It was 4:00 am and I was tucked in, when the ceiling hit the floor and the room started to spin. YOW! I shot up as if a puny, mortal howl could bring the cyclone of a spiralling bedroom back down to earth. I flung myself on to the whirling mattress and held on for dear life. It stopped as fast as it started. My eyes opened and I saw stars. An expletive drooled from my lips.
Hello, Vertigo. Back with a bullet for the third time in a month. I should have known that you never left. Between the first two bouts, I was still dizzy when leaning over to smooch my sleeping prince. I’m no princess, I should have known.
Nauseated, I lay in bed, iron-gripping my pillow, weighing my options. There weren’t many. One tilt of my noggin in the wrong direction and I’d be gyrating on the hellish Half-Cups at the “amusement” park of my youth, tortured forever by a notorious public barf, staggering and spewing on solid ground.
It’s not easy staying still, is it. I do not like to rest, but I lay prone for weeks, reading books and watching the clouds float by. I couldn’t write or talk, but oh my people, the tears did flow. After a lengthy dry spell, I was longing to create. Writing this post, I realize what I learned from lying down: I needed a break.
Here’s to happy endings, new beginnings and the year 2014. Thanks to a friend’s referral, I was blessed to be treated by a brilliant, vestibular physiotherapist with boffo bedside manner, who diagnosed me with benign paroxysmal positional vertigo and then kicked its butt out of my inner ear. With my head in his hands, he performed the Epley Maneuver, brought me into the spin and beyond it. He promised he wouldn’t make me puke, and I didn’t. A Christmas miracle for a dizzy Jew.
*It is coming to my attention that many people suffering from vertigo don’t know about the Epley maneuver, so please tell them about it and/or share this post!
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