You haven’t heard from me in a while.
There’s a reason.
The karmic gods decided I needed a really colossal lesson in letting go.
I got it. Oh, did I ever. My long dreamt-of Kenyan safari, to celebrate our sixtieth wedding anniversary, was about to begin on September 3, when we would fly to Switzerland to spend time with our son and his wife, then go on to Nairobi a few days later. We were packed (mostly) and ready to go. But this horrid disease I’d had for nearly two months seemed to be getting worse rather than better; our son cautioned me--“Mom, do you really want to spend this expensive safari in hotel rooms feeling lousy?”
He had a point. And I had a really bad day shortly before we were to leave. So, we made the tough and oh-so-disappointing decision, getting notes from our doctor so we would not lose our money. And we could postpone it to a time when I was okay.
So, you may wonder, what is this disease?
It’s called “vestibular neuronitis.” And as the time-worn cliché states, “I wouldn’t
wish this on my worst enemy.”
It started with a bad case of vertigo in mid-July. My primary care doctor gave me a script for a drug called Meclizine, which is similar to Dramamine. It works somewhat for the dizziness but makes me tired. At another visit, her nurse practitioner suggested I get PT, and wanted me to go for a cardiac consultation. A cardiac consultation? “There’s nothing wrong with my heart,” I told her. Which was just what the cardiologist told me when I finally went a week ago. In fact, she said I had the heart of an athlete.
The PT taught me the Epley maneuver -hanging your head off a pillow, turning it from side to side quickly, 30 seconds a side, then quickly sitting up. That’s a cure for BPPV (benign paroxysmal positional vertigo). It worked, then it didn’t. In a few weeks I was back to attacks of dizziness-no longer vertigo-often accompanied by severe malaise-exhaustion, nausea, headache, and just feeling lousy all over.
That’s the state I was in when we decided to cancel/postpone the safari. And, despite my initial ambivalence, it was the right choice, as I continued to have these episodes. I checked where we’d be on the days I had them and realized my son was absolutely correct, that there was a large possibility I would have missed some of the game drives, Maasai Mara, the Great Rift Valley.
Some tears were shed.
My PT recommended that I see an ENT--made sense. Of course, it took a long time to get one. After I finally did, I arrived at the office promptly at 9:30 only to be told they had no record of my appointment. I told the gatekeeper she was mistaken -she told me I was. I furiously told her she had to find time for me this day as I’d been waiting too long and needed some answers. So, I got squeezed in at noon.
It took him no time to hand me the diagnosis--he looked in my ears and throat, asked me to move my eyes around--asked me my symptoms. Told me there’s really no treatment, and it takes longer to heal in older people. “Read about it,” he said dismissively, getting up to leave.
I’m still no better. Maybe even worse, on the bad days. I’m worried and scared, and that makes the symptoms more intense. At this point, I cannot get in with any doctor, though I’m on a waiting list for an audiogram which the ENT office says I need, and I plan to make an appointment with the wonderful neurologist my husband has seen at UConn.
Oh, and did I mention that we are still in the throes of construction? (https://www.sharoncharde.com/blog/first-floor-bedroom) It got off to a very bad start with a maddening delay given to us courtesy of the excavator who was working for a “bigwig client” according to the concrete guys who finally showed up. So now we are in the final stages, with maybe a few weeks to go, but meanwhile we are still sleeping in the room that needs to have twin beds soon enough for my husband’s nephew who is visiting mid-October with his family. The builders are truly gifted and wonderful--you should see my new closet--but we are more than ready to make the move. Meanwhile I am ordering heating register covers, bedside lamps, setting up consultations for the shades we need now that we’re on the first floor, and pricing the afore-mentioned twin beds. Imagining how long it will take to make the move downstairs--and get used to this huge change.
Also, I have a Mohs surgery for a squamous cell cancer on my face Wednesday. Thankfully, it’s a small lesion, but will take four hours in addition to an hour and a half trip each way trip to UConn in Farmington.
My husband went to the funeral of an old friend yesterday (alone, because I never know how I’m going to feel); another friend has a melanoma which has metastasized. People are dying in Gaza every day-now a middle east war looks possible if not probable. More people will be killed. No one is talking about Sudan and the suffering there. The former president, in his immense cruelty, has found new whipping boys in Ohio, and a whole town is suffering due to his malevolence and narcissistic selfishness. I feel anxiety about the upcoming election every single day.
So, dear friends, it’s not lost on me that this affliction of mine, this loss of balance, may have multiple causes. A friend who does energy healing whooshed her hands over my head a few weeks ago. “Too much stuff crashing around in that head of yours, Sharon,” she said, with a penetrating gaze.
Don’t I know it.
I have a workshop to teach on aging at Wisdom House in a few weeks (https://www.wisdomhouse.org/program-calendar/isnt-it-strange), a four-day writing retreat in RI later in October, and my 60th college reunion right after that. I thought I’d be okay, my old energetic self, for these events but now I’m not so sure. I plan to power through, however, whatever it takes. And I will.
In yesterday’s mail, there was a small package addressed to me. I was puzzled at the return address, didn’t think I had any outstanding orders. Curious, I tore it open and pulled out the tee shirt I’m wearing in this picture, a gift from my daughter-in-law.
If only she knew how perfect a gift it was for right now.
Thank you, Hedi, for making me laugh, and to remember that there is only one sensible way to live one’s life--one day at a time.
Even if there’s a lot going on at the moment.