VERTIGO – Part 1


I woke up Friday morning, July 22nd and the room was violently spinning.  There were two of every picture on each wall.  It was terrifying.  I stumbled to the bathroom, holding on to furniture along the way, hoping and praying it would just go away.  It didn’t.  I crawled back into bed and there were still two of every picture.    I felt sick in every cell, horribly nauseous, out of control, wishing I would just die.  Seriously.  I couldn’t live for long with this sickening sensation.  I wandered briefly that even if there was an earthquake I would not be able to move.  Rob wanted to call 911.  But there was no way I could move, sit up, ride in a car, talk, anything - - he made me squeeze his hand and say my name.  Oh, God, in heaven, could it be a stroke?


I fell mercifully asleep and just prayed that everything would be normal when I woke up.  It wasn’t.  There were still two of every picture.   The spinning started up again every time I moved my head.  Somehow, Rob got me in the car and we drove the hellish couple of miles to East Bay Family Practice.  I felt like I was dying with every pothole.  The nurse took my pulse so many times, standing up, walking, sitting down, until I begged to just lie down for a blessed moment.  The pretty young doctor diagnosed it as benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, BPPV.  She explained that the crystals in my inner ear that help govern balance had been dislodged and were free floating in ear fluid.  She left the room with a sober message, “This may take a while to resolve”.   It is still resolving 10 months later.


It was one hell of a weekend.  Did I mention that I am terrified of throwing up?  I read later that this phobia has an actual name, emetophobia.   The most terrifying moment of this whole ordeal was the next day when I got out of bed briefly, walked in the kitchen to get some water and immediately dropped to the floor.  I was writhing, gagging, holding Rob’s strong hand, swallowing it down, determined not to purge.  Thank the good Lord, I didn’t.  I have never felt that nauseous, even after the tequila hookers and shots of Wild Turkey in my college days.  


I slept through most of that nightmare weekend, except the third day, I must confess I mustered up enough energy to go have my hair done.  Vanity wins out, even in the direst of circumstances.  My good husband drove me there and waited as I got color and cut. Poor Rosie looking very worried, asked me to please not “hurl” in her chair.  I’m sure she was relieved to see me go.  I went back to bed for three more days.  At least my hair looked good.


The wild, spinning vertigo part of it went away after four hellish days, but the dizziness has persisted. It is an unsettling, exhausting whirling sensation, kind of like being on permanent vibrate mode on my cell phone.  There was a very weird pressure at the back of my head and base of my neck.  It felt like my head would just roll off at any minute.  It took so much energy to walk, talk, turn my head, shave my legs, vacuum the cat hair, prepare a simple meal . . . basically it took everything I had just to live.  I fell into bed exhausted at the end of the day.  I didn’t drive for months.  Thank God I could ride the “bullet” shuttle from Summit hospital near my house to Alta Bates hospital.  But you have no idea how grateful I was that I could work.  I love going to work.  I love the chaplains.  I love feeling useful.  I will be forever grateful that I worked through the whole ordeal.  Staying home in dizzy isolation would have been unbearable.


Power walking got me through, too.  Power walking is so . . . me . . . . such a major part of my healthy identity.  Oh, dear God, don’t take that away, too.  I will never be able to thank Judith enough as she encouraged me daily to, “get out there, MOVE, don’t coddle it. “  I grabbed my water bottle and put my tennis shoes on and out I went around Lake Merritt and all over Oakland.  I especially liked the long, clean lanes of the cemetery, figuring even if I’m totally off balance, the worst that can happen is I will just fall over.  Unlike driving, I won’t kill anyone.  I can’t begin to describe how much that walking saved me.  It was a part of me that was still there.  I must not be in too bad of shape.  I could still walk . . . for miles.  


Speaking of identity, I would never have never understood how a chronic health issue can affect your self-esteem.  What happened to me?  I’m FUN!  A major part of my identity is wrapped around my passionate interest in life – all the wonderful things to do and be engaged in – going out there and learning, trying new things and introducing my friends and community to my discoveries.  But that was all gone.  I couldn’t do any of that.  Why would anyone want to be around me?  I was sick.  I was creepy.  I was tainted.  In one horrific moment, my health had profoundly changed and I was a different person.  It was lonely.  It messed with my confidence.  I’m dark and scary now.  I’m not fun and lighthearted.  I couldn’t even take the noise in restaurants for God’s sake.  Had I lost that part of myself forever?  


I would look at the picture of Rob and I on our fifteenth anniversary in Paris and I would get sick inside - that was before.  That part of me is gone.   I would look into my own eyes – little did that happy girl know what would happen to her two short years later.