Sleep Apnea by Ted Kooser

Sleep Apnea

Night after night, when I was a child,
I woke to the guttering candle
of my father’s breath. It made a sound
like the starlings that sometimes
got caught in our chimney, a chirping
that would gradually, steadily build
to a desperate, flat slapping of wings,
then suddenly drop into silence,
into the thick soot at the bottom
of midnight. No silence was ever
so deep. And then, after maybe
a minute or two, I would hear
a twitter as he came to life again,
and could at last take a breath for myself,
a sip like a toast, lifting a chilled glass
of air, wishing us courage, those of us
lying awake through those hours,
my mother, my sister and I, who each night
listened to death kiss the fluttering lips
of my father, who slept through it all.

Source: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/29/magaz ... .html?_r=0

Ted Kooser's bio: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Kooser

Yikes... that gave me chills down the spine and not in a fun way. Reminds me of Edgar Allan Poe. It's a sad affliction and impacts so many others - besides the apnea sufferer.

I like this scary poem. There have been deaths in my family of people in their sixties. No one knew at the time, but I now think they died early due to sleep apnea.

Thanks for sharing the poem.

Kind of makes you want to slap that mask right back on and stop being such a weenie.