Dizzy Brunette

When I woke up last Thursday morning I felt as if I were coming out of anesthesia, or as though I'd been to an extremely wild party the night before, neither of which was the case. I felt a little better during and after my morning swim, but still a bit askew. (This was really the reason why I didn't join Miss B in riding the slide at Small's Falls: the water was indeed much higher with a much stronger current than we'd seen them before, but quite a few people were happily frolicking in it. With my sense of balance off and the world tending to spin at odd intervals, it just didn't seem like a good time for me to be one of them.)

I figured it might have been something I'd eaten, or an oddity in my medication (could I have taken an extra dose and not remembered it? I didn't think so, but stranger things have happened), but when the condition persisted after we got home I began to worry a bit, and when I couldn't even turn my head this morning without setting off the merry-go-round effect, it was time to visit the doctor.

After asking me a few questions (any changes in medication? no; any other drugs or alcohol? no), he put a pillow behind me and had me lie back as fast as I could and turn my head to the left. "Dizzy?" he asked.
"Yes, a little," I said.
He had me sit up again and do the same thing once more, but this time turning my head to the right. "Whoa, yeah," I said as soon as my head hit the examining table. He told me to stay put until everything stopped moving, which took a while this time, but eventually I sat up and he smiled at me.
"You have benign positional vertigo," he said, handing me a sheet of paper. "Do this exercise three times a day and you should be fine in a few days." The exercise is to do the lying-down thing, wait for equilibrium to return, then roll to the left and sit up sideways.

I was pretty amazed at this — not to mention relieved, since I'd been wondering in the back of my swimmy head if I had malignant positional vertigo, or at any rate malignant something — I'd been expecting to be poked and prodded and unnervingly tested and, if lucky, prescribed yet more medication. Who knew such a thing existed, or that the treatment would be so simple? Apparently it can happen on either side, and the cause is unknown. With luck I'll be much improved by Monday, as staggering about the office doesn't usually inspire one's boss's confidence.

It would also be nice to be able to knit without having to stop after every few stitches.

With that happy thought in mind, I present some more flowers from Rangeley.





Have a great weekend, everyone!