Monday, April 3, 2023

Life is Hard. RIP.

 19 days ago, I stood up from my desk at 4:30 pm and almost fell over. As I stumbled around the kitchen like Annie (Kristen Wiig) on the plane going to Vegas in Bridesmaids, Ken told me to lay down and have some Nuun. I did it because I am subservient and in a couple hours felt better. Fast forward to 7am the next morning and you could find me flat on my back in my dark bedroom with a bucket by my head. The same white vessel we named the “puke bucket” for our kids when they were young. I'm sure every home has one designated barf container. 

Mother fucker

What was happening to me? Was I pregnant despite Ken's vasectomy and my 56-year-old eggs? Did I have a brain tumor like WebMD said?

Well, no. It was apparently a sudden onset of vertigo. Imagine not being able to move your head without the spins or having literally crawl to the bathroom. Imagine that every little sound, smell or movement made you want to vomit. Literally, I could smell Ken microwaving chicken noodle soup downstairs and wanted to hurl. Stupid.

Annie is perplexed.

Never did I think it would last this long, as we close into 3 weeks of this bullshit. I am no longer carrying the bucket around, but the dizziness is still my constant companion and I can’t drive or needless to say, RUN. My head is heavy and my brain is foggy.

Let’s increase the sadness factor here. On the very early morning of March 27, Ken woke me up and said, “My mom died.” We had gone to bed that night and knew she had gone into the hospital and was in ICU but the news came as a shock.

So, soberly (in the sense that we are sad but not in the sense that I stopped drinking wine) we are headed to Florida in the morning for a funeral and internment. Peg, my mother-in-law, was a decent, sweet, funny and pious woman. She “saw the eye of God” in her last hours and I hope this brought her peace in those final moments. I like to believe it really did.

These three weeks have taught me some things about patience, vulnerability and acceptance. When you are reduced to such sadness and when you can hardly do much for yourself, you get clear on what is important real fast. Not running sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. What is the end of the world is not being able to walk your dog for a minute in the sunshine or talk to your mom or best friend on the phone because you feel too nauseous. What sucks is your brain being so mixed up that you can’t track a thought or put on your socks.

Two ENTS, a chiropractor and my primary doc later, there is no clear diagnosis. I just have to wait it out. Maybe it’s BPPV (crystals in ear) or vestibular neuritis (inflamed nerve in the inner ear). We’ve tried all the meds and the maneuvers and now I’m just sitting here trying to not resist what is. The struggle comes in not accepting where you are, right?

I’m grateful we visited Florida in February before Peg was so sick and to have a few laughs and meals with her. Wednesday we will say our final goodbye and whether I’m dizzy or not, I’ll be there to take it all in and to honor her memory and the amazing mom she’s been to my husband and the devoted grandma she’s been to my kids. I won’t run while I’m there And you know what? Who cares. Running is my passion and what I love to do but it’s not everything.