WHO NEEDS SIX FLAGS WHEN YOU HAVE A TILT-A-WHIRL IN YOUR HEAD

I bellied up to the bar, leaned in toward my favorite bartender and ordered an old-fashioned, a Kamikaze, a Bazooka Joe and for good measure… a Jägerbomb. Thanks Coach. I’m hanging with Cliff, Woody, Sam and Diane. There’s Norm in his usual spot. Lillith and Carla just arriving. All us regulars. Then I pipe up, “drinks on the house!”

Mind you this was all happening while sound asleep.

That said, when daylight arrived I woke to a whirling, swimming, pinwheeling sensation. I knew it couldn’t possibly be alcohol related cause of the ZZZZZZZZZZ’s. As a matter of fact, it had been decades since my bout with a dixie-cup-full of Boone’s Farm and lemonade. And my recent run ins with the hard stuff are far and few between… consisting of an occasional tequila (for which I have notes in my phone in case I forget what to order – Casamigos Reposado on the rocks lime) and intermittent rosé (still).

But I was beyond dizzy.

With the room spinning… or more precisely swirling inside my head …I crawled my way, hand-hand-knee-knee-hand-hand-knee-knee, inch by inch, to ultimately heave myself onto the “pot”. And there I waited for the dizzy to subside. And waited. And waited some more.

At some point I managed to crawl my way (hand-hand-knee-knee-hand-hand-knee-knee) back to bed where I longingly awaited some waning of intensity. With my patience wearing thin, I tested out various positions… flat on my back, on my stomach, my side/sitting up/leaning back and for good measure – fetal. It just turned out to be a series of that’s worse, wors-er, WORS-EST.

Far worse-er than the time I encouraged my children to join me on my best-loved ride at a county fair only to discover midway through – no longer a favorite. Blech…

An outing to Urgent Care was strongly advised  where after blood pressure and EKG I was subjected to thorough analysis of my  cognitive competency . SMILE – LIFT YOUR EYEBROWS – PUFF OUT YOUR CHEEKS – FINGER TO NOSE TO FINGER TO NOSE TO FINGER TO NOSE… happy to report my finger never made its way into my nose!

A “suggested” next step to the ER – coupled with recalling how I still hadn’t organized my photos for future generations – sent my mind seriously reeling and spiraling.

IT WAS NOT PRETTY

Arriving at an overflowing ER situation, my hubby grabbed two vacant seats while I scrutinized the various stages of discomfort. Which amounted to a variety of miserable, listless, ailing folk mostly gawking at their phones.

Funnily enough I was more affected by the decorating scheme.

Could the paint color choice have been more nauseously tinged? See above: miserable, listless, ailing. Why not incorporate some greenery; plants have been proven to reduce stress and boost moods. That sounds like a win-win to me. How about calmative music to enhance the ambience… or liven up the joint with some Bruno Mars. SOMETHING!

And THAT is what I focused on…  until a nurse approached me with the SMILE – LIFT YOUR EYEBROWS – PUFF OUT YOUR CHEEKS -FINGER TO NOSE TO FINGER TO NOSE FINGER TO NOSE once-over. Again.

With the merry-go-round still circulating in my head, we were moved to the overflow area, which turned out to have far better people watching. For example: the gentleman who upon arrival withdrew a sandwich and a blue blanket from an assortment of bags, then casually draped the full-sized blanket over his entire body… including his head. I could see that he was eating under there. And there he stayed. And we kept watch.

When I headed off to triage for some blood work I wondered if he would emerge by the time I returned. Nope. He was still snuggled beneath. We were obsessed.

While counting the minutes till his reemergence, we were distressed to find out it would be another 7-9 HOURS just to get a room… NOOOOOOOOO. SEE THIS IS WHERE THE SMATTERING OF PLANTS WOULD HAVE COME IN HANDY. Calming soothing greenery. Or cue some Led Zepellin for some needed headbanging!!!!!

My husband periodically, and delicately, broached plan B – to hightail it outta there. But since I had convinced myself (WebMD) I was indeed on my last leg (WebMD) I thought we should wait it out (WebMD). But finally, I concurred. It’s hard to admit my husband trumped WebMD… you were right honey (said with strained effort).

Next morning, my doc diagnosed all that swirling as benign paroxysmal positional vertigo (BPPV). That darn vestibular system and those wacky crystals were causing major havoc! But I wasn’t doomed. AND I could do something about it. Something called, VESTIBULAR THERAPY.

NO LONGER TIPSY-ING OVER

Never having heard of vestibular therapy, I highly recommend it for us mature types (vertigo or no vertigo). IT’S BALANCE PEOPLE!! And did I ever find a gem of a place: FYZICAL Therapy & Balance Center.

Entering the bright space I was greeted by an adorable man with personality-plus. My physical therapist provided a comprehensive evaluation – and then the work began. Ooooo, I had no idea massage would be involved – OH YES! And some work with a Theragun. “A little to the left and down… yes, yes YEESSSSS.”

Then came the crazy stuff where you move your head every which way. All while standing still, rocking side-to-side or front-to-back. Sometimes with ones eyes closed. Sometimes within a foot of a giant screen where a guided tour of Paris is shifting, traversing and kinetic.

It’s akin to rubbing your head while patting your stomach or is it patting your head while rubbing your stomach? I guess I’m still a bit dizzy…

… sounds FUN, right?

It was all made FUN by this peach of a place filled with an entire team of caring, attentive, intuitive, amazing therapists and human beings. From day one it was a rousing and echoing, “hi Karen”, from one and all. Each and every time.

I am pleased to say that improvement from my first evaluation to my “graduation” day was undeniable (and the certificate I received and warm goodbye’s got me a bit teary-eyed). I am an emotional human, okay?!

Without a doubt, if FYZICAL was a bar I would become a regular…

… ‘cause just like that popular TV show – it’s a place where “EVERYBODY knows your name.” And stumbling, tipping over or losing one’s footing never elicits judgment. 😉

~ featured image via Daryl Mitchell from Saskatoon, Canada, CC BT-SA, 2.0