Have you ever had Vertigo? It is exactly like that
unwelcomed New Year’s Day after an eve of hard drinking and menthol smoking,
just seconds before you make that fervent wish for a new identity and the
auld-langxiety sets in. You open your eyes and the bedroom starts to spin. The
only difference is with Vertigo; there is no night before full of regrets. You
remember the movie you watched, the company you kept, the popcorn you ate and
the last paragraph of the novel you were reading before drifting off into a
pleasant sleep. If you are anything like me, your first thought will be, I’m dying and it isn’t going to be pretty.
Vertigo slams into your head like a speeding bullet, a bus out
of nowhere, and full of maliciousness in its pursuit of a wobbly gait. I
slapped my hands over my eyes. Literally. The darkness helped but my stomach
informed me we were still in motion. Should I say something to my family or lie
here indefinitely with my hands over my eyes? Every time I peeked through my
fingers and opened my eyes the spinning would be in full play. Deep breathing
ensued, along with the prayer I hadn’t said in over forty years. “If I should
die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” I think I heard the Lord
speak back. “You should talk to me more often, not just at these uncomfortable
times.” He was right of course.
“Anyone want bacon and eggs?” My husband called up from the
kitchen. I could hear my mother-in-law
and brother-in-law laughing; even my granddaughter was beginning to stir. Of
course, the typical time for something to go wrong is when you have a house
full of guests. I held on to the banister with both hands as I descended the stairs
resting briefly at each step before taking the next. I made it to the dining
room and took a seat.
“Toast?” My husband offered the plate.
I shook my head and slapped my hands over my eyes.
“I thought you liked sourdough toast.”
I offered a half-hearted smile in his direction and slowly
lowered my hands. “I woke up dizzy.” My
eyes seemed to be reaching out with invisible hands trying to grasp something,
anything to hold on to.
He took my face in his hands. “Your eyes are moving fast.
They look funny.”
“It’s hilarious from this side,” I joked. The dizziness slowed and I found if I kept my
head very still the whirling subsided.
My granddaughter looked at me with concern. “Are you okay,
grandma?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I lied.
I made it through the day with the bare minimum of movement
and by the next day, Sunday, the symptoms hadn’t changed much at all. Everyone
left that morning and by afternoon I finally surrendered. “Let’s go to urgent
care.”
The doctor smiled when I told him my symptoms. “I get a case
of Vertigo at least once a week.”
“Well I don’t,” I replied bitterly. “Are you sure I don’t
have a tumor? Shouldn’t you scan my brain or somethin’?”
He went on to explain that in the inner ear there is liquid
and thousands of microscopic hairs that are topped off with crystalline balls. When you move, so do they and in one second
they send messages to the right muscles so you can keep your balance and also
lets you know which end is up meaning where gravity is coming from. If the balls break off the hairs, your brain
gets confused with mixed signals and you feel dizzy.
It stands to reason that if you have a lot of balls rolling
around in your head like marbles, it would make you feel crazy or dizzy. Maybe
that’s where the saying, “she’s lost her marbles,” came from.
“Where do the balls go?”
He shrugged. “Your body absorbs them and you grow more.”
“What can I do to stop busting my balls?”
He gave me a prescription for dizziness and then said I
probably had a vitamin B12 deficiency and advised me to take Lipo-Flavanoid,
which is a vitamin supplement. It took another bout of Vertigo for me to follow
his advise and trek over to the drug store to buy them. I usually take vitamins and put them in a
drawer. I actually swallow these and I haven’t had Vertigo since. All it takes
is being threatened with the feeling of riding a tilt-a-whirl for several hours
for me to follow directions. Oh yeah,
and thanks Lord.
No comments:
Post a Comment