What can we do for you today, asks the kind nurse at the sleep unit in a north London hospital. “Save my marriage, ideally,” I reply. I’m only exaggerating a little. My snoring means that my cat is more likely to sleep in the same bed as my wife than me. Even my teenage daughter and her teddy bear are more likely to sleep with my wife than me.
I am one of 15 million snorers in the UK – that’s 41.5% of the adult population. In fact, I’m one of the 25% of those 15 million who snore regularly and disturb their partners’ sleep. That is, if these snorers have partners, which seems a diminishing possibility given how much misery they cause to those on the receiving end.
Some nights in the past year or so, while wife, daughter, cat and teddy bear are upstairs in one bed giggling over something or other, I – having been banished from the master bedroom – trudge sadly downstairs to the living room where I can snore without disturbing anyone. Can I get a boo-hoo?
“There is nothing more disturbing than lying there trying to sleep and all you can do is tune into your partner snoring next to you,” says Dr Ellie Cannon, a GP and holder of my favorite job title, namely campaign ambassador for a leading anti-snoring nasal dilator.
I haven’t yet contacted all 3.75 million regular snorers to clinch this point, but it seems very unlikely that all are sleeping on sofa beds. Doubtless many don’t have that luxury. More likely, millions of non-snorers, most of them women, are suffering silently. There they lie, red-eyed and resentful, while their snoring partners register themselves on the Richter scale.
The fact that I snore is made more likely because of my sex. “Men are more likely to snore or have sleep apnea than women,” says Pavol Surda, a consultant ENT surgeon based at London Bridge hospital. “This is because men have a larger space at the back of their throats as they tend to have larger airways. When we relax, our tongue falls back and fills this space, but the bigger the gap, the more likely it is you will snore.
“Moreover, males tend to have a higher proportion of fat around the neck, in soft palate and the upper part of the tongue, whereas women tend to have greater fat deposition in the lower part of the airway. This is likely dictated by the levels of testosterone. Studies showed that females with overproduction of male hormones are four times more likely to snore.” Estrogen and progesterone also provide protection against snoring and sleep apnea. Male hormones not so much.
So, to review: men are more likely to snore than women because of their fatter necks and bigger holes at the back of their throats in which their tongues nocturnally loll with potentially disruptive effects for bed partners. Unless I’ve misconstrued the data, heterosexual prenuptial agreements should therefore include clauses about optimal neck fatness in men.
But it’s not just my sex that matters when it comes to snoring. My wife has noticed my snoring has gotten louder in recent years. Surda explains why: “As we age, our tongue and throat muscles begin to relax and weaken, which can limit our airflow, causing us to snore.” I’m now 59; in a few years my tongue and throat muscles will, you’d think, be as helpless as a kitten up a tree. Which is grounds for divorce in my book. There is another option: “You can practice mouth and throat exercises to strengthen these muscles, which may help to reduce your snoring.” Way ahead of you, doctor: I already play the clarinet, which makes me quite the formidable kisser.
I’ve assiduously performed some throat exercises I found online. I’ve said each vowel out loud for three minutes a few times a day as if in obeisance to some invisible Henry Higgins. I’ve placed the tip of my tongue behind my top front teeth and, for three minutes a day, slid the tongue backward. I’ve closed my mouth and pursed my lips, holding the pose for 30 seconds.
I’ve even opened my mouth and moved my lower jaw to the right and held the pose for 30 seconds, and repeated the exercise on the left. I recommend you don’t do this on public transport. Again, with my mouth open, I’ve contracted the muscle at the back of my throat, all the while looking in a mirror to see my uvula bobbing up and down. Who needs Netflix? All very entertaining. But despite these exercises, I still snored. Could anything cure me?