Vertigo is for real. And it's like being pregnant. Once you are diagnosed with vertigo, it's everywhere, everyone's had it and somehow you'd never noticed. Anyway, the nausea and dizziness lasted and lasted. The first day I recall feeling nausea was April 20. It was June before I could sit up in the morning without thinking about it. That is a long time not to turn your head when someone calls your name. Or says "Momma" twelve times before breakfast.
So, I have obviously forgotten some of my own hardship, because today, three surgeries, two series of radiation treatments and sixteen weeks of chemo later, the veritgo sticks in my mind as the worst. It wasn't - the chemo was awful, but at least they gave me medicine for the nausea rather than exercises!
So, April, May and the start of June were pretty rough for me. My anxiety and uncertainty were also fairly substantial challenges.
With a little coaxing and a little rebalancing, I am finding my footing. I am sleeping through two and five am, frequent companions over the past few months. I am eating something closer to a few small meals a day. I can think about movement and exercise without doubling over.
I consolidated my next set of tests into the month of August. The goal was to consolidate the worry. It didn't work. I was never much of a worrier about aches, but it seems I've become a hypochondriac.
Everyday, I am legitimately convinced the itchy eye is a sign of a brain tumor, my lower back ache is a liver or kidney tumor or my ankle ache is a tumor. I raise these ailments with Jim, a new one almost everyday. He was never high in empathy and he is not a big fan of these new concerns.
And I was writing this blog to say, I am fine. I am working. I am playing with the kids. I am getting out of the house with Jim. Over the past few weeks, it's been a comedy show, concert, movie, musical, dinner with friends. So, I must be fine. Active, tired, challenged, engaged, not thinking about dying everyday or even every other day.
I must be feeling better. I went to the dentist today. Who does that with vertigo?
Fourth of July at home in Washington. The following week in Chicago. Then a business trip. Then Ian turns two. Can you believe it? Two. But still whispers the sweetest "Momma," you'll ever hear.
