Just yesterday I was so incredibly happy– almost borderline euphoric– because I felt SO normal! I didn't feel dizzy at all. I did wildly risky things, like bending down to get something from a low cupboard, and standing on a STEP STOOL to get something from up high. With no bad results, no momentary spinning and darkness. I really had an exceedingly normal day. And more so. I had energy. I felt perky.
We had our beloved European Handyman Dietmar here solving the problem of the mouse infested stove. Shortly after we got the new kitchen installed (6 months ago or so), the mice were forced to regroup and redesign their supply routes. I didn't know where they would find a weakness. The found it under the stove. The hole drilled for the gas pipe was ever so slightly larger than the pipe itself. The stove is porous, warm, and a direct conduit to the counter. So… they've been annoying me no end, darting on to the stove top from this little opening under the control panel. I've caught many, many with traps there, but the supply of course is limitless. Sometimes they do something really bold, like steal a noodle or half a sandwich. These I find lying on the stove top near their doorway.
In any case, my mother pointed out to me that besides just being repulsive and filthy, they may actually do damage to the stove by chewing up the wires. This notion galvanized me into action. Suffice it to say that after four hours of the Dietmar treatment this stove is now an impenetrable fortress. Your move, mice.
Thus I was happily occupied all afternoon yesterday, feeling not a whit of dizziness or Meniere's. I also felt rather secure that I would get a 24 hour warning, now that I know to look for it, before I got another attack.
Today brought that into question. Early on I felt a little off. A little of unreality about my footing that one feels aboard a ship on calm seas. Then around 9 or 10 a.m., as Ben and Elias were getting ready to leave for a day at the pool (Isaac already there with Nannie-Pa), I did something like standing up and turning around at the same time and was hammered with severe dizziness. I sat down for a few moments and it passed. Then I found Elias's crocs and got him into the car and there it was again. Boom. Saying goodbye to Ben I felt like crying– here was a beautiful, beautiful day. The day I planned to go to the farmer's market and also, at last, to plant some poor roses that have been sitting in boxes for three weeks. The day I would get some headway on weeding. All washed away by an unwelcome, unheralded return of Meniere's disease.
I think it was actually another attack, although milder and greatly improved by knowing what it was and what to do. I was flattened to the bed for several hours, trying to find a "stationary object" to look at. The vertical lines of the crib beside me, the stripes on the bedding, the rows upon rows of books all made it worse. At times, the whole process of turning over to look at something else seemed incredibly daunting and required detailed planning. The trees outside kept stirring and the purring of the cat, vibrating through the mattress, felt like a semi truck engine idling under me. I felt very nauseated at times and worried about the whole vomiting and being pinned to the floor situation recurring. I was so glad the boys were gone and the house quiet, but slightly frightened to be alone.
I slept for a while and then in a haze decided I was terribly hungry, and sweaty, and depressed to find myself at 3 pm still in my jammies.I decided that a shower and a sandwich would set me right. Like an elderly person I have a newfound dread of falling in the shower. I carry a phone with me everywhere. But mission accomplished– I showered, dressed and ate something. Now I feel weird, surreal, and dizzy if I close my eyes, but I'm sitting up and keying. I aspire to at least opening the boxes of roses and misting them and checking on their condition.
I guess this is what they mean by chronic. It goes away, and you feel normal again, and you think it's gone. And then it comes back.