Seeking sleep, willing to pay
70 million Americans have fueled a huge industry with a not-so simple goal:getting some shut-eye

Glenn Yunashko has rarely had a restful night in 30 years.
The Chicago computer consultant, 61, said he wakes frequently because ofsleep apnea and stress. Neither surgery nor medical devices have ended hisproblem, setting him on a weary but tenacious quest for new solutions.
His search brought him Friday to the Big Sleep Show, an expo at Rosemont’sDonald E. Stephens Convention Center with dozens of purveyors of mattresses,medicine and gizmos holding out the promise of sweet, peaceful slumber.
“I’m positive I will learn something,” Yunashko said. “And I stand a 50-50chance of seeing something that will make a difference in my life.”
The show, which organizers say is one of the first of its kind, is thelatest sign of a booming, multibillion-dollar industry geared toward the 70million Americans thought to suffer from sleep problems.
Though scientists say it’s not clear whether people’s sleep has grown worsein recent years, it has by some accounts become more scarce: A survey by thefederal government found that compared with 1985, more people today get by onsix hours or less. The average adult needs seven to nine.
At the same time, people are spending as never before in pursuit of rest.The International Sleep Products Association, the trade group for the nearly$7 billion mattress industry, said more than 1 in 4 mattress sets sold in 2007cost at least $1,000. In 2001, it was 1 in 7.
The king of them all is the Hastens Vividus, a Swedish model pricier thanmany luxury cars. A concoction of horsehair, cotton, flax and wool, theall-natural handmade mattress costs $60,000.
Mary Pat Wallace, of Chicago’s Hastens Passion for Beds, which did notexhibit at the show, said she has sold three of them so far this year. Hertypical customer chooses something relatively more modest – but still in the$10,000 to $12,000 range.
“Our client is not 20 years old,” she said. “It’s somebody who’s definitelyaccomplished and looks for the best in products.”
Dr. Lisa Shives, medical director of Northshore Sleep Medicine in Evanston,paid only $350 for her mattress, but she represents a different part of thesleep boom. Clinics like hers, which specialize in apnea, insomnia and othersleep maladies, have more than tripled nationwide in the last decade, from 417to 1,432, according to the American Academy of Sleep Medicine.
“What you’re witnessing is a growing awareness of the public that theydon’t have to suffer from sleep problems,” she said. “They’re pushing doctorsto do something.”
That something often comes in a pill – pharmacies dispensed 54 millionsleep aid prescriptions last year, according to health care informationcompany IMS Health – but many patients increasingly are interested innon-pharmaceutical remedies.
Those were well-represented at the Big Sleep Show, from $80 amber-coloredeyeglasses that supposedly encourage the production of the sleep-promotinghormone melatonin, to $20 compact discs that promise to soothe the brain withspecial tones embedded in New Age music.
Ed Zebus, 61, a retired engineer from La Grange, tried a different balm: a”motion lounge” sold by a Schaumburg company.
Virtual Relaxation Solutions claims its $8,000 system offers the equivalentof several hours of rest in just 20 minutes of reclining on a lounge thatmildly rocks and rotates. The aim is to simulate the motion of waves whilethrumming music vibrates through the cushion.
It’s like a massage performed by a subwoofer, and it worked for Zebus.
“It was a really relaxing, calming experience,” he said. “I do somemeditation myself, and this seemed to bring me down faster.”
A New York company called MetroNaps offered a similar experience with itsEnergyPod. A lounge chair with a light-blocking hood, it’s supposed torecharge workers in 20 minutes.
Co-founder Christopher Lindholst said that while some American hospitalsand dot-com companies have rented the pods for $800 a month, companiesoverseas seem more comfortable with the idea of snoozing employees. “It’sharder in the states,” he said. “We have a definite ‘work for 8 to 10 hours’mentality.”
For attendees whose problem was waking up, inventor Gauri Nanda offeredClocky, a $50 alarm on wheels. At the appointed hour it drives off thenightstand and skitters around the room, beeping and tweeting like R2-D2 untilthe groggy sleeper chases it down. “I would always hit the snooze button overand over again,” Nanda said. “I needed something that would drag me out ofbed.”
Janis Bell came to Rosemont in search of something more prosaic. Theretired software engineer from Berwyn was told a year ago she had sleep apnea,a narrowing of the airway. Though she treats it with a stream of pressurizedair delivered through a mask, she still wakes three or four times a night.
Alerted to the show by a support group, Bell, 67, wanted only to find amask that was more comfortable, or perhaps a new sleep doctor. Anything morethan that seemed too much to hope for.
“I’m still waiting for the miracle people talk about,” she said. “I don’tthink there will be a miracle.”
Yunashko, a fellow sleep apnea sufferer, wasn’t expecting a magic bulleteither, but he was interested in a New York doctor’s talk on music therapy.She was looking for research subjects, he said, and he was willing tovolunteer.
If it didn’t work, he reasoned, he’d be out $1,000 or so in travelexpenses. If it did, it might change his life.
“I’m here with an open mind,” he said.
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 jkeilman@tribune.com