"Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul."
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"
Sonoma County Fair
If you're as fortunate as Jadyne you fall asleep within five or ten minutes after you turn out the light. We could be in mid-conversation. I ask her a question. "Did you hear me?" I ask. She responds, "ZZZZZ"
I'm not nearly as lucky. I'm currently in a period in my life at 72 when I actually can sleep. Not enough, but I can sleep. By 8:00 pm I'm flat on my back with a book or my iPad in my hands; by 8:30 I make one last visit to the bathroom. By 9:00 it's dark and so am I. "Do you really go to bed that early?" my friends ask, incredulously. "Yes, I do," I respond, annoyed. "I often wake up between 3 and 4," I say, "and by 4 I'm heating hot water to warm my cup, then grinding the beans for the six cups of Peets Major Dickason blend that greet us in the morning." The SF Chronicle arrives at 4, and more than once I've heard the thud of the paper on the driveway as I stumble up the flagstone to retrieve the collection of yesterday's bad news that accompanies my first cup of morning joe. This morning I went face-to-face with a neighborhood skunk who was emerging from the Patton's driveway. We stared at each other, not making a move, before he slunk into the gutter that runs down the north side of Rugby Avenue. A couple of weeks ago Jadyne was sprayed as she went to get the paper. Several days before the smell dissipated.
But not all has gone well. I've had periods when I've slept less than five or six hours, fatigue be damned. I lie awake for hours, my eyes closed, the room dark and quiet, the only sound the occasional train in the distance, "It's like a crypt!" exclaimed one of our friends who spent her first night here. No disturbances, that is none from outside. But here am I on the inside.
He's counting sheep. That doesn't work. Nor does counting anything. Or playing a song in my mind on the guitar. Or, when I used to play golf, replaying a round, shot by shot.
What does? Well, Ambien does. Now that the patent on the original drug has run out there's a generic equivalent called "Zolpidem." When I was an Ambien devoteé my doctor would prescribe thirty pills at a time in 10 mg sizes. Here's the deal with Ambien. After two or three nights taking Ambien you think you've reset your sleep clock, paid your debt to the sleep bank. You're rested and refreshed. The fourth night you don't fall asleep nearly as fast. You tell yourself, "If I had taken an Ambien I would be asleep by now." You lie awake for another thirty minutes or so, then take another Ambien. Presto. You come back to bed and fall asleep. But now you know that unless you take an Ambien, you will never get to sleep. That's not true, of course, but you've bought into that thinking. Now what do you do?
Dr. Dean Edell, a now retired doctor with a radio show, tells the story of a night he spent camping with his wife. Unable to seep, Dr. Dean took an Ambien and immediately dropped off. In the morning his wife asked, "Where's my thyroid pill?" Never overestimate the power of placebos. I cut a 5 mg Ambien into quarters, effectively turning them into placebos, and off I go.
Some people can sleep anywhere.
San Francisco
Great Barrier Reef, Australia 2003
Lake Tahoe
San Francisco's BART trains are the only bed for many.
We get it where we can. People ride BART from one end of the line to the other and back again. It's warm. No one bothers you.
I'm reading "Why We Sleep" by Matthew Walker who makes a persuasive case for eight hours of sleep every night. He describes an incredibly powerful drug that's in front of each and every one of us.
AMAZING BREAKTHROUGH
"Scientists have discovered a revolutionary new treatment that makes you live longer. It enhances your memory and makes you more creative. It makes you look more attractive. It keeps you slim and lowers food cravings. It protects you from cancer and dementia. It wards off colds and the flu. It lowers your risk of heart attacks and stroke, not to mention diabetes. You'll even feel happier, less depressed, and less anxious. Are you interested?" Yes, please hand it over. I'll pay anything. Is it legal?
It is a myth that we need less sleep as we age. Eight to nine hours for every adult, every night. I've been in bed for eight hours straight (not counting tugs of the bladder), but asleep? Nein. This is a wonderful new project for me. Sleep. Eight hours. Who knew?
Millions of adults have sleep issues, the most common of which is insomnia. There is no shortage of information available on insomnia, sleep apnea, and the myriad of other issues that beset those of us who have trouble sleeping.
To overcome my tinnitus I was introduced to "cognitive behavioral therapy", a collection of mental and psychological exercises that are designed to help the patient deal with and overcome the triggers that made coping difficult. I haven't enrolled in any classes that deal with insomnia, but the most promising and long-lasting treatment is, you guessed it, "cognitive behavioral therapy," mental processes that help us overcome the stressors and other issues that have led us down the path of unwanted awakeness.
At the moment I'm doing well. No heavy dinners, a cool bedroom, darkness, no iPad in bed, no late night cocktails, and a consistent routine, unusual as it may seem to others, that begins to shut my body down after sixteen hours and wakes it up, early though it may be, eight hours later. Hello, 4 am, skunks, the morning Chronicle, and three cups of Peets.