I've Got What It Takes, Meniere's Disease

I’ve had Meniere’s Disease since 1992. At the time I was attending grad school at the University of Wisconsin – Stevens Point, School of Communicative Disorders alongside future audiologists.
I was lucky to receive extensive no-cost testing to arrive at a diagnosis and find out there’s nothing that can be done about the roaring ear(s), dizziness and nausea.

Fast forward nearly a score. I’ve seen numerous doctors and read the articles. I have no faith that anything can be done at present.
This doesn't make me a fatalist. I’m bitter, not resigned. And I have self-pity. There’s always that.

I read a bit this morning to bone up for this post, which I’m calling “Everything You Need to Know to About Meniere’s Disease to Send Much-Needed and Effectual Sympathy to Kel.”
Even I learned some new stuff, thus increasing my self-pity tenfold.

I have roaring tinnitus in my left ear for about 9 months out of the year. It is loud and it results in a severe hearing loss. I have moderate hearing loss in that ear permanently. Sometimes I have roaring or ringing in my right ear.
Hearing loss is more awkward in social situations than you can imagine. Be patient with peeps who’re hearing impaired. For reals.

I am HIGHLY sensitive to noise (hyperacusis). It’s not just In My Head, er…yea, it is.

I don’t always have the other symptoms; dizziness and nausea, which will heretofore be referred to as flares.

My flares include “Drop Attacks”. They’re sudden attacks of severe dizziness. If I’m standing; I fall. If I’m sitting; I hurry to the floor. Prone.
I can’t stand or lift my head. I won’t be able to stand or lift my head for hours.

I’ve had “Pulsion” - the feeling of being pushed or pulled. I experienced a complete back flip though I was lying in bed at the time. It happened once while I was seated at the table. I never moved, yet I had all the sensations of being lifted by the top o’ my head and flipped backward.
Since these experiences weren’t followed by full-blown flares, I ask you, “How cool is that?” (Like Harry Potter getting sucked into the pensieve.)

I was surprised to find perspiring is considered a symptom. I think it’s part and parcel of the reeling and shouting of lunch. But I won't argue with the small "g" god of Wikipedia.
Sweat runs. Down my face and neck, back, torso and limbs. It’s especially nice to spend time sweating profusely on the bathroom floor of a premenopausal woman who loses more hair than most people keep. I’m like a human lint roller.

I’m quite certain that I exhibit nystagmus during an attack, but who wants to get close enough to my Puke Breath to confirm?
Nystagmus is uncontrollable eye movements, usually horizontal. My dog had this right before we put her to sleep. Ah… merciful euthanasia.

These past few weeks I’ve had my worst flares ever. Medication does nothing. I have Valium and Meclizine. They make me sleep. What’s more incapacitating; whirling & hurling, or drug-induced sleep?
I have daycare kids to daycare of. My own Dolls are at school. Who’s gonna pick them up if I’m sucking mites out of the carpet? The Porcelain Bus is doesn’t stop for passengers.

I get absolutely panicked if I sense a flare coming, although in reality my flares simply arrive, without warning. Still, when I feel any bit of a twist or a spin in my visual field, I get a knot in my stomach and break out in a sweat. I’m fairly positive my visceral response affects my heart rate, but who’s checking BPM? I’m crawling (if possible) for the nearest basin.
(There are receptacles in every room of my house at present.)

Monday was one of those ::almost:: flare days. The dizziness was there, lingering. Menacingly.
I took meds. And naps, plural.
At the end of the day I realized it’d be better to be prone and chucking than to fear an oncoming attack. The beauty was having Mr. Savant at home, cuz worrying about kids is worse than worrying about blomiting (which is puking bile. Read about it here.)

On ::almost:: flare days I keep my head so still I get a headache. I wear it like a pain helmet, cuz it’s easier than trying to take pills without tipping my head back. [choke] [choke]
I’m fairly certain I’m scowling all day, which completely reverses the effects of my $18 L'Oreal Advanced RevitaLift Deep-Set Wrinkle Repair SPF Day Creme, which ticks me, undoubtedly making me scowl more, and adding a painful mask to my hoodie of discomfort.

Every day I decide whether to wash my hair by the amount of head tilt I can acheive without falling down dizzy. I haven’t. In a while. No worries. It’s really coarse. It never gets greasy and doesn’t smell, I tell m’self.
Putting on eyeliner is a joy. I never go without makeup, even if I end up looking like Patty the Daytime Hooker with sweat running off my face into a pail of homemade dog food, I am wearing my bareMinerals and Bobbi Brown.

When I have a sufficiently happy day I’m going to play with my new Becca palette that arrived yesterday. Thanks Todra. (And I’m sure she loves being mentioned in this post along with blomiting, which you can read about here.)

I choose my clothing by what will be most suitable when I'm draped over the toilet like a drunken prom date.
I may end up sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I’d like something that will hide the offense, (cuz nothing can hide the offense of that metaphor, but it's funnEE.)
I chose food that will be least unpleasant if I have to “experience it again.”

I haven’t taken my RA meds in weeks. They tend to make me dizzy. I think you can make the connection.
Try this one: how does a middle-age woman with Rheumatoid Arthritis feel after sleeping with her head on the white throne for an hour-and-a-half?
If you answered stiff and sore; YOU WERE RIGHT.

The TV and computer screens give me a sense that I’ll flare. In true Savant form I frequently divert my eyes, looking around the room at stationary objects.
Are they still stationary? Yep. Good. (Think; Dustin Hoffman in "Rainman".)

I’ve all but cut out caffeine. It’s not conducive to “Please-Dear-Lord-Make-the-Valium-Work-or-Kill-Me-Now.”

My Mr. has been good about this. He came home from work on one particularly bad day. (He took four hours off for the birth of our second child, so this is saying something.)
He’d rather hold my hair back and empty basins than miss work, and he has.

He’s helped me scramble out of sweaty clothes while I can’t even stand up.
He’s not said but I think he sneaked a peek at my Goods , cuz even shivering, sweaty and covered with stray hairs from my bathroom floor; he thinks I’m All That, I tell m’self.

I've Got What It Takes, if by What It Takes you mean hydrops.