|"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. Did you say you like my feather boa or you're from Manitoba?"|
I'd like to start today by congratulating Katie Herzing on winning the Penny Jules giveaway! Congrats to a fantastic Reader, and please know I'm super jealous of all the ridiculously cute stuff you get to pick from.
You know what's not cute?
Sandals with socks, yes, absolutely. I'll take that as an answer, but I was really hinting more at the partial deafness I'm dealing with right now. Due to some sort of inner ear nonsense, I've developed the fascinating habit of falling sideways for no reason, coupled with the ever-present sensation I'm about to fall sideways for no reason.
Nothing sexier than a twenty-nine-year-old woman with vertigo. (Nope, not even your pet ferret in the hand-knit sweater you gave him for Christmas.)
Naturally, my hypochondria has shifted into overdrive, leaving me in a limbo where I either have extreme sinus issues mostly likely be cleared up with modern medicine or I'm dying.
In times of crisis such as these, I try not to panic. Instead, I spend copious amounts of time researching what's wrong with me and making expensive appointments to see the doctor.
"What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Kellerman?"
"Hi, Doctor. I've talked about it with WebMD, and we think it's a tumor."
*Insert sounds of typing and disregard*
"Well, you don't have any fluid in your ear, so I'll tell you what's going on."
"You seem really sure of yourself."
"It's probably allergies."
"I've never had allergies in my life. Let's get back to my tumor."
"The one mostly likely located behind my ear, somewhere within the vicinity of the the Eustachian tube."
The room went silent as she began typing out a prescription to the local pharmacy and I stared into space, wondering how this woman could possibly pit her decades of medical experience against my paranoia.
"I'm giving you a steroid."
I shook my head. "No thank you. I'm actually pretty happy with how my upper body looks."
"This should reduce the swelling in your ear and get you back to normal."
Doubtful, I nodded and slunk down off my wax paper pulpit. "Ok, but my money's on the tumor or impacted sinuses."
"Take care and let us know if you're not feeling any better after a week."
"Sounds good, but can we work something out where I don't have to pay another copay if you're terribly, terribly wrong here?"
It's been a week, all the steroids are gone, and I neither have a clear ear or better biceps. And, seeing as I have no skill with exploratory surgery or making my own medication, I've gladly accepted a Neti Pot and well wishes from my family. I'm not sure if it has any chance of working, but Vertigo Veronica has to get on a plane in a few weeks and has no desire to spend the entire trip asking who killed the engine and why the plane is flying sideways.
Then again, I could spend the entire flight reading WebMD as a dsitraction.
Until Next Time, Readers!