Thursday, November 08, 2007

In Which I Was So Close . . . Where's My Cigar? I was lying there, so close to sleep that I had begun having those surreal delusions of thought that almost made sense but were drifting towards the nonsense of dreams. Then Rob sneezed. Again. And again. Six. Maybe seven times. I turned over. I ignored that part of me that began to wonder if insomnia would now kick in. I counted on my lassitude to overtake me and then I began to fall again. Slowly sinking my way back towards that bliss of oblivion. And Rob got out of bed to go to the bathroom. He blew his nose before returning to bed. I turned over again. I felt like I was suffocating. Unable to breath. Sweating. Tired. And completely unable to fall asleep. It is almost 2am. In the past six days I've had insomnia three times, counting tonight, and had two doctor's appointments. Of course my vertigo is exacerbated as a result. I wish I could sleep. I cannot. I am going to find a book to read. Why not? I clearly have nothing better to do with my time. Sitting up and writing, unfortunately, is not an option. Too bad because I am way behind on my nano word count. Odds are tomorrow I will be too sick to try to write anything coherent. But who knows. Maybe I'll surprise myself. Aries Horoscope for week of November 8, 2007 Read these lines by Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai, translated by Chana Block and Stephen Mitchell: "A flock of sheep near the airport or a high voltage generator beside the orchard: these combinations open up my life like a wound, but they also heal it. That's why my feelings always come in twos." Draw inspiration from this passage. Rather than experiencing the riddles and contradictions of your life merely as painful schisms, think of them also as mysterious unifications.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

In Which You Just Have to Laugh

I read an article yesterday about MIT suing the architect who designed some buildings for them. The architect, Frank Gehry, has designed some very impressive buildings but when I saw the photos of what he did for MIT I realized that, with my vertigo, I would not only have sued him but MIT for commissioning him to do this. I mean, okay, I get it. It is a very interesting design and unconventional but life is hard enough for me now, with my vertigo and all. I don't need to be walking through a life sized Dr. Seuss world.



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.
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.

Monday, November 05, 2007

In Which Relapses Are a Bitch This weekend was spent mostly in bed. Unable to read most of the time. I felt horrible. By Sunday evening, I was feeling better . . . meaning I could read. Oooh. I did no nanowriting. No exercising. Nothing. I was nestled in my bed and can't even tell you what I watched on television because my mind was simply not involved in anything other than trying to ignore tha many signals saying, "You are falling, sliding, slipping, swinging." But the Colts lost. Not that I thought they would not lose a game the entire season but they went up against the only other team that was "undefeated" so far and this was a potentially exciting game as a result. I just really wanted them to win this game. More than any of the other games I had been watching. And it was looking good until something happened and bam! Game over. Colts lost. I wanted to post a pic of our tomatoes but the photo is not coming through. I've sent it from my cell phone to my email three times. Still nothing. Maybe tomorrow. For now I've done enough today and need to lie down.