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Sunday, February 19, 2012

I think this is possibly the best photo Lisa's ever taken of me...

TherasnoreShe's found a way to distract onlookers from my permanently pink eyes by making me look like a serial killer. It just goes to show that you don't have to go out on a Saturday night to have fun as a couple.

But before anyone thinks I've taken up cage-fighting at the weekend, I should point out that the small, comfortable device which is being worn discreetly in my mouth, and is almost invisible to the naked eye (assuming you're Stevie Wonder), isn't a boxer's gum shield, it's a self-fitting anti-snoring appliance. It works by stopping you getting any sleep.

As it happens, I'm not the one with the problem. I'm the one with fifty quid to waste on a hulking piece of plastic that not even Carly Simon could fit in her mouth. I don't know if it's down to pregnancy, teeth-related accidents, or just an urge to annoy me, but Lisa's been working on her night-time impression of a motorbike for some time now. My main worry is that she's going to develop serious spinal bruising from me poking her in the back twenty times a night, but I'm also concerned about my own sanity, and the possibility of me violently smothering her with a pillow at 3am, just so I can get some sleep. Which is something I'd probably live to regret.

So I bought her a Therasnore for Christmas. It's "a soft, small appliance that is so simple and easy to fit" and prevents the lower teeth and jaw from falling back during sleep, thereby stopping you snoring. The makers say it's "probably the most comfortable solution for Loud Snoring and mild to moderate Sleep Apnoea available today". Which makes you wonder what the others are like.

Anyhoo, I'm not saying it isn't "simple and easy to fit", but it's taken us two months to understand the instructions and set aside an evening to do it. Every time we get it out of the box, I take one look at the manual and decide it's easier to sleep in the other room. But last night, we finally got around to it.

Apparently the fitting "takes just a few minutes", so I think our clock must be wrong, and involves a saucepan of boiling water, a bathroom mirror, and a very real chance of Lisa gagging uncontrollably and bringing up her dinner. By the time we'd finished, everything became clear, and it was obvious how the thing works. It basically stops you breathing in any meaningful way, and prevents you ever sleeping again. Except possibly with the angels. You might as well stuff your mouth with a pair of socks, and then point your spouse in the direction of your will. The Therasnore website states that "after just a few nights of wearing it you will hardly notice it at all". Mainly because you'll be dead.

Anyway, I'm sure the makers of Therasnore have many satisfied customers, and the device has saved thousands of marriages, but frankly it's not for us. Lisa eventually stopped heaving long enough to tell me that she felt like a pig with an apple in her mouth. Although obviously she couldn't say that until she'd taken it out.

Fortunately, Therasnore comes with a 30 day money-back guarantee to cover the unlikely eventuality that you have a human-sized mouth and can't get it in there without dislocating your jaw. Sadly I bought it two months ago. But as Lisa said to me last night, as she reached for the camera and insisted I try it myself, "you'll get a blog post out of this".

2 comments:

A Passer-by said...

The advertising blurb says it is made of two medical grade materials,"   Perhaps, like the implants that there's been a scare about, yours is made of inferior industrial material.   I think you ought to send it back, apologising that it is over the 30 day limit, but that it has taken you all this time to understand the instructions!

Phil's Mum said...

The lengths you go to to get a blog post!!!  Just get some bigger ear plugs, or headphones with loud music playing!