It was late in the semester. I must have had a final or something because I got back to Dorchester before noon. I didn’t have to get up for work until 10. The sun was shining as it’s wont to do during the day. That meant I would sleep but fitfully. No need to set an alarm.
I jerked awake, filled with a vague sense that something was wrong. The moon was glowing as it’s wont to do during the night. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked at the clock. 1:37. Ugh, I thought, it was one of those days. I’d only slept for a few hours. I rolled over prepared to try to force myself to sleep through the rest of the afternoon.
Wait!
I sprang into a sitting position. If it’s not even two in the afternoon, why is it so dark?
Oh, no.
I’d overslept.
The T stopped running at midnight and I didn’t have a car. I had no way to get to Charlestown.
I worked the graveyard shift through college. My work schedule changed over the years but my most common schedule had me working Friday through Monday; midnight to 8 am on Friday and Monday, 8 pm to 8 am on Saturday and Sunday. My class schedule was all over the place but I never took late afternoon or evening classes. I also couldn’t take an 8 am classes. I was just getting out of work. I tried to get special dispensation to take an ASL class that met Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8 but my boss wouldn’t let me leave early one day a week. And this was when Northeastern was on the quarter system, meaning it would only be for twelve weeks not the current fifteen. What might have been, eh?
I didn’t work the graveyard shift for that long but I’m still feeling its effects. I still don’t sleep well. But I can’t place the blame entirely on that. I’ve never slept well. In fact, one of the things I have in common with my mom is my amateur sleep skills (Thanks, Ma!) This leads me to wonder: Are sleep habits nature or nurture? We both have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. Which is why I didn’t need to set an alarm on that day twenty-odd years ago. (In case you’re wondering, a coworker fetched me so I made it to work that morning.)
That morning was the exception; I normally use an alarm. And my hearing loss is most acute at the lower frequencies. That means I can use a traditional alarm clock with its higher frequencies. While I never used one of those rotund creatures with the bells sitting a-top like some weird antenna, I did use a clock radio. At first I tried to use the radio itself. But whether I woke up or not depended on what song was being played. Sometimes it would take until the scorching guitar solo or the blaring ad break to wake me up. I didn’t want to turn up the volume too much lest I wake up my housemates, be they kith or kin.
So I switched to the alarm function.
It had one volume: too loud.
Before I got my first set of bionic ears, I had no clue how loud anything was. So I always thought things were too loud, whether someone said so or not. The traditional blaring chimes needed no one to say anything. They were so loud, I’d jump awake, scared out of what fitful sleep I’d managed to wrangle. The worst times were when I’d just gotten back to sleep after my latest late-night waking. This continued even after I got my first set of bionic ears because I don’t sleep with them in. But now I have a better handle on what’s too loud for others. Which is why I eventually started using my phone as my alarm.
My first smartphone was a Blackberry. I don’t remember it having an alarm function. But when I stopped working for Partners, I got a cheap-o Android phone. Now I have an iPhone. I switch to the opposite of cheap-o (expensive-o?) iPhone because they’re much more accessible for hearing needs. But that’s a post for another day. Be it Android or Apple, most smartphones come with an alarm function. And with that alarm function, comes a variety of ringtones. Some of them are too soft, even with the volume up. Some of them are too loud, even with the volume down. I don’t want to jump awake.
The one I’ve settled on is called “Chimes”. It’s a trilling series of high tones. I have to keep the volume up enough that it starts me awake. But that beats being jumped awake. Truth be told, it doesn’t usually wake me up. Not because I don’t hear it but because I’m awake before it. Being the wretched sleeper that I am, if I wake up within 30 minutes of my alarm, I’ll just get up. It beats being pulled out of a REM sleep I’d only just reached. It’s only after a bluffy day, bluffing hearing people or bluffing being an extrovert, that I need it.
I could be mistaken, but I think this is a topic that comes into play no matter how well you hear. Am I right? Do you have to find the balance between an alarm that’s too loud and one that’s too soft?
Awake or asleep,
In the quiet of the night,
the world walks softly.
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