Big Lue's No Good Very Bad 10 Days

The bad luck festival started with a Nicolas Cage movie. It was a Sunday night. We didn't know anything about the film but wanted to get out of the house, so we raced across our little island and came screeching into the theater parking lot just about five minutes late. Subsequently, we had to sit in the front row. Not only do I find the front row uncomfortably close, I hate that you can't take in the whole picture - you have to scan your eyes from one end to the other to see what it is you're supposed to be looking at. 

About thirty minutes in, I began to feel queasy. I thought back on my lunch that day and admitted to myself that all of it was iffy, probably mere moments from being past due, but I ate it anyways because Mom and Dad taught me not to throw away food. Deciding that my lunch was the cause for my discomfort, I forged on, watching Nicolas Cage sweating beneath a hot Australian sun. About an hour in, I realized I was sea sick. 
It's not entirely uncommon for me to get motion sickness in movie theaters. The screen is so big and the lights are so bright. Things are swirling and flashing... it's a recipe for vomit. I recall a submarine movie I saw in high school that really set me off (K-19, Harrison Ford) and most recently, one about airplanes left me queasy for a few hours (Top Gun; Maverick, Tom Cruise). And now I add Nick Cage to the list. Despite being the toughest person you know, even a rouge woosh in a hammock can send my stomach into pirouettes. Being in-transit of any kind makes me a little queasy. Even swimming in a strong current can send me out in search of a ginger tea. I've always been this way really, though it does seem to get a little worse every year. So knowing myself as I do, I watched the rest of the film with my hand acting as a visor, only glancing at the screen occasionally. For the record, and in my defense, we go on to find out that the movie was meant to be a fever dream of sorts - made to disorient and discomfort you - we looked this up on account of what happens next. 

We left the theater, went to dinner and carried on with our normal routine and went to bed feeling fine. The next morning, I opened my eyes, smiled at my beloved partner and sat up to start the day. That's when I felt all the liquid in my brain moving in circles like someone had flushed the toilet up there. Instantly dizzy, queasy, nauseous and panicked. "I have vertigo!" I shrieked to Brett. I'll fast forward and tell you that it was awful, certainly not a way a human could live out their days. Dad had vertigo once and declared the intention of suicide if it didn't go away. I have since told this to my friend, Jenn, who said the exact same thing. "I thought I was going to have to kill myself." So I'm not just being dramatic. I sat very still in bed all day, alarmed, and unhappy. What I've written up there has simplified it. It was a truly horrendous experience that I now live in fear of experiencing again. So, there's that.

I told Mom about the movie and my symptoms and shortly after we hung up, she called back and informed that I had a vestibular migraine - brought on by visual stimuli. Diagnosis made me feel better. Shortly after that, she sent me a Yahoo News article entitled "Is Nicholas Cage's New Movie Making You Sick?" It made other people feel bad too, ok? 

The dizziness retreated slowly over many days but, being the toughest person you know, I got back to work on the renovations the next day. A few days later, I banged my knee so hard that it burst open on the spot. I was home alone, and on account of the dizziness, I hadn't eaten much in days. I'm not sure if it was the deep panting one does when experiencing big pain, or the generalized weakness of my body at that moment in time, but I started to black out. Oddly, this struck me as quite funny in the moment and I heard myself chuckle out loud. I once read that if you laugh while in pain, it won't hurt so bad. I noted then, that it is simply not true. I staggered over to the couch with dark spots crowding my vision. I laid on the floor and put my feet up on the sofa and then imagined Brett coming home to find me unconscious in this position with blood oozing from my knee. That also made me laugh. I can't say why I felt so calm teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Perhaps the lack of blood flow? Anywho, I laid there a good while but never passed out and then just got up and carried on with my day, except that I couldn't bend the one leg. No worries, I'll just limp around.

A couple days later, I electrocuted myself at the job site. A surprisingly bumpy experience. Not smooth and electric like you might think.

A couple days later, Brett took me to a concert so loud and aggressive that I had a panic attack. Brett suggested this might happen, but I scoffed at him. "I'm really quite tough," I remember telling him. Sure, screamo punk isn't my preferred genre, but I didn't want him to miss it just because no one else we knew could go. A concert is a concert, right?.... turns out, no. 
The thing about panic attacks, is that you don't just have one and then go back to your routine. There's a sort of "come down" that takes a few days - like any wound or pimple that you just have to wait to let heal. This means I was unable to eat for a few more days, which most certainly added to the dizziness I still had. 

Still hobbling around with the one knee that won't bend, a few days later I ran into a bench, right at knee level, which caused me to hyperextend the injured knee, during which time I heard a loud and distinct pop come from the area, and know I can't straighten that leg.
And to top it off, on day ten, I put in some earrings that assured me that were nickel free, but they must have lied and now I have disinfectant for my achey earlobes.

Do I think this is funny? Sure. 
In the debut moment of each of these experiences however it's a sort of frustration marinated in fear. Many times over the last ten days I have thought about people who live with these kinds of limiting ailments; perpetual dizziness, headache, hunger, or mobility woes. Ugh. What is this life? For the first time ever, we were watching an action movie, and when the main characters jumped from a balcony to the street below, I felt the impact in my own knees, right there in my living room! I commented on it, just like my parents do. "Oh that would kill my knees!" Brett, with his double ACL surgeries agreed. 

I am so accustomed to not feeling badly and being able to move in any way that suits me, that the sudden realization of what aging is going to do to me, has me entirely spooked. It's going to be awful!

And I have never been burdened by the thought of aging before. I've actually looked forward to it, but I realize now that my mental picture of aging was incomplete. It was only the visual stuff. I love gray hair and think people are their most beautiful in their 40s and 50s. Before that, they just look like they aren't done cooking yet. But I left out the physical parts of aging. I couldn't dream up the aches and pains because I hadn't felt them before. Somewhere in all this, my good knee took on sympathy pains for my bad knee and then they were both hurting me, just getting up for a glass of water. My ankles took the brunt of my walking strangely and suddenly, they felt like they were made of glass. What's happening? This isn't my body? What do you mean I can't change it?

It has reinstated some enthusiasm for going to the gym, and I know that will help heaps, but there is a part of me that knows I'm kidding myself. There is nothing I can do that will keep my body moving the way it does now. That is terrifying. How is no one freaking out about this?

As it stands today, I'm only dizzy for the first few minutes of waking up. I have a gash on one knee but I can straighten and bend the leg if I do it gently. The migraine is at 5% of what it was and the sense of panic has finally retreated, resulting in reaching 90% of my usual meal consumption quota. 

My earlobes hurt the most.