By Jerry Zezima
To sleep — perchance to snore. Ay, there’s the rib, which my wife, Sue, pokes every time I snore while she’s trying to sleep.
My unconscious imitation of a buzzsaw, which I allegedly do often enough that Sue has to go into another room to get a good night’s slumber, is the reason I have been signed up to participate in a sleep study, which presumably will determine if my overnight rumblings can be measured on the Richter scale.
This scientific research, which also will record brainwave activity, if indeed there is any, was recommended by my primary care physician, as well as by a nurse practitioner and a doctor of audiology at an ear, nose and throat practice where I went for a consultation.
“Snoring can lead to divorce if you don’t fix it,” Dr. Sanjay Sangwan said during a telemedicine visit.
“Do you snore?” I asked.
“My wife says I do, but I won’t admit it,” the good doctor replied.
“Sometimes my wife snores, but she won’t admit, either,” I said.
“It’s always the other person,” Dr. Sangwan noted, adding that people snore for different reasons, including age, weight and sleep apnea. “Another cause can be adenoids,” he said.
“Aren’t they in outer space?” I wondered.
“I think you mean asteroids,” said the doctor, who suggested I participate in a sleep study.
ToniAnn Savage agreed.
“I hear the snoring complaint all the time,” the personable nurse practitioner told me during an office visit.
“I’m the person closest to myself, so how come I don’t hear my own snoring?” I asked.
ToniAnn’s simple answer: “You’re asleep.”
“My wife sleeps on the other side of the bed and she can hear me,” I said.
“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” ToniAnn inquired.
“The top,” I answered.
ToniAnn asked me to open my mouth, very likely to prevent me from making another stupid joke, and peered inside.
“You have a narrow oral pharynx,” she informed me.
“Is there a cure?” I gulped.
“That means you don’t have a big mouth,” ToniAnn said.
“My wife will never believe it,” I said.
“It could be the reason for your snoring,” said ToniAnn. “So could the uvula.”
I was afraid to ask.
“The little punching bag in the back of your throat,” she explained.
“I hope my wife won’t use me as a uvula when I snore,” I said.
Next I saw Dr. Deena Palumbo, who gave me a hearing test. I did well because ToniAnn had removed the wax from my ears.
“Do you get snoring complaints from patients?” I inquired.
“Every day,” said Dr. Palumbo. “I am going to add marriage counselor to my resume.”
“Do you snore?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“How about your husband?” I wondered.
“Hell, yes!” Dr. Palumbo replied, adding that snoring and hearing loss are the two biggest marital complaints.
“If you can’t hear, wouldn’t it solve the snoring problem?” I asked.
“You’d think,” she said. “But it doesn’t. That’s why you should take that sleep study.”
A few days later, I had a telemedicine visit with Dr. Mohammad Amin, a sleep specialist.
“How do you sleep?” he asked.
“I’d say I sleep like a baby, but babies don’t always sleep, so I’ll say I sleep like a log,” I responded.
“When you snore, does your wife notice if you’ve stopped breathing?” Dr. Amin asked.
“No,” I said. “She either turns over or goes to another room.”
“The new generation of wives will kick their husbands out of the room,” he told me.
“I’m lucky she hasn’t banished me to the shed,” I said.
“Does your wife know that for the study, you will be staying in the hospital overnight?” he inquired.
“She can’t wait,” I replied.
“Tell her the sleep doctor said you are going to sleep quietly when you get home,” he promised, adding that the study will be scheduled soon.
“If this works,” I told him, “she’ll say it’s a dream come true.”
Copyright 2025 by Jerry Zezima
