I had to reset to clock on Dec. 11 because I had a weird feeling during Staff Development Day (insert jokes here) and had to go home. I wasn’t sure if a full attack was imminent or if it would go away on its own. I live 10 minutes from work so I chose to go home, sleep for exactly 40 minutes, rise, determine I felt well enough to return, and slip back into work. I only missed one full session. It was surreal, actually. Even though it wasn’t a full attack, I still restart the clock when dizziness keeps me from doing what I would normally do.
I haven’t posted a book list for a while because I’ve had to move on to reading stuff for school and I just can’t list that. It’s boring enough to read about the politics of libraries and archives, can’t do that to my 18 readers. I can say thatTrashy Book Fest ‘09 kicks off tomorrow when Ruby and DOG and I leave for Idaho. I have nothing but pure crap checked out to take along.
Even on the years when I was perfectly healthy I never sent Christmas cards. A few years back I stopped even buying them. Saved me from recycling them when I’d find them in June, half filled out. For the first time I’m planning to send an e-card to my clients. We’ll see how this goes. Maybe so well I send to friends. Just in case… Happy Holidays!
Because I hadn’t been kicked in the nuts in nearly 24 hours, my car was broken into in the staff parking lot yesterday. One of the guards came up around 6:00 PM to see who drove a gray Passat. It’s smokey blue but I knew it was mine. Some wingnut broke the driver’s side rear window to steal my portfolio case of mediocre mechanicals from when I attended the Art Institute of Pittsburgh in 1995. I guess they would have taken the other, bigger, AIP bag I’ve been toting from place to place for 15 years but it weighs over 20 pounds and won’t fit through a window. There wasn’t anything else of value in the car. The stolen case isn’t even leather. The two cases have been in the back seat since I moved. I kinda forgot they were there. I’m slightly bummed about the print copies of the Blue Ribbon Coalition newsletter I edited in about 1992. That was my first job out of college and this was way before PDF archives.
Then I had a full-on vertigo attack last night at 8:09 PM, my first in nearly 8 weeks. It feels like the vertigo was saying, “Hah! I scoff at your Dramamine. See? I caused you to puke it up. Where is your precious Valium now, huh? I will not be denied. Mwahahaha!”
Er, I mean Aspray. Pronounced A-spray. Not ass-spray as I originally assumed. I stand corrected. Even though that’s essentially what it’s for. Pay special attention to the guy 1:15 in. He’ll provide you with a quote you’ll want to remember.
I mentioned a few posts ago that I have been diagnosed with Meniere’s Disease. For my 12 readers I thought I’d post what it actually is. Meniere’s is a fancy-pants name for a wildly inconvenient inner ear disorder. It’s named for a French doctor, Propser Ménière. The four classic symptoms are: tinnitus, hearing loss (mostly in one ear but some unlucky individuals lose hearing in both), ear fullness, and last but not least, vertigo. Ah, yes, vertigo. How I loathe you. We’re not talking being wobbly at heights. No, no, no. Your eyes won’t focus and the world spins violently so immediately you can’t walk without resembling the worst drunk. All you can do is lie down and sleep it off. Except you can’t sleep because of the heart racing, mind spinning and vomitting. At least that’s how it is for me. It occurs with no warning. I’ve had it last anywhere from 2-6 hours. Sometimes months will go by with no vertigo attack and then I get it once per week. Thankfully only once at work. That was embarrassing.
The causes are unknown and there is no cure. Probably because it won’t kill you although you will want to die a little bit while you’re in the midst of a vertigo attack. To further complicate matters, my Menieres might have different causes and triggers than anyone elses. Although there is enough commonality to diagnose it, what works for me may or may not work for someone else. And there’s a lot of trial and error involved.
Right now I’m trying a regimen I found after much research. It’s all herbal/homeopathic. I ran it by my doctor and she gave me the OK to try it. She also perscribed Valium for when an attack is imminent. I hoard those since they are prescription. I also take Dramamine a lot. I really like it, actually. My dreams are really mellow and I sleep well. I avoid the Less Drowsy Dramamine because it makes me loggy the next day. Dr. L has also recommended vestibular rehabilitation which I will try next. She thinks it will work and so do I. I find that if I lay without a pillow I can feel the world tilting. This tells me that some exercises to help balance my ear goo will help. Basically, there’s not much I won’t do to avoid the vertigo.
According to this New York Times Interactive whatever-it-is, white, women, aged 24-44, college educated have an unemployment rate of 3.6% compared to 8.6% for all people. I wonder how accurate these numbers are as my library goes into yet another round of cuts, 30% to be exact, rather than the previously identified 7.5%.
I love the Man in Black. I just never thought my life would be one of his songs. I have been trying to pinpoint when things started to go south. My guess is 2007. I had the prospect of a trip to Africa to keep me distracted but I did start to notice in 2008. It wasn’t until I returned that the slide into a JC song got real. That’s when the shit approached the fan, pardon my French. Here’s why. After months of stress, layoff rumors and multiple interviews with no offers, I did get laid off, managing to keep my job only because people I liked and respected left for greener pastures. My business fell off a cliff. I had financial woes. I was diagnosed with Meniere’s disease. I decided to sell my house. My dad died. My dog died. My house sold and now I have <shudder> to move. And I ain’t got no man. OK, that last part is the last thing on my mind right now but, hey, that’s life in a JC song. At least I never picked cotton or shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
I’m sad to report that my dog, DOG, took a turn for the worse today. This morning when Ruby and Winnie (yes, I’m watching Jeremy’s extremely irritating dog) went out early this morning DOG did not move. I thought maybe it was early, he didn’t need to go out. But he still hadn’t moved an hour later. When I tried to help him get up he yelped. I called Kristin then my mom when Kris didn’t pick up, in tears to the point Mom couldn’t understand me. My mother called Brandon and Gina. G told me to try to give him water. I put a bowl in front of him but he was lying on his side with no way to get a drink without moving. He didn’t seem that interested anyway and seemed slightly put out when I dribbled water on his muzzle. I lay on the floor with him and put the phone to his ear so Gina could say her goodbye. While I was out of the room, he pooped, got into a different position and spilled the water. I encouraged him to stand up which he finally did. Keep in mind, he’d been lying in that same position for at least two hours, probably longer since I don’t know that he wasn’t lying that way all night. He had a hard time walking and was very shaky but he did go outside. I coaxed him back into my office so that I could work and also keep an eye on him. Kris got my messages and stopped by on her way to work. She examined him (she really has learned a lot about vet care volunteering for the Humane Society) and said to keep an eye on him, give him the aspirin (I had already done that), put a hot towel on his back leg and give him a doggie massage later. We agreed that I’d keep an eye on him and if he is the same she’ll come with me on Saturday. This gives me a few extra hours with him.
He spent the day in my office lounging on his pillow. Ruby curled next to him, a first but I think she was more interested in lying on the fleece I laid over his pillow than in cuddling with him in the last minutes of his life. I wanted to take a picture but the second I picked up my camera he got up and moved over the cement area by the door. He sometimes likes to lay there. It was weird, though, because he didn’t get up and move like dogs will do. He looked disoriented and seemed to be trying to go into the shelf that holds my golf shoes, not that he’d fit. He finally got himself levered on the ground and seemed comfortable there.
This afternoon someone stopped by to look at my house which is for sale. This person did not bother making an appointment, a mistake. Jeremy’s (extremely irritating) dog barked the whole five minutes she was here. And also, DOG roused himself sufficiently to crap on the floor right in front of her. I don’t think she’s gonna make an offer.
Oh, and did I mention that it’s exactly two weeks from the day my dad died?
When I’m working, especially on something repetitive, the optimal situation is listening the music. Total silence is like riding in a car; instant narcolepsy. Anyone who has ever been on a car trip with me knows what that’s like. I can drive for hours and be wide awake, especially with a Coke from McDonalds. Put me in the passenger seat and it’s lights out. Same with repetitive work.
Since a nap is not an option when I’m working (I really do need to get paid, you know) I have an ever-changing array of songs, albums and/or bands that occupy a space in my brain that lets me hear the music and not be distracted by it. Right now, it’s a band called The Eagles of Death Metal. DW picks it constantly when we’re on the Teen Desk. Now it’s all I can listen to. It is my repetitive work listening pleasure. How can you not love a band with lyrics like, “I want you so hard, I want you so good,” and “You be my sugar I’ll be your cherry cola”?
My father has died and I am Idaho for his funeral.
It feels dramatic to write the words. My father and I were not close but we did try. Our efforts didn’t take but there was effort. I took up golf so we’d have something to talk about. He liked to fish, too, but golf was much more reasonable for me.
I was able to get a flight to Idaho. Fortunately I did not have to “take advantage” of Delta’s bereavement rate which was more even than last-minute fares online. Not sure the point, other than the fee to change the ticket is waived. But if you’ve got a date for a funeral, I can’t see the point. Funeral dates are not moving targets.
But anyway, I made it to Idaho. The funeral is Wednesday, August 5. Two days before my birthday and one day after my sister Tiff’s birthday. Dad made all his own arrangements so I haven’t had anything to do.
For friends who have wondered, I’m doing well. There are sad moments that hit me at odd times but for the most part, it doesn’t feel different. Even though I’m back home. My visits with Dad have always been sporadic. My mom raised me so she gets the right to drag me all over the place on visits, I guess. This time is no different.
I’m so excited. I wrote my first fan letter. * And I heard back! It was to HRH Jill Conner Brown of Sweet Potato Queen fame. She’s the author, actually. My giddines is similar to that which I described someplace else on this blog were I ever to encounter one of the Palomar-Hernandez brothers. I had to write this particular letter for two reasons. First, because I enjoyed the latest book, American Thighs, and can’t wait for the audio. I listen to the other audio I have when I’m in a crabby mood. The second reason, I noticed the publisher used the same artwork as another favorite book, Welcome to Temptation by Jennifer Cruisie. I got my copy, which I still have, on Oxford Street in London ona visit to Darah in about 2002. Also, the charactors make a porn movie and one title is “Fleshy Thighs”. It’s a good book, I recommend it. I’m probably a nudge for pointing it out but I don’t care.
