The paragraph that follows is the introduction I typed for an essay originally entitled “A Public Confessional”. The goal was to discuss the various things that seem to have gotten in the way of me spending time on what I keep saying to myself are my priorities, only to find myself not doing those things and giving myself an inordinate amount of grace. Then the Universe intervened:

“This has been a weird month or two. I have started and stopped this essay what feels like 100 times, only to be knocked off kilter and put it on the back burner. Every time I’d start to feel “normal” and begin cogitating on how the last few days/week/month had affected me, something else would happen. I won’t tell you what those “something else” things are out of respect for, and fear of, the people involved. Instead, since I am really into personal accountability, I thought a public recounting of these thoughts would help keep me from falling back into disarray. And since today is a good day (so far), so I figured I’d better bang this out!”

Something made me hesitate after typing that last sentence. Premonition? Here is what followed:

I had done a Costco run that morning. Afterwards, I started this essay, including the paragraph above and some verbiage around what my stated priorities are and what my actual actions had been, yadda yadda yadda. I found that the words just weren’t flowing, and decided to have lunch. I figured that after lunch, I’d go grocery shopping and then give the essay another go. Afterall, one of my themes was to be “I get done what I HAVE to get done. Why can’t I get done what I WANT to get done?” As I was walking around the kitchen, I had one of those momentary bouts of lightheadness/dizziness that happen occasionally. As I grabbed the counter for support, I mentioned it to Trish. It passed. It always does.

Off to the grocery store we go! In the produce section, the Universe tapped me on the shoulder. “Sorry, Sherri. You now can no longer determine up from down.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. Not spinning so much as spatial disorientation. I grabbed the sides of the cart. My first thought was to call Trish and say, “I’m in trouble. Come get me.” I did not. I took a few deep breaths. Focused a distance away from me, and bravely finished the shopping. Because why not? I made it to the car and had another decision to make. I made the wrong one and drove home. I stumbled into the house. Told Trish she had to get the groceries out of the car. I tried to lie down and ended up in the bathroom relieving myself of lunch. After I changed my clothes (don’t ask), I took an upright nap on the couch, then asked Trish to take me to Urgent Care. I wanted to make sure I didn’t have an ear infection and was hoping for something to address the nausea.

The PA who saw us looked to be about 12 years old. They did an EKG. She evaluated me as best she could for any neurological issues then said, “This is probably benign vertigo, but BECAUSE OF YOUR AGE I recommend you go to the ER.” Because of my age?! F@#$ YOU, baby PA! Well, OK. I am almost 64 and my maternal grandmother had had a devastating stroke at about this age. We stopped at home to get snacks for Trish, a bottle of water for me, and hoodies for us both.

When I said “possible neurological issue” they took me right in. Quick triage then back into a bay. For the next six hours. I appreciated being seen quickly and my symptoms being taken seriously, but there is just a LOT of wait time in ERs. A lot of time to think, staring straight ahead. Every bodily fluid was analyzed (twice), my chest was xrayed along with my head, and another EKG taken for good measure. As midnight approached, we were told that there had definitely been no cardiac event and the CAT scan showed no evidence of a major neurological event but that they couldn’t rule out a TIA (minor stroke) without further work. They recommended I get admitted, see a neurologist, be watched overnight, and probably get an MRI to determine if there had been “an event.” But I didn’t have to do so. I could go home and then follow up. Honestly, 50% of me wanted to stay and 50% of me wanted to leave. The thought of staying there overnight and not sleeping pushed me to 51% go home.

By the time we left, my disorientation had gotten a lot better and a dose of Dramamine had taken care of any residual nausea. Did I still sway in the breeze with my eyes closed? Yes, but I hadn’t had food or drink since essentially breakfast. Yesterday was spent in an exhausted stupor (most likely because of the industrial amount of Dramamine they are keeping me on) and today is marginally better. I see my PCP this afternoon; the neurologist at the end of August since “first available” is rarely the next day. Truthfully? I think it’s vertigo. I’m trying out some exercises to put those little crystals back where they belong. The excessive Dramamine is probably making me feel woozier than I should but I’m not ready to back off of it yet.

All of my supposed priorities that I’ve been struggling to act on (get to the Y more regularly again, get out on the golf course, make the weekly Mahjong sessions at the club more than once every two months) have gone out the window. I had started to write, in the earlier version of this essay, that my health has to be my top priority. What I didn’t realize at that first writing is that “health” is not just the things you do to STAY healthy (working out, eating right, sleeping, socializing), it is also all the wiring in your system functioning well to begin with. Because, for most of us, since everything functions well enough the vast majority of the time, we forget what it feels like when things DON’T work well.

I try to remind myself of that. Each time I go to spin class and I’m on that bike waiting for class to start, wanting to be back on the couch instead, I think “Be grateful you can do this!” Today, I would give anything to be in spin class right now. OK, Universe. Message received.