... draped over the fender, all was not well
It was a Tuesday morning early in January 2008 and I was on my way to work.
The pavement in the parking lot was clear but all was not well. Without warning, I performed one of those ridiculous little "dances" to keep from falling. I ended up draped over the fender of a parked car, feeling safe but foolish.
It was still a fairly long walk to the office building and I did not think I could manage it because I felt dizzy and light-headed. I assumed my best streetwalker stance, leaning up against the solid car. Eventually a kind-looking middle-aged man came along and I asked if he would escort me to the building, since I felt dizzy. He was only too happy to help. En route, I learned that he has five adult sons and no daughters. However, the sons did give him several granddaughters.
Once in the office I felt safe but still a bit light-headed. My equilibrium had deserted me. At the end of the day I confessed how I felt to Dan, my boss, who walked the length of the parking lot and retrieved my car.
The next day was a Wednesday, which means that I attend the weekly Knitting Club gathering. Although I parked close to Jane's building, I did not feel confident enough to walk to her door unaided, so I took my walker from the back seat and used that. My dear knitting friends were upset and concerned about me. When I got home I phoned Dan and told him I didn't feel like going to work. "So, don't," he replied. Instead, I stayed at home and made an appointment with the nurse practitioner in my doctor's office for 1:45 the next day.
I reported that to Dan by phone. He said, "I don't want you driving. I'll pick you up at 9 o'clock tomorrow and take you to the appointment." And that's what happened. He brought along some work and waited in the doctor's reception area, being productive all the while. The nurse suspected I had benign positional vertigo, which is what it turned out to be. Dan and I drove back to the office, got more work accomplished, and then he delivered me home. Again on Friday he picked me up and took me home at the end of the day.
I took the prescribed antihistamine daily. Gradually the dizziness subsided and I felt more in contact with terra firma than I had for a week. Walking across my kitchen floor was no longer a scary event. In the meantime, I had to undergo an MRI of my brain, just to make sure. Before the test, the technician asked what kind of music I prefer. "Classical," I responded. "How would you like to listen to Vivaldi's Four Seasons?" she asked. I said that would be fine.
When the test was over I commented, "That wasn't bad, but the music was a waste. It sounded as though workers were drilling a sidewalk just outside my head and I couldn't hear the music. Thanks, anyway." The MRI showed nothing amiss. Now it's on to the next adventure.
May 2, 2008