We finally bought a new mattress. The old one was 13 years old, three years past the due date for replacement. I am shocked that mattresses don’t live forever, like they seemed to when we were kids. You just slept on them (or used them as trampolines) but you did not replace them.
But Ken & I are learning about the new biology of being 50+. The slab you sleep on is picking up in importance. You would think that such a passive thing as sleeping would not wound a thing that cost $1,000 thirteen years ago, but our mattress had finally sagged into a shallow “W.” I wrote off my nightly tossing and turning, like a rotisserie chicken, as yet another signal of an aging body. I tried to deny an increasing lumpiness in my beloved pillowtop but it had succumbed to mattress old age and was taking me with it. A recent back injury forced me out of my bedroom and into the guest bed, which, since it is seldom used, is in better shape. I could sleep, more or less, through the night.
My chiropractor recommended a Chiromatic mattress. Not inexpensive. My husband drove us to the showroom because to spend an hour in the car meant I had to take serious pain medication and lay flat in the passenger seat to get there to check them out. In short, we placed an order and now have been sleeping on it for a week.
We sleep like babies now. And I am off the pain meds.