My latest head cold comes with the vertigo accessory.
Imagine sitting in the recliner in your living room, only to discover that it has somehow been attached to a bull riding machine straight from the nearest honkey-tonk. Granted, it’s on the lowest setting, the one designed to make you look sexy, not throw you to the ground in a beer-stained heap. But still, you’re not feeling particularly sexy, because this is, after all, your living room, and stuff isn’t supposed to move.
Welcome to my world at the moment. My latest head cold comes with the vertigo accessory, even though I don’t remember ordering it. Can I get a refund? Please?
In theory, I’m watching TV, but everything is gently rocking and slowly spinning, and it’s all I can do to hold on, let alone focus on the show. I’m being taken for a ride. I want to get off.
Even typing this blog is a challenge. I have to remind myself that the keyboard is oriented to me. I don’t have to chase it. I’m actually finding it easier to type with my eyes closed.
Is this what Dorothy felt like when she went to Oz? I never noticed what a funny name Oz was before. Okay, I’m delirious, too. Yippee.
Why do we say a pair of pants? It’s just one. It’s not like you’d ever separate the legs and use them independently. A pair of pants should be two pants. Same with a pair of scissors. Just because scissors have two blades doesn’t make them a pair. Try using one blade without the other sometime and see how far you get. These things seem very important all of a sudden.
My dog is worried about me. He keeps jumping up into my lap. I try to warn him off, because I wouldn’t wish Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride on anyone, but for him, loyalty is everything. I tell you what, though, if the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t be sitting on his lap. No way, no how.
I see my mother’s picture float past. I miss my mother the most when I’m sick. She was really good at holding my hair out of the way when I threw up, and bringing me flat ginger ale and crackers afterwards. That’s a character trait that separates the men from the boys, if you ask me. If your person isn’t willing to hold your hair while you throw up, well, then, it’s a slippery slope, is all I’m sayin’.
And there goes my father’s memorial flag, all folded up in its triangle, some of the 21 gun salute bullet casings inside. I keep it to honor the one good thing he did. As it floats past, it occurs to me that that flag got closer to him than I ever did. How pathetic is that?
Whoa. What? The sun jumped across the sky. Or maybe I fell asleep. Yeah. That’s what happened. I fell asleep. I think I dreamed I was bobbing on the ocean. And what do you know? I still am.
I’m not enjoying myself, here.
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6 thoughts on “And Away We Go”
I hope you get well soon.
I know you’re not well and having a difficult time, but I had to tell you that I found this post very amusing. I’m not amused by your situation, but the way you have expressed it. I’ve not come across anyone expressing themselves quite so humorously when they were unwell. Thank you.
On Wed, Feb 5, 2020 at 1:33 PM The View from a Drawbridge wrote:
> The View from a Drawbridge posted: “Imagine sitting in the recliner in > your living room, only to discover that it has somehow been attached to a > bull riding machine straight from the nearest honkey-tonk. Granted, it’s on > the lowest setting, the one designed to make you look sexy, not throw ” >
Thanks Leena, I’m feeling a little better every day. And yeah, I was shooting for the humor in it. Glad I hit the target!
Sometimes the balance problems are caused by dehydration. You might want to drink some water. I hope you get out of this soon.
You’re right. And I hope so, too.
STOP! Wait till someone can read this to you. Sorry you’re dealing with this. I keep ginger chews on hand for migraine related vertigo induced nausea. Works well and doesn’t irritate the stomach the way medication does. Sometimes the computer actually triggers migraine auras for me and not even computer glasses help. Maybe hubby can read and type while the world is spinning for you? Unless he’d rather hold your hair while you vomit. I get the humor aspect since I frequently have to explain that ‘I’m just a dizzy dame and break if I fall’ when asked why I need a walker. Without humor I’d probably say something I’d regret later. 🙂 Hang in there, rest and delay your responses till you’ve healed. Your readers can wait.
Thanks for your patience, Lyn. Every day I feel a little better, and the vertigo is less intrusive.