Yep, that vertigo stuff is still around. I lived in a Rochester hotel room for close to a month and had two million and three tests. (Just ask my insurance company if you need confirmation.) However, vertigo still has residence somewhere in my brain. That’s another yes; I have a brain. That was formally determined up north of the border about a month ago.
Vertigo attacks us diehards in multiple ways. I used to think that vertigo meant that people got dizzy when they walked around. I’m almost a little embarrassed to say that now. There is so much more to this silly condition.
Sometimes vertigo is just what the previous paragraph describes. I get dizzy when I walk around. Occasionally it’s just like a little buzz after an evening partying. (That’s a memory from the distant past!) You can tell this vertigo has taken hold when I wobble back and forth when trying to walk down the sidewalk. I look kind of cute if I do say so myself when I move with this dance-like precision minus a disco ball. I can get where I am going, but my path is far from straight. Watch out Dancing with the Stars!
Another vertigo is a deeper dizzy in my brain. That’s when I not only can’t walk straight down the sidewalk, but I don’t even stay on the sidewalk. The other day, the wind blew my slight frame right off the sidewalk into a tree. It was a little breezy outside. However Tree 53, Janet 0. When I feel like this, I won’t drive. The dizziness is just too strong for me to be able to safely go down the street. I’m a little nuts, but I would never endanger someone else. Sometimes, the world turns clockwise and sometimes it goes in the other direction. The weird thing is that sometimes, it is not the world going by me; I’m the one spinning around my surroundings. I often have nausea here, but can’t always locate the proper receptacle if you know what I mean.
Believe it or not, a third vertigo will wrack my body at times and those of others with severe vertigo. I used to always end up in the emergency room when this one came to visit, but now I feel like I know more about vertigo than many of the local ER staff. I don’t bother even trying the sidewalk when I am like this. My proprioception skills just don’t exist here. (How about that for a five-dollar word!) I have no idea where is up and where is down. Many people feel that I ought to use my cane more frequently with vertigo. If I did when I felt like this, I could really do damage to someone’s legs, arms, head or other bodily part. When this vertigo is digging in my head, I don’t know where to put my cane. I need assistance standing and walking because I can’t figure out where my foot should go. It’s quite baffling to those around me and probably a little comical if I weren’t the main character. Fear grips me here, even when I am safe in my comfy bed. My mattress feels like it is flying away, but it also throws in some neat flips and turns. I’m confident the bed frame will flip me off at a moments notice. You can check out the scratches and bruises on Bob’s arms. Now, I have never been a roller-coaster fan, but with this vertigo I question the sanity of people who like to be flipped all over the place.
There is at least one additional vertigo that I experience more often than I would prefer. This difficulty is how I began this post. It almost feels like an out of body experience. I have often tried to communicate how it feels when this vertigo plagues me. I’m sure that my body is flipping around, but I am almost not really in my body. I kind of sense something is very wrong. Sometimes I am up close to my body, and the next instant I get thrown a good distance away. (I should probably talk to Stephen King or one of those other psycho writers.) I’m convinced my body is turning at all different motions, but I also realize that the room is going kind of crazy too. I don’t get as nauseous here, but I feel a strong apprehension that thinly coats my body and thoughts in perspiration, change that to sweat! Perspiration seems too flowery.
Vertigo is quite an interesting condition really. On its own, there is no pain or big trauma. You don’t need a blood transfusion (I guess depending on the severity of my falls), psychological examination or body casting. It lets you view the world from a new perspective. Many people feel that I would feel ashamed, depressed or aghast at these symptoms but I guess I’m getting used to them. It’s amusing for me to see which people come to help while others high-tail it out of there. I simply explain it’s my silly old vertigo. Onlookers usually know at least a distant cousin of their neighbor’s maternal grandmother who once had vertigo, or they look at me as if I will soon be joining the Ringling Brothers.
I’m not writing this for sympathy or hushed tones of ooohs and ahhhhs. Many friends and acquaintances have asked questions now that they are getting accustomed to my strange gait, so I thought I should take some time out for a brief description of one of the conditions that is a part of me, but no longer defines me. I have blond hair (with the help of a box), two grandsons with fabulous parents, a cute hubby and vertigo. That’s my life right now.
I didn’t mean to ramble so long, but I guess most of you are used to my multi-paragraph posts. You can always skim through a great deal of my verbiage anyway.
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s blog. You have to hear how Einstein and I had a close encounter with a skunk that decided to come introduce himself on our late night walk. There’s always excitement around this place.
Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:
- You become the resident expert on vertigo as the world goes round and round and back again. (That could almost be a song!) How about dizzy? I’m so dizzy my head is spinning. I’ve got a million of them.
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