About Me

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Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Chicken Little has taken up residence in my head.

Hard to believe this song is almost 50 years old.

Here's another good one.

And one that's good, silly fun.

What's the impetus for all this nostalgia, you ask? Well, it's been quite a day. I awoke about half an hour ahead of the alarm, starting awake from a dead sleep with the sensation that I was going to fall out of bed to the floor on my right. I immediately spun to my left, tweaking my right calf into a charley horse as I did, and the room spun like a merry-go-round. All of the hamstring stretches I've been doing as part of my PT helped me ease out the worst of the knot in my calf, and I was able to sit up and stagger to the loo.

I'm really glad that we installed grab bars last year.

After work, I went to the night clinic to get my ears checked. There's no sign of fluid in the middle ear. The doctor had a wonderfully droll sense of humor. He said the only way to determine that there's a problem in the inner ear, is to do an autopsy, and most patients aren't excited about that.

After determining that I had no pain in my ears, no headache, no nausea, no fever, no sore throat, and that I wasn't feeling as if I were going to pass out, just keel over, he checked my eyes, throat, and lungs, felt my lymph nodes. Nada. He had me flatten my hands and splay my fingers as wide as I could, then resist him trying to push various fingers together. Nothing worrisome there.

Then he said that while I certainly don't look my age, the fact is that I'm 65 and sometimes weird stuff happens as we get older. His best guess is that this is benign something something vertigo, and he wrote a prescription and told me not to drive any more than I absolutely have to until this resolves, probably within a couple of weeks. He also said that, looking at me, he would have guessed me to be 15 to 20 years younger than my age. I asked if I could adopt him. (When I texted this to Fourthborn, she said she thought I had enough kids already. I can't argue that.)

Here's a link to a Johns Hopkins article on benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. So basically, it's all in my head. But we knew that. And there's a physical therapy move that can fix it. I was mildly amused to read that this type of vertigo frequently happens when old people roll over in bed.

I'm planning to set up my nest right smack in the middle of the bed tonight. There's a six-foot hose on my CPAP, and I'm planning to take advantage of that.

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