Satia, I am so glad you came into my office today because I just read this article in a journal and I want you to do something for me. Bend over and put your head between your knees. Now, start singing Vertigo by U2. Do this three times a day for five minutes. You will be, guaranteed, cured in two days. I promise.Needless to say that didn't happen. What he did say, however, is that he would see what he could do about getting me into the Emory research facility I've been trying to get my former neurologist to get me into since April. He also suggested that the Mayo Clinic may have something. So there is hope? Not much but yes. I have to first see it to believe it and right now I am looking at my reality. I have been suffering from vertigo for eleven months and six days. It is hard to feel hopeful that something that has lasted nearly a year with absolutely no diagnosis will go away as quickly and easily as it came. But I am still seeking answers. I have a list of herbs from my mother's bestest friend; I have a recommendation from a friend of mine whose fiance has a friend who has vertigo who tried these pills; I have a list of foods to remove from my diet. And I have an acupuncture appointment tomorrow. I don't surrender easily. I find it hard to give up. There is hope. It is small, dim, hard to discern. And when you have no answers, hope not the last thing you have. The Bible says, and I have learned, that hope, faith and charity are the three greatest things . . . and the greatest of these is charity--love--compassion. Hope falls away. Faith falls away. Love remains.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
In Which There Are No Answers I was chatting with someone yesterday about my vertigo. I delineated the things which are no longer possible for me, how my life has been changed, even compromised. I also talked about the spiritual lessons and the truths about myself I've had to face as a result of this still undiagnosed condition. Today I saw the neurologist and I think I had hoped he would perform a miracle. Not a walk on water, turn water into wine, type. After all, that's been done and who cares if he can walk on water. I'd like to walk a straight line on solid ground for a few days again. No. What I had hoped is that he would skim through the pages and pages of notes and have an epiphany.