suffering Wife’s peaceful slumber either.
Plus, the sleep deprivation, has turned me into a highly strung, tap dancing, drama queen; more so than usual. So, piffling little problems, like losing my reading glasses, quickly turns into a five-alarm meltdown, and things don’t improve when people casually point out that they’re nestled on my head.
Desperate, I turned to Dr. Google, typed in ‘Sleep Disorders’ and was instantly bombarded by ads for potions, pills, and natural remedies which promise near orgasmic levels of refreshing dozing.
But my mate, a lifelong insomniac, reckons the best sleep he’s ever had has been during major surgeries. “Anaesthetic,” he assures me, with a blissful smile, “does not muck around.” I am getting the impression he’d happily line up for weekly operations just for the rock-solid guarantee of a good nights’, chemically induced, sleep.
I’m starting to reach that stage myself.
But before I reach for horse tranquilisers or any other concoction that knocks me out, but turns me into a drooling work-a-day zombie, I’d like to sleep on it first.