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.


Love,

SUAR 

 

16 comments:

  1. That’s a lot…I’m so sorry…❤️

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  2. I'm so sorry for your loss.

    Wishing you a speedy and full recovery. Not the end of the world, but certainly no fun.

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  3. "Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that you were feeling so ill! It's interesting how our bodies can sometimes surprise us like that, especially when we least expect it. I can definitely relate to having a designated "puke bucket" at home, as it's something that many of us have probably experienced with our kids or even ourselves. I'm glad that you were able to feel better after taking some Nuun, and I hope you've fully recovered since then!" - Vistadome Train

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  4. Thinking of you and your family! I’m sorry for your loss and am glad you were able to spend some quality time with her. I’m also sorry you are dealing with vertigo- it’s nasty crap. I went through it while my husband was deployed n the kids were young so long ago but I remember it vividly. I hope you get some relief and that it’s just the crystals out of whack. Mine came on with a double ear infection that I had no clue I had. Hugs and prayers!!!

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  5. I'm so sorry you're going through all this. The vertigo would drive me crazy. Your MIL passing is sad and unfair. That you can't run much less drive is just plain cruel. I suppose there's a lesson here, but did you really need one? Hang in there, my friend. Hugs and all that stuff. Wish I had a magic wand.

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  6. So sorry for your loss and the sickness sucks to boot. Sending you prayers and virtual hugs.

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  7. You are going through a lot! I'm sorry you're so sick, I can't imagine being so ill. And I'm terribly sorry for the loss of your MIL. Strangely, there are several other people in the Denver/CO area that have had vertigo spells this year. What is up with that? Hugs and love to you and your family. I hope you are well and back on the trail/road soon.

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  8. That's a lot. Vertigo is awful. I'm sorry for your loss...

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  9. Hi there. I am sorry for this difficult time for you and your family. I also had sudden onset vertigo about a year ago, along with hot flashes, jaw pain, horrible joint pain … menopause. I’ve been trying bioidentical hormone replacement therapy for about 8 months. My vertigo was gone within two weeks, and the jaw pain and hot flashes within a month or two. I hope it might help you, too. My gyno was no help — told me it was part of life, so I signed up for a telemedicine program (not covered by insurance) that specializes in treating menopause.

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  10. That all sucks. Sending hugs. My wife has had vertigo spells, but nothing as bad as yours. It comes and goes. Hang in there.

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  11. Lurker here and just wanted to say sorry for the loss of your MIL, and for your medical struggles. An acquaintance of mine had a similar problem with vertigo (couldn't drive, couldn't walk without holding on to something, etc...). After multiple attempts at figuring out what was wrong she finally got relief through some kind of visual therapy with exercises to retrain how her brain and eyes communicated. Thought I'd mention it in case that hasn't been investigated yet.

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    1. Thank you!! Yes I am going to start vetsibular PT and probably vision therapy too. I'm glad she got some relief!

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  12. So sorry 😔 I don’t know what else to say

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  13. Omg!!! You’re back. I was so happy to see this post in my FB feed. I signed up for the email posts. I am so sorry to hear about the Vertigo and Ken’s mom.

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  14. My sympathies.

    For the vertigo, many claim the Eppley procedure works for them. It’s easy to do. Just google it. :). Best, sue

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    1. Thanks Sue. My vertigo hasn't responded to the Epley because it is vestibular neuritis (not displaced crystals). I wish it worked!

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