Carried To Safety When Vertigo Knocked Me Down
“I want to hear Anthony play music, too,” I say to my son David who is visiting from North Carolina. Anthony is his younger brother who used to dj in CA but now lives a few miles from me.
We sit outside at Atwater Winery enjoying the view and eating Mexican food from La Monarka’s food truck as the sun sinks west over Seneca Lake. I love that both my adult sons are here with a few friends. I’m tired of missing gatherings because of damaged hearing, so I take a chance.
“I’ll take out the cochlear implant and the hearing aid, too, if I need to. I’ll like being with everyone,” I tell David.
At the winery where Anthony is djing, vertigo and disequilibrium take over my body about an hour after we arrive. This hasn’t happened with such intensity for years, but I don’t test myself with loud sounds. Cold sweat pours off my body. I want to dance, but can barely stand up much less walk.
“I have to leave, David,” I say. We’d made a deal that he would take me home if the sound was too much for me.
The parking lot is up a steep hill and there is no way I can climb the steps unless I crawl. I sit on a stone wall and wonder what to do.
“This won’t last long,” I assure David. Truly, I don’t know how long it will last since I haven’t had a Meniere’s attack for a few years. I fumble around in my purse for a half pill of Valium, the most effective medicine for calming the vertigo.
“I’ll get my car,” David says, but how will I get up the steps I wonder? I hate being helpless.
David’s partner Jody sits with me until David returns. I’m grateful for her support. While we wait, I hold my head between my hands and try to stay calm and breathe.
David returns and leans toward me. “I’m here,” his body says. Jody, a registered nurse, knows what’s going on. Maybe others think I’m drunk, but I avoid alcohol.
David slides closer and scoops me into his strong arms. I resist for a minute and then relax. He’s a strong man and I’m not tiny, but David walks straight up the hill. I cling to his neck and shoulders.
He rescues me like a sick child who needs to go to bed. I remember carrying our sons to bed, but no one has carried me like this since I was a child. David gently puts me in the back seat of his car and turns the AC on high. Jody gathers my bags and “tucks” me in emotionally. Ten minutes later in my driveway, I can walk with David’s arm and my trekking pole for balance. Jody stays close to me for support.
David, Jody, and a touch of Valium save me. I face my rigid noise limit with gratitude for family help. It’s humbling, but this is my body now.
My sons don’t love me less for my handicap, so I won’t let this make me ashamed or angry–at least not tonight.
***
You may have health issues, too. All humans do sooner or later. For a post about my struggle with hearing loss and vertigo, see Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place. For a post about waking up from cochlear implant surgery in 2019, see Balance and Hope: Sometimes We Need Help.
Susan scott
Joy and beauty among the aggravation and debilitation of menieres. what a thing Elaine.. Lovely to imagine your sons helping you. Blessed indeed. I hope your weather is calming down and that the monarchs are faring well.
Elaine Mansfield
I do better than most people with Meniere’s. When the neurologist diagnosed it around 2013, he said I had every symptom. He also suggested I stay with my family doctor/internist who would work with me to slowly find medicines that helped. That family doctor who is now retired saved me as we patiently experimented with the drug possibilities. All this happened more than 5 years after Vic’s death. We hoped the cochlear implant would help with hearing loss but also help with vertigo, but it didn’t help vertigo even though it gave me some hearing. I pushed too hard against hearing loss when my son and Jody visited. Another lesson learned, but a sacred memory of having my son carry me. My first Monarch eclosed and flew off this morning with my blessing: “Go forth and lay eggs.”
Lin Gregory
Oh goodness Elaine, I’m sorry you suffered such a horrible attack of vertigo, I didn’t realise that sound and weather could set it off. What a blessing that your family were there to support you and also that you were still able to have a lovely time, getting out and spending quality time with them. Your response of acceptance is sometimes the only approach in challenging times but nevertheless it doesn’t make it any less frustrating and upsetting when these things happen (as I can attest when my back goes which seems to be happening more often as I age!). Having the Monarchs and nature around you must be a great salve and how heart lifting it is that the Monarchs have been laying eggs, so you are able to nurture their transformation before setting them off on their journey south. Nature is such a healer. Sending much love and light.
Elaine Mansfield
Thank you, Lin. I’m so sorry about your back. It’s hard to enjoy life with back pain. I’ve been wrestling with these “drop-attacks” since 2013, but hadn’t had one for a long time. No one in my family history had this problem or deafness, but here it is. My sons have excellent hearing which makes me happy. I’ll be more careful and enjoy small quieter gatherings in the future.
Nature is my primary healer. Monarchs have no hearing organ, so I relate. I have about 35 Monarch caterpillars and chrysalises in the backporch nursery now as the summer winds down. They live in mesh crates loaded with healthy milkweed shoots I harvest in the fields. May we all have love, light, and peace.
G
So comforting to imagine that strength given in a moment of vulnerability. Im grateful for the reminder of what a good place the world sometimes is…
Elaine Mansfield
David’s quiet reassuring strength was spectacular. I am grateful for both my sons and their kindness.
Jean Raffa
I never realized how debilitating Meniere’s and vertigo can be, or that loud music can set it off. You are, indeed, fortunate to have the love of your two strong sons. And they are fortunate to have learned how to love from observing the love between you and Vic. And now you’ve found new ways to share your love: by providing a safe nursery for your beloved monarchs. Thank you for sharing this simple, but deeply inspiring story with its powerful lessons about aging, love, resilience, and acceptance. You are an inspiration. Jeanie
Elaine Mansfield
Meniere’s Disease is a nightmare, and I do better than most. Medicines help me usually, but not always. Medicines don’t help everyone, so I’m fortunate. My first “drop attack” was over ten years ago. I have quieter periods, but it’s reactive to weather and the weather has been wild this summer. It’s also steadily diminished my hearing, so I have a hearing aid in one ear and cochlear implant in the other. (Monarch caterpillars feel vibrations, but have no hearing organs. I identify.) I’m learning to deal with the struggles of aging through experience. Loud music is beyond me, but I’m a stubborn one and I’m out walking the trails again. I take a trekking pole and my cell phone now, but off I go with my dog. Life is full of surprises. I hope you’re having a wonderful summer in the mountains.
Marian Beaman
Of course, I’m sorry to hear about this, Elaine. But every time you have a challenge, your helpers always show up. Trusted friends or in this case valiant sons–strong and kind by your side. I’m also happy your challenge doesn’t interfere with enjoying those beloved monarchs. I’m being treated with cortisone injections for back pain. Last week, the shot made me “list” left. I thought it would clear up in a few minutes, but NO. Cliff put me in a wheelchair for the trip to the car: again, strong and kind.
Elaine Mansfield
Marian, I’m so aware of the blessing of helpers. I’m so sorry you have severe back pain, and thank you Cliff for being a helper. There is no fighting a strong Meniere’s attack but it resolves in a few hours. Your back pain must be more constant. I still list right after a strong attack of vertigo or imbalance, so I hear you. The cochlear implant was in my left ear so it’s related to that. I get around with my trusty trekking pole when vertigo threatens, but I don’t need to use it all the time. This summer’s tumultuous weather has been a challenge, but I always hope for better times–for me and for you. Sending healing prayers.
Marian Beaman
Thank you, Elaine!
Aladin Fazel
It is such a heart-touching story, dear Elaine. Reading about your illness makes me sad every time. Most humans have five senses, and they don’t value them until they lose one and then notice how precious these senses are. However, you have such wonderful sons and friends worth more than anything else. I wish you and your loved ones all the best from the bottom of my heart. Be blessed.
Elaine Mansfield
Thank you for your blessing and good wishes, Aladin. I pushed too hard with visitors and especially loud music. My inner ear/vertigo centers rebelled. This aging process is still a surprise even though I’ll be 79 next month. I’ve never had anyone in my family with hearing issues and I didn’t stress my hearing as a young woman, but here it is. I miss music and I also miss socializing, but I do fine one on one thanks to the cochlear implant and lip reading. The love my son and his girlfriend showed me was sweet and reassuring, and life is still good. I walked an hour in the forest yesterday using my trekking pole, in case I had trouble with balance. I hope your life will settle back into the life of a philosopher when summer breaks are over. Returning your blessings.
Deborah Gregory
Dear Elaine, I hope you had a lovely time with family and friends before the dizziness and disarray took over. And what an amazing caring son you have in David and his partner Jody, who were ready to pick you up and literally carry you to the car in your hour of need. Thanks for sharing the photo! I really loved how you said, “but this is my body now” emphasising acceptance as opposed to denial. Knowing you are cherished, my dear friend, brings a smile to my heart. Love and light, Deborah.
Elaine Mansfield
I had a lovely time with family before and after the meltdown, although I’m not the life of the party. I can be an observer and go to bed early. My sons are kind and compassionate which is so fortunate–and David is so strong. Jody was so kind. That incident was the most serious I’ve had in a long time. David wasn’t even winded after carrying me up a hill. I hope this vertigo becomes less intense, but the weather has been changeable and the inner ear can’t adjust quickly. I’m trying to accept that I might never adjust. Fortunately, I haven’t had to give up Monarchs. The females lay their eggs in milkweed patches below the barn where I don’t see them. My secretive egg layers. I’ve collected about 40 chrysalises and caterpillars and a friend gave me two Black Swallowtail caterpillars, so I’m gathering parsley and other things they love. I hope they lay many eggs since they winter here with natural antifreeze in their bodies. Nature is so amazing. Sending love to you and Lin across this wild and lovely world.