Hospital Stay

I was awake, enjoying the blessings of insomnia, in the very wee hours of Tuesday morning when I rolled over to find a more comfortable position and the room began to spin.

I lay on that position for a few minutes and the room settled...until I moved again.

Over the course of the next few hours, I found it more and more difficult to keep the room steady.

I knew, in theory, what was going on. My dad's had chronic vertigo for more than five years and Evie was hospitalized with it last year.

For dad, vertigo was the only symptom of the mini strokes that are the core of his vascular dementia.

So, I kept wiggling fingers and toes to see if I could tell if I was having a stroke but all of that seemed fine.

At daybreak, I couldn't move safely and couldn't open my eyes without being overwhelmed by nausea.

Evie got me dressed in clothes that would not be cumbersome and she drove me, at buggy speed and on the straightest roads possible, to the Reading Hospital ER.

The people in the ER were great, as they were when I broke my wrist.

I had numerous tests.

No sign of stroke.

I recovered quicky, compared to others who have had symptoms as intense as mine according to the physical therapist who signed off on my release.

Evie drove me home about noon today, after a HORRIBLE night in the hospital.

I had my first MRI and I hope I never have another one...ever...of my head, at least, and without the aid of powerful drugs.

Bottom line: The doctors have determined no cause and gave me the exclusionary diagnosis, which is what happened with my dad, until years later, when doctors who specialize in dementia placed the onset of the vertigo with his more general decline.

Dad was in his 80s then.

I'm guessing my case is different.

The brain is such a very complex thing.

Right now, I'm completely exhausted.