My doctor's office was able to work me in for an appointment the very next day. “Wonderful,” I thought! I already felt somewhat relieved that I was about to have some light shed on this mysterious experience. Thursday came, by which time I was starting to feel a bit less like I was living in a fun house, though I was still dizzy and my stomach continued to be disagreeable. I still wasn’t eating much, but at least I wasn’t throwing anything up either.
When Nick came home from work, we hopped in the car. I was a tad anxious about the car ride, worried that the motion might trigger another puke-fest all over the floor of my nice Thunderbird. But we made it to the doctors’ office without an incident and Nick and I sat patiently in the waiting room, eager to find out what the devil was going on.
When the doctor came into the exam room he reviewed my symptoms and did a quick physical exam while I detailed the last four days. "Is it possible you're pregnant," he then asked?
Truth be told, that was one of the first things that crossed my mind too. However I assured him it was unlikely as I had already taken two pregnancy tests at home with negative results and hadn't missed any periods. He agreed pregnancy was unlikely and threw out a few other ideas....inner ear disturbance, some kind of virus, possible B-12 deficiency. He drew some blood, said he would run some tests and get back to me.
A week later, the results were in. Everything was normal. He went on to explain that "sometimes these things happen and they tend to resolve themselves, I really wouldn't worry about it". That sounded like a very pacifying way of saying "I don't know" to me. But, he's the medical professional. Surely he wouldn't send me on my way if there was truly something to be concerned about. And I was starting to feel better. Maybe I really shouldn't worry about it.
A week passed. While the vertigo seemed to have subsided and I felt decent enough to return to work, I was still constantly dizzy and felt mildly nauseated most of the time. I was also unusually tired. Something was just not right. I decided to get a second opinion and made an appointment with another doctor in our neighborhood, opting for a woman this time in hopes of a bit more consideration.
After hearing my account of the last couple weeks, Dr. McLady* believed it likely I was having a silent migraine, which is a migraine without the headache. I hadn't heard of this before, but she assured me they were quite common and can sometimes be accompanied by the symptoms I had been experiencing. She also assured me this was very easily treatable and recommended a course of low-dose Valium to be taken consistently for two weeks.
Well this was certainly a step ahead of Dr.Don't Worry About It and sounded like it could be progress. I started the treatment and two weeks later....(drum roll please)....I was feeling exactly the same. The only change I noticed was the increase in my frustration.
When I explained this at my follow up visit, Dr. McLady admitted she wasn't sure what was going on, but referred me to an otolaryngologist (ENT) who specialized in dizziness. I was growing weary at this point, but supposed this guy was worth a try. Third time's a charm, perhaps?
When I called to schedule an appointment with Dr. Dizzy*, I was informed his soonest opening was in a month. A month?? I had already spent a month getting nowhere and I was none too keen on waiting another. The receptionist explained that Dr. Dizzy came highly recommended and assured me that he was worth the wait. I supposed if this guy really was the Gregory House of otolaryngology then it was probably in my best interest to see him. Feeling slightly defeated, I scheduled the appointment for the last week in April.
*Names have been changed to protect the imperceptive.
Showing posts with label vertigo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vertigo. Show all posts
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Beginning - Part 3
March 7, 2006
Despite my hopes, I didn’t wake up feeling right as rain. Quite the contrary, in fact. While the vertigo had calmed itself down to a dull roar, I still had zero equilibrium. I could sit up in bed with minimal trouble, but getting out of it was another situation entirely. The instant I attempted to stand, I hit the floor. My head still felt like it was made of lead, heavy and being pulled downward. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t walk. I was a marionette whose strings had been cut.
The thing about being in a situation like this is that you really learn a lot about your relationships. And yourself. I needed help with everything. I was powerless to even get myself to the bathroom, having to swallow yet another gulp of pride and allow Nick to haul me in there, help me get my pants down and place me on the seat. I was able to hang onto the bathroom counter for support, so I’d make Nick leave the room while I attended to business. He would then return to get me up again, help get my pants up and get me back in bed. At 26 years old, this experience was about as humbling as it gets.
But Nick did it without hesitation and without question, and with more love than I could have possibly imagined. He didn’t think, he just acted out of pure reflex. I needed him and, as far as he was concerned, that was all the reason he needed to spring into action; action that was driven by love and devotion.
It wasn’t until years later, when I was helping Nick with similar activities after his knee replacement surgery, that I fully understood this. I knew Nick loved me more than anything, but I don’t know that I thoroughly understood how deep that devotion went. Perhaps he didn't either. This experience revealed strengths that I don't think either of us knew we had and it illuminated what was truly important to us....each other.
By Wednesday my equilibrium had more or less returned. I could walk around the house if I had a wall or chair on which to steady myself. My boss advised me to take the rest of the week off work, for which I was extremely grateful. I was still very weak and unsteady and still experiencing small bouts of vertigo. The episodes were brief, but would have been dangerous were they to occur behind the wheel of a car; I was grateful for the time to rest and recuperate. But one question still remained….what the hell caused this?
That afternoon, I called my doctor.
Despite my hopes, I didn’t wake up feeling right as rain. Quite the contrary, in fact. While the vertigo had calmed itself down to a dull roar, I still had zero equilibrium. I could sit up in bed with minimal trouble, but getting out of it was another situation entirely. The instant I attempted to stand, I hit the floor. My head still felt like it was made of lead, heavy and being pulled downward. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t walk. I was a marionette whose strings had been cut.
The thing about being in a situation like this is that you really learn a lot about your relationships. And yourself. I needed help with everything. I was powerless to even get myself to the bathroom, having to swallow yet another gulp of pride and allow Nick to haul me in there, help me get my pants down and place me on the seat. I was able to hang onto the bathroom counter for support, so I’d make Nick leave the room while I attended to business. He would then return to get me up again, help get my pants up and get me back in bed. At 26 years old, this experience was about as humbling as it gets.
But Nick did it without hesitation and without question, and with more love than I could have possibly imagined. He didn’t think, he just acted out of pure reflex. I needed him and, as far as he was concerned, that was all the reason he needed to spring into action; action that was driven by love and devotion.
It wasn’t until years later, when I was helping Nick with similar activities after his knee replacement surgery, that I fully understood this. I knew Nick loved me more than anything, but I don’t know that I thoroughly understood how deep that devotion went. Perhaps he didn't either. This experience revealed strengths that I don't think either of us knew we had and it illuminated what was truly important to us....each other.
By Wednesday my equilibrium had more or less returned. I could walk around the house if I had a wall or chair on which to steady myself. My boss advised me to take the rest of the week off work, for which I was extremely grateful. I was still very weak and unsteady and still experiencing small bouts of vertigo. The episodes were brief, but would have been dangerous were they to occur behind the wheel of a car; I was grateful for the time to rest and recuperate. But one question still remained….what the hell caused this?
That afternoon, I called my doctor.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Beginning - Part 2
March 6, 2006
It was a Monday and my alarm went off at 6:00am as usual. I reluctantly flung off the blankets, swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Immediately the room began to spin. The entire world around me was moving and moving fast. I thought perhaps I sat up too quickly and tried to sit still and just breath, thinking this would pass. And then the nausea hit. I needed to get across the hall to the bathroom pronto, but as soon as I stood up I hit the floor. My equilibrium was gone and I had no sense of orientation. I couldn't tell up from down, left from right. And the world around me kept spinning and spinning. The walls, the furniture, the floor...everything was in motion; it was like being in a fun house. This was beyond dizziness, this was full-on vertigo. I had no control and I was terrified.
I somehow managed to crawl my way to the bathroom (hitting my head on a few door jams along the way) and made it just in time for the vomiting to begin. My head felt extremely heavy, as if it was being pulled to the ground by some invisible magnet; I couldn't keep it upright and had to let it rest on my arm. I sat on the floor, clutching the toilet to keep myself from tipping over and called for my husband between retches.
Nick came running. When I was finally able to gasp my breath I explained to him what was going on and asked for some crackers and soda. Just something, anything that might calm my stomach. But the vertigo was not letting up and the vomiting continued for another hour. The crackers and soda became something to force down just so I had something besides stomach acid to throw up. I finally asked Nick to call work and let them know I was not coming in today. I had never been sick like this before and it was concerning enough to Nick that he took the day off work as well.
And it's a good thing he did. The vertigo and the vomiting continued for nearly 8 straight hours that day. I puked my guts out almost non-stop all day while the world around me remained in perpetual motion. I was cold, shaking and so weak. And I was scared. What the hell was happening to me?
Nick spent the day on the phone with our doctors office attempting to get a prescription for something that could stop this. At long last a prescription was called in for Promethagan, which is a suppository form of Phenegran (a very common anti-nausea drug). Now were someone to suggest a suppository to me at any other point in my life...ever...I would have told them to shove it up their...well, you know. But I couldn't keep half a cracker down for more than 10 minutes, let alone a pill. This was the only way in, so to speak. And at that point, I would have done just about anything to end this hell. Dignity be damned, I welcomed the ass pill.
Thankfully, it worked. It stopped the puking and, as a most welcome side effect, knocked me out. Which meant the vertigo stopped (Halle-freakin'-lujah!), though my balance and equilibrium hadn't quite returned yet. I vaguely remember Nick half-carrying me to bed and changing my clothes. I was so exhausted and so completely out of my skull that Elvis, The Pope and Tori Spelling could have shown up in my bedroom, in a canoe and wearing coordinating lingerie, and I probably wouldn't have noticed.
What I do remember was the deep concern on Nick's face, and my repeated assurances to him that I was okay. I wasn't completely convinced of that myself; the reassurance was as much for me as it was for him. But I was feeling grateful. Grateful for my husband who was there for me through this dreadful day, and for the magical medicine that brought it all to an end. I prayed that it was, in fact, at an end and that I would wake up tomorrow feeling right as rain.
It was a Monday and my alarm went off at 6:00am as usual. I reluctantly flung off the blankets, swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Immediately the room began to spin. The entire world around me was moving and moving fast. I thought perhaps I sat up too quickly and tried to sit still and just breath, thinking this would pass. And then the nausea hit. I needed to get across the hall to the bathroom pronto, but as soon as I stood up I hit the floor. My equilibrium was gone and I had no sense of orientation. I couldn't tell up from down, left from right. And the world around me kept spinning and spinning. The walls, the furniture, the floor...everything was in motion; it was like being in a fun house. This was beyond dizziness, this was full-on vertigo. I had no control and I was terrified.
I somehow managed to crawl my way to the bathroom (hitting my head on a few door jams along the way) and made it just in time for the vomiting to begin. My head felt extremely heavy, as if it was being pulled to the ground by some invisible magnet; I couldn't keep it upright and had to let it rest on my arm. I sat on the floor, clutching the toilet to keep myself from tipping over and called for my husband between retches.
Nick came running. When I was finally able to gasp my breath I explained to him what was going on and asked for some crackers and soda. Just something, anything that might calm my stomach. But the vertigo was not letting up and the vomiting continued for another hour. The crackers and soda became something to force down just so I had something besides stomach acid to throw up. I finally asked Nick to call work and let them know I was not coming in today. I had never been sick like this before and it was concerning enough to Nick that he took the day off work as well.
And it's a good thing he did. The vertigo and the vomiting continued for nearly 8 straight hours that day. I puked my guts out almost non-stop all day while the world around me remained in perpetual motion. I was cold, shaking and so weak. And I was scared. What the hell was happening to me?
Nick spent the day on the phone with our doctors office attempting to get a prescription for something that could stop this. At long last a prescription was called in for Promethagan, which is a suppository form of Phenegran (a very common anti-nausea drug). Now were someone to suggest a suppository to me at any other point in my life...ever...I would have told them to shove it up their...well, you know. But I couldn't keep half a cracker down for more than 10 minutes, let alone a pill. This was the only way in, so to speak. And at that point, I would have done just about anything to end this hell. Dignity be damned, I welcomed the ass pill.
Thankfully, it worked. It stopped the puking and, as a most welcome side effect, knocked me out. Which meant the vertigo stopped (Halle-freakin'-lujah!), though my balance and equilibrium hadn't quite returned yet. I vaguely remember Nick half-carrying me to bed and changing my clothes. I was so exhausted and so completely out of my skull that Elvis, The Pope and Tori Spelling could have shown up in my bedroom, in a canoe and wearing coordinating lingerie, and I probably wouldn't have noticed.
What I do remember was the deep concern on Nick's face, and my repeated assurances to him that I was okay. I wasn't completely convinced of that myself; the reassurance was as much for me as it was for him. But I was feeling grateful. Grateful for my husband who was there for me through this dreadful day, and for the magical medicine that brought it all to an end. I prayed that it was, in fact, at an end and that I would wake up tomorrow feeling right as rain.
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