I’m so dizzy my head is spinning, like a whirlpool, it never ends – Tommy Roe
The morning after my 61st birthday I woke up feeling like I’d had a good night’s sleep and turned my head to the side and as I did so the room seemed to slide into place a second later. ‘That’s weird’ I thought and went to sit up. Then I realised there was something very, very wrong. The room spun about me at a rapid pace, like I was on some dizzy-making, vomit inducing, fairground ride. Just for the record, I had no alcohol the night before! It’s now day 10 of my trip with ‘benign, paroxysmal, positional vertigo’ and I’m having to rearrange appointments and plans to accommodate the fact that I can’t drive until I’ve recovered. As with everything in life that I don’t understand, I have thrown myself into research this week and have come to the conclusion this was triggered by using a Power Plate at the gym, given that I had no illness or other possible trauma to the inner ear to explain it. I found a case of a woman who had the same thing happen to her and a research paper confirming the likelihood of Power Plates being a risk factor for this condition. I’ve also found a specialist who has written a book with exercises to sort this condition by retraining the brain, so fingers crossed this will work as well for me as it has with his other patients.
This is the reason last week has no blog posts. I didn’t forget, and they haven’t gone missing, I was just busy ‘tripping’. I’m writing this while Zippy, my corn snake is using me as a climbing frame. We have a close bond, Zippy and I, ever since I saved her when she was the size of a mere worm from starvation, by force-feeding. The last resort and distressing process for both of us, but she was weak and at death’s door, and I wasn’t about to stand there and watch her die of starvation. She’s 14 years old now, and we are best buddies. Outside my open window, my German shepherd is gobbing off at next door’s cat, who from the vantage point of a garage roof is looking down at her with an ‘oh yeah, you and whose army?’ expression on her face. My dog fancies herself as Wonder Dog, facing down the enemy with a death stare and low growl. Any sparrows that have the temerity to invade our airspace will find themselves chased, but never bitten, in dramatic fashion by a dog making a huffing sound like some crusty old bloke complaining about impertinent youth. Her deep voice has been enough to terrify the living daylights of some delivery guys, who have dropped the package and run, even though my dog couldn’t reach them. She is a big old softie really when you get to know her, and a game of catching bubbles is the way to her heart.