Ménière’s Part 2:One Fixed Point

The Ménière’s episode that began in the early morning of Thursday, May 11, 2006, lasted about ten hours. Here’s the second half of it as I lived it. After I vomit until my stomach clenches from emptiness, I crawl back into the kitchen . . .

 . . . reach up for countertop . . . grab hold . . . pull upright . . . stare at clock . . . numbers repeat . . . repeat . . . each number over and over . . . try to fix one number . . . try to find one fixed point . . . in midst of motion . . . can’t do it . . . can’t do it . . . can’t do it . . . concentrate on finding clock hands . . . can’t do it . . . can’t . . . can’t . . . try, Dee . . . try . . . figure it out . . . one hand on two numbers . . . 1 . . . 2 . . . what does this mean? . . . 1 . . . 2 . . . together . . . means something . . . don’t know what . . . 1 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . and . . . 2 . . . yes . . . 1 . . . and . . . 2 . . . thought comes . . . twelve . . . 1 . . . and . . . 2 . . . is twelve . . . twelve means something . . . means something . . . something . . . dark . . . midnight . . . 12 means midnight . . .  I can think . . . I made a thought . . . my mind’s working . . . look down . . . nausea . . . look to side . . . bile . . . tears . . . snot . . . hear cry . . . help me, God, please help me . . . hear laughter . . . I’m laughing . . . inane . . . bedtime, didn’t believe in personal God . . . think . . .  Dee, it’s true . . . no atheists in foxholes . . . brain working . . . let go of counter . . . fall backward . . . body thuds floor . . . head bangs . . . bounces . . . lie there . . . heavy head . . . aching . . . headache . . . horrific . . . pain . . . no thoughts . . . slogging in mind . . . breathing heavy . . . lie in fog . . . brain fog . . . no thought . . . fog . . . heaviness presses down . . . brain heavy . . . time gone . . . gone . . . feel strength . . . turn over . . . breathing heavy . . . crawl to cabinets . . . pull upright . . . must know time . . . find hour hand . . . 2 . . . two o’clock . . . alternate between chills . . . hot flashes . . . have sudden thought . . . sleep . . . maybe sleep and wake in real world . . . crawl to kitchen door . . . through dining room . . . hit head on table leg . . . shudder . . . ache all over . . . in living room . . . grab hold of couch . . . pull body onto it . . . stretch out . . . reach for lamp . . . not real . . . space . . . which one’s real? . . .  which? . . . find it . . . switch on . . . fix eyes on top right-hand corner of ceiling . . . everything else moves . . . rotating . . . swirling left . . . blurring . . . moving . . . slow motion . . . ever left . . . corner steady . . . fixed . . . sleep . . . wake . . . room rotating . . . fix right-hand ceiling corner . . . sleep . . .

            When I wake at nine, the terror is over. Nothing rotates.

            I get up, feed the cats, and lie again on the couch. I sleep for sixty hours, rising only to feed the cats, visit the bathroom, and drink water. Each time I begin to doze I fear that when I wake, it will all be happening again. Everything will be rotating and I’ll be on the floor. What if it started and didn’t go away? Ever?

            I finally get up at nine pm on Sunday evening. An hour later, I pitch forward against a porch window. It shakes, but doesn’t shatter and I continue my fall to the floor, hitting my chin on the windowsill on the way down. That episode lasted for only five hours. The next day, Monday, I call the doctor. Foolishly, I drive to and from his office. Fortunately no episode occurs.

            But a day later it all happens again.