Dark Times
28 May 2008 Leave a Comment
in A Zany Life, Goals Tags: compensation, dizzy, funny signs, vertigo
I saw a handwritten sign today at the check out counter at Home Depot. It read:
EverReady Floating Lantern, $3.95
Good for
a. boating
b. camping
c. dark times
Whoever wrote it must have been having a bad day. Considering my last few weeks, it made me laugh.
Here’s an update on my dizzy world.
- Every morning I learn to walk all over again. When I wake up, the earth spins in a different orbit for me than for the rest of the population. I stagger, but don’t fall.
- I can’t take the medicine the ENT prescribed. (Unless I want to sleep all day.) I’m not nauseous. Considering how this episode began, that’s a big plus.
- For the last two days, Bacon has taken me to the park to walk my regular mile and a half. Determined to get over this, I’m trying to do the things I normally do. Walking helps.
- Riding in the car does not help. All car trips feel like out-of-control bumper cars, and I’m not referring to Bacon’s driving. The world hurls by with less symmetry than it should. Needless to say, we’re saving on gasoline because I can’t drive or ride comfortably.
- I can read and write, but movies, TV, and florescent lighting make me feel like I’m on the dance floor with a fog machine and strobe lights. I have perceptual issues with all things that move, children and dogs included.
All of the medical websites say the way to get over these balance issues is to train your brain to compensate, so that’s what I’m trying to do. Apologies for not posting as often as I should.
The Mother
22 May 2008 1 Comment
in A Zany Life Tags: homeopathic cure, vertigo, vinegar
I’ve been officially dizzy for two weeks, 14 days. Today marks the end of my last seasick patch. I’m afraid to peel it off. What if it’s keeping me upright? To tell you the truth, I’m skeptical of prescription drugs. I know the patches help, but they also make my vision blurry. I’m hoping I’ll soon be seeing clearly.
A friend offered a homeopathic cure for congestion, Organic Apple Cider Vinegar. It has a mysterious clouded not homogenized look to it, and then, there’s the label. Printed at the bottom it says, With The ‘Mother’. According to the bottle “The Mother” is connected strand-like chains of protein enzyme molecules and is highly regarded throughout history. In other words, the sludge at the bottom of the bottle is “The Mother.” Shake vigorously, and take a slug.
Yesterday, Bacon noticed, “You haven’t been drinking the vinegar.”
I thought for a second. “I tell you what. You take a slug, and then, I’ll take one.”
With suspect in this voice he said, “Why should I take it? My inner ear isn’t clogged.”
“It’s supposed to be good for whatever ails you. Says so on the bottle.” I read, Many medical studies show the health benefits of Apple Cider Vinegar. In 400 B.C. Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine, used it for its amazing natural cleansing, healing, and engergizing health qualities.
He gave me a long look. “You should keep taking it.”
“I will if you will.”
Bacon opened the bottle and took a slug. ”Whisky River take my mind.” Bacon is know to sing in loud random outbursts, Willie Nelson songs not excluded. He took a deep breath, trying to re-inflate his lungs. A sip of “The Mother” can knock the wind out of you.
Cherry and Coco came running into the kitchen. “What’s that?”
“Daddy drank my vinegar.”
He handed me the bottle. I cringed. Like tequila shots from another place and time, I sucked it down. This stuff burns like liquid fire from your lips all the way down your throat until it hits your stomach with a plop. If I were inclined to drink Jack Daniels, (I’m not by the way) it would be smoother than the contents of this bottle. Bacon is convinced it’s alcoholic. I couldn’t find any evidence on the label. Jalapeno peppers are more subtle.
I’m not sure if “The Mother” works or not. The idea of taking it is so bad that I’ll get well, so I won’t have to swig anymore.
Not In Charge
18 May 2008 Leave a Comment
in Housekeeping, Joined at the Heart, Writers Write Tags: asking for help, balance, vertigo
My family panics every time I pick up a knife to chop a salad. This week has made me humble. No task is easy. Every action must be focused and deliberate. Walking through WalMart yesterday, I was overwhelmed by stimuli: buzzing lights, muzak, my girls pulling random hair accessories off the rack and announcing, “I need this Mama.”
Let me explain. I’m always in charge. I’m the mom. I’m the Type A, to-the-point, fix-it-now girl. I find myself in the position of allowing depending on others to do stuff for me. BBC2 and Cookie Crisp are here to help. So far, I’ve eaten a gourmet dessert at every meal, had my kitchen cabinets painted, and been the recipient of a new garden gate. All of this happened while I sat on the couch or the patio or at the kitchen table. (It’s great work if you can get it.) It’s as if a whole team of Santa’s elves arrived to pick up the pieces of my world.
I’m grateful. I can’t overstate that. I’ve been blessed, but I’m also a blank slate. I have no view of what might be next. I feel stupid because I’ve never had an accurate view of what’s next. I only thought I did.
I can’t predict or control the outcome of this day. A loss of balance has put me in my place.
Vertigo
16 May 2008 4 Comments
in Writers Write Tags: dizzy, perception, vertigo
The condition, not the Hitchcock film. It struck last Friday morning. I felt light headed, but I dressed anyway. I sat in the big family room chair for a few minutes coaching the girls through their get-ready-for-school routine. When I stood, the floor shifted. Each step produced a personal earthquake.
I called Bacon at work. Thank God for speed dial. Bacon found me on the bathroom floor. Lifting my head felt like riding the Tilt-a-Whorl on my junior high band trip. An alien being took up residence in my body and slung me from one place to another.
Bacon drove to the emergency room and carried me inside. When I emptied the contents of my stomach on the hospital floor, the triage nurse was convinced a gurney was necessary, forgoing both waiting room and paperwork.
Three days, two MRIs, and a million needle sticks later, all the dreadfuls were eliminated. I hadn’t suffered a stroke, a brain tumor, or a heart attack. As the internist and the neurologist appeared in the floating nebula of my hospital room, inanimate objects traveled of their own volition across flat surfaces. My perception emulated a pickle jar with the lid opening and closing. Everyone contorted to the left, and then, to the right.
Finally, a nurse slapped a seasick patch on my neck. While I couldn’t have passed a field sobriety test, I felt better. The ENT diagnosed inner-ear inflammation. The problem creates false perceptions. I can’t drive. As I type, the letters are rearranging themselves on the screen. At least I’m home, and I have good help.
The dizziness is supposed to go away with time. I wish I had something philosophical to say about the experience, but for today, it’s enough to walk across the room on my own.
The Goldfish Bowl
07 May 2008 3 Comments
in A Zany Life, Housekeeping Tags: antique bath tub, backyard pond, goldfish, water garden
Since 1997, I’ve been the owner of an antique bathtub. It’s a large white-enameled vessel, bigger than most. It sits on a platform instead of claw feet. The tub migrated to my house from the school where I used to teach. It was a play prop that lived in my garage, and later, my backyard. It held tomato plants once. When that didn’t work out, it sat in the flower bed, empty. Well, almost empty. I’m not counting random leaves or occasional gecko.
Every time my dad saw it, he suggested I give it to my sister to use as a watering trough for her cows. Never mind that my sister lives 500 miles away or that the tub is gargantuan-heavy, or that I paid good money for it. Dad couldn’t be dissuaded. As far as he was concerned, it was good for watering cows.
I once had delusions about remodeling my bathroom. I fantasized soaking in the massive white basin, filled with fragrant bubbles, while I read trashy novels and ate bonbons. Like that would ever happen.
Bacon joked about making it into a fish pond. This week his dream came true. I plugged the drain, filled the tub with water, and made a dozen trips to Lowe’s for pond supplies. After three days of work and one emergency call to Cowgirl Crisp (my sister), I am the proud owner of a ginormous goldfish bowl.
crisp |krisp| adjective
