By Pam (aka Gates) Johnson
When you think about it, sleep is kind of a weird thing. It is an altered state that can creep up on you at any time, day or night. When you are in it, you don’t know what is going on around you. Sometimes it is deep and unconscious. Sometimes it is that strange half-asleep, half-awake nether-land where things can happen and you’re not sure if what you are thinking or seeing is real. As we age, sleep becomes more important, but also more uncertain.
Maybe sleep patterns change because our level of activity changes. In youth and our working and child-rearing days, we worked from dawn to dark. Always on the go. Running here. Driving there. Carrying this. Moving that. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Always something on the mind. No wonder we would fall into bed and immediately transition into that deep REM sleep. We had to! Our batteries desperately needed to recharge before the onslaught of the next action-filled day.
As my activity slows, I find I am more aware of sleep patterns. Some friends still get up at the crack of dawn, just like they always did. Some sleep in until 8:00 or 9:00 a.m., unless there is a specific reason to get up earlier. A relative who shall remain nameless has totally flipped the sleep switch. She sleeps all day, wakes up around 3:00 in the afternoon, then is up all night.
Whatever works for you, is what I say. You earned the right to make your own sleep choices.
My sleep is a combination, or perhaps a mish-mash. I never know what I will get on any given day. On exercise class days, I get home around 10:30 in the morning, eat something, sit down in my recliner, and wake up two hours later. This is not planned; it usually just happens. If I remember to unmute my phone, I might get woken up by a telemarketer trying to sell me extended auto coverage or a burial plot. Often, chatty walkers going to the Shinglemill Trail will wake me. (Why do they talk so loudly?) Or the UPS driver might be dropping off an Amazon package for my niece.
It’s no problem if I have things to do and places to go. The needed energy is there. Naps are not mandatory. Trips here and there get taken, often in a timely manner and on-schedule. So, my sleep is not limiting or altering my daily life. However, night is a different story.
Oh, and I must add the caveat that my bedtime often depends on what ridiculous TV series I am currently binging.
Depending on all the outside distractions, like long late-night phone calls, interesting YouTube videos, or the latest episode of Resident Alien, the lights in my head dim anywhere from 9:30 to 11:00 p.m. I usually cap off the day with a bowl of orange sherbet (my current favorite) – a not really bright thing to do – fill a big glass of ice water to quench any nighttime thirst emergencies – again, not too bright – turn off the lights, and hope for the best.
Not sure when or why it happened, but I now sleep in my recliner. I have a perfectly good bed. In fact, I have two perfectly good beds. Like most normal people, I have slept in a bed my whole life. Everybody sleeps in a bed, right? Sleeping in a chair seemed kind of dumb. I think it started after a knee replacement surgery. It was easier to get up from a chair, rather than rolling around trying to get out of a bed. Much less painful, too.
By the time the knee healed, I was used to sleeping in the front room. When I woke up, I could look out the window and see deer creeping around, or listen to the rain coming down, or check the skies for UAPs (the new buzz-phrase for Unidentified Aerial Phenomena; UFOs are so last year). If I can’t fall back asleep, the TV is there, just a remote control click away.
Seems that I am not alone in this recliner-sleeping thing. It has come up in random conversations that other folks my age often spend the night in their Lazy-Boys. Shoulders, hips, and knees are happier when they don’t have to stay in one position for an extended period of time. An electric recliner gives that little extra push when it’s time for an emergency pit stop (darn that glass of ice water). A little extra bonus is there are no sheets to change.
One night my routine was proceeding normally. I had made my second trip to the bathroom and fell peacefully back to sleep. Sometimes I fall asleep with the TV remote in my hand. It usually falls off my lap when I move around or get up, but this night was a little different. When the remote slipped out of my hand, I heard it hit the floor, then …
Elizabeth Taylor and Mickey Rooney were in my living room! And a big horse named Pie (stupid name for a horse). “National Velvet.” I realized the TV had turned itself on when the remote hit the floor. Liz and Mickey were chatting away, but my darned eyelids kept falling down, so I couldn’t see what was happening.
Looking back over these eight million nights of my life, I realize how unappreciated a good night’s sleep is. Can’t remember the last time I had eight hours uninterrupted. No getting up to use the bathroom. No loud unexplained noises. No sick kids or livestock running amok through the fences. No two hours in the middle of the night when sleep just won’t happen.
Oh no, here comes my theory on sleep (random theories come to me often these days).
Maybe, when we are born, our little internal computers are programmed with a predetermined number of sleep hours. We use a high percentage of those hours as babies, sleeping most of the time (unless you are my son, who did not sleep for the first year of his life). Youth and teen-age years also use up a lot of our hours. As we age, there aren’t as many hours left in the sleep-vault, so there are fewer to use, ergo shorter nights.
This is not a complete theory. Not sure how naps, medical-induced unconsciousness, concussions, or fainting spells figure into the equation. I’m still trying to figure that part out. I will let you know when I come to a conclusion. Meanwhile, I think I will take a nap.
