Untitled Document
When you get information that will forever change
your life, the moment tends to crystallize in your memory. Years later, you
can recall where you were, who gave you the news, and exactly how you
reacted. I have such a distinct recollection about the day I
learned that most people spend a full third of their lives sleeping. I was
sitting at my desk, the last one in the first row, when my teacher, Mrs.
Miller — who had long dark-red hair and wire-rimmed glasses
(crystallized memory, see?) — casually mentioned this appalling fact
to the class. Of course, anybody with a grasp of basic math would
have already figured out that if you sleep eight hours per night,
you’re slumbering one-third of a 24-hour day and that if you do it
every night you end up spending a significant portion of your life
snoozing. At that point, however, I hadn’t learned multiplication and
division; I was only in the third grade. I don’t remember why Mrs. Miller was talking
about sleep, but I do recall thinking that she sure seemed nonchalant about
this huge waste of the limited time we human beings have on this planet.
More than that, I remember my reaction: I promised myself that such a fate
would never befall me. To this day, I have kept that pledge. I sleep less
than anybody I know. My mother should take some of the blame. Always up
with the sun, she had a disparaging term for anybody who slept later
— she called them all “slugabeds.” Consequently, I
trained myself to wake up early, even on weekends. Of course, when I became a teenager, it was cool to
stay up late — so I did that, too. In high school, I realized that it was possible to go
all night. In college, I discovered I could stay up two nights in a row
— sometimes even three. This practice seemed necessary: I carried a
full load of classes, held a demanding work-study job, and enjoyed some
semblance of a social life. I burned the candle at both ends and in the
middle. After graduation, I developed a habit of working long
hours at my job and getting up early to exercise. When my kids came along,
the exercise decreased as the nighttime hours were whittled away by little
creatures who needed feeding, changing, or comforting. For a few years I
kept my alarm set to go off at 4 or 4:30 almost every morning so that I
could get my older son to predawn skating practice. Of course, this lifestyle has a way of catching up
with me. Just because my schedule doesn’t allow a full night’s
sleep doesn’t mean that my body goes along with the plan. I’ve
been caught dozing at my desk, in college classrooms, in city-council
chambers, and in courtrooms. I’ve fallen asleep talking to people on
the phone; I once nodded off during an interview. I almost always fall
asleep during movies — especially in good films, unfortunately; dreck
such as Rocky VI keeps
me wide awake. Over the years I’ve developed all sorts of
strategies for dodging the sandman. Yes, I drink coffee, but that’s
just a starting point. I also swig energy drinks instead of soda and chew
caffeinated gum. When I’m really tired, I take a Vivarin tablet, wash
it down with Red Bull, and chase it with a wad of spearmint-flavored Mad
Croc. Half the time, though, I nod off anyway. Perhaps that’s why my boss asked me to read
this week’s cover story, about the ill effects of sleep deprivation.
I told him sure, I’d be happy to read it . . . in just a little
while. First, I gotta take a nap.
Contact Dusty Rhodes at drhodes@illinoistimes.com.
This article appears in Jan 4-10, 2007.
