Ugh. Labrynthitis. The word would usually conjure up wonderful thoughts, but the only thing it was conjuring up at that point was last night's dinner.
I've been here before. It blindsides you on a Friday morning for no reason at all, other than it can.
I send Ron Burgundy on a scavenger hunt to find me a meclizine, which I haven't needed in years. Which means it's probably out of date if he does find it. "Might be yellow, might be orange, look in the vitamin cupboard...." as my bed becomes my own personal tilt-a-whirl.
He returns with a handful of pharmaceutical unknowns that only a nurse would have on hand. And as I search his palm, the pills are spinning wildly like the vintage Asteroids game gone bad. But I know a meclizine when I see it and there was none to be seen.
Note to self: keep the stuff labeled next time.
He finds a blister pack deep in the cabinet with 3 left. I'm certain they were part of the Y2K preparation, but I take one anyway. Then a couple hours later, I take another. He brings me Naked Pomegranate Blueberry juice in my lame attempt to antioxidize the bugs away.
Second note to self: don't drink dark red juice when the room is moving.
He goes off to teach class. And I do the army crawl to get to the bathroom. There is no other way. Not without a head injury.
I doze off and on, and I take the last pill. The last old, outdated pill. I call the pharmacy to see if they have any OTC, but of course not (small town, small pharmacy). I call my doctor who in his sweet, infinite wisdom does not insist I make an office visit to get a prescription. He knows me. He does not like to be thrown up on. Stay away, Candy, stay far, far away.... He called in the prescription.
And within 45 minutes I have the real, full-strength stuff, doze off for an hour and a half, and awaken with the ceiling fan no longer flying across the room. It's actually still, like it's supposed to be in -40 degree weather.
I walk to the bathroom, using the wall as my guide.
Third note to self: busy wallpaper and labrynthitis do not make good company.
Second "real" dose, and within 30 minutes I'm a new woman. Not my best (read: bedhead, dog breath) but I can navigate to the kitchen, feed my puppy, grab a yogurt, and go back to bed with a great book.
God often tells us to be still, and sometimes we don't listen until WHUMP, he blindsides you on a Friday morning.
I got the message, thankyouverymuch.
Tea tonight: Green with pomegranate