Looks like this is becoming an annual event, another double vertigo attack with the odd fever spike, shivers and the expected sea sickness. And sweet heavens, the nausea. Wow.
Almost to the day a year since the last big one. I feel so very sorry for myself. Very sorry. And I would bang my head against the wall if only that would help. Instead, I stagger around the house and that heavenly garden, lilacs, tulips, wisteria, apple blossoms. No cats. My first spring without cats.
At least now I can leaf through last year's diary and count the days I was sick with it last year (16 days) and also that I waited almost a week before I went for the ENT appointment after the cortisone spike brought feck all relief. This time, I am not even starting on that stuff. Well, not yet. This time round, I'll do the ENT before the immunologist. Variety is the spice of life they say.
Does it help to realise that there are worse things happening in the world? I wish it would.
I wish I could see how insignificant my little portion of misery is in comparison. I fail.