Spinning, the whole world jumps in spurts. The sound of a waterfall fills my ear, the one that no longer hears. The return of vertigo has left my life hanging. While I wait for diagnosis, feeling like I’m falling, I’m not sure where to grab on.
I’m restless. Caught up on House of Cards and Downton Abbey, I even dusted. That proved a challenge. After five minutes, I got dizzy, head exploding. I rested a few minutes, then dusted again. Too dizzy to work out, too sick to socialize, I’m a downer except when I can find a way to be useful.
I do write a few minutes at a time, get dizzy, lay down a while, but refuse to stop trying. If I stop I’ll lose hope. I can’t go to work, too dizzy. They’re so nice though, telling me to just call, maybe take another leave. I wonder if I’ll ever go back–but then know that I WILL.
Limbo is a great teacher. It reminds me of the shut-ins who live like this all the time. It reminds me of my sister, Minette, who died of a blood clot–but it was truly depression that killed her. Sadness, pills … inactivity.
So I hold onto a wall. Do squats in the hall. Three pushups and rest but at least I’m not laying there letting this happen. There’s little hope in refusing another tumor or unexplained brain swelling, but:
I CAN REFUSE TO BE HELPLESS.
Unsure where to grab hold, I can grasp onto five minutes of creativity, rest, three minutes of exercise, rest, four minutes of dishes. The vertigo interrupts me but at least it’s an interruption, not my life.
Still here, still fighting, I just need a wall or sofa to grab onto.