It’s 9:30 in the morning—about five hours past the time when I like to be here. I’m still in bed, but I should be on the way to get my hair done. I’ve made a couple of phone calls and sent a couple of texts to cancel and reschedule a few things. I’m sitting very still and doing my best not to move my head.
One word: vertigo. And vertigo’s close companion: nausea.
I knew the second I surfaced this morning that I had it again. It’s the worst possible time for it to show up (there is no good time for this menace, but I’ve got some major stuff happening later this week and vertigo is not part of the plan).
If you haven’t had it, I don’t think you can appreciate the impact of something that sounds unpleasant, but is still relatively benign. I certainly didn’t understand what it was like before I experienced it for the first time three years ago. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming, and just plain awful.
Last time it took me out for weeks. I’m praying for a fraction of that so it doesn’t impact plans we made months ago. I covet your prayers.