I didn’t want to write about this, but I’ve been putting it off because I didn’t want to admit that I’ve been stumbling– literally and spiritually.
About a year ago, I got a little lightheaded after a seven mile run. Not particularly unusual for a runner. I thought I didn’t hydrate or fuel correctly. I was training for my first half marathon and was learning my boundaries.
I asked my doctor about it and he said I was probably pushing myself too hard, so I backed off the running and the dizziness stopped. But a few weeks later, it came back again, fogging my brain and spinning my world. This time the doctor checked a range of things and when he couldn’t find anything wrong, he wrote me a prescription for Klonopin and told me it was just anxiety.
In June and July of 2015, I was wrecked with dizziness. I could hardly leave the bed or turn my head. An ENT had me do a brain MRI and a VNG test (an inner ear test). The MRI was clear, but the VNG showed a slight loss of function in my left ear. He referred me to eight weeks of vestibular rehab, where a nice lady made me turn my head rapidly while focusing on a business card.
After eight weeks, I hadn’t shown much improvement and I was sent to a neurologist. We did a neck MRI and more bloodwork, but everything showed up fine. The neurologist said I should try more vestibular rehab.
I did four more weeks of a more intensive vestibular rehab program, but my progress was up and down, so I went to have another VNG test done at an ear specialty clinic. This time the test surprisingly came back normal, and this time, the doctor diagnosed me with vestibular migraine.
I’ve struggled with migraines since high school— the searing pain, the nausea, the works, but a vestibular migraine is more sinister I’ve learned.
I’m not completely convinced I’m a vestibular migraine patient (the prescription I’m trying hasn’t done a thing yet), but if this is the case, the vestibular migraine is ruthless. There’s no headache, no pain, just awful dizziness.
Some days, it’s manageable. Other days, it hits me hard and I don’t want to leave the couch, but the worst part of all, is that I don’t feel like me anymore.
I’m a runner who likes the feeling of my blood pumping in my chest. I’m a project person who likes to use a power sander. I like to have the baseboards cleaned and shop at The Container Store.
And right now, I feel like that’s been stripped from me.
And right now, I’m so frustrated with that. But here’s the thing, I’m trusting God in this.
It’s not a pretty trust. It’s not us holding hands skipping together on the beach. It’s me, hanging on for dear life. It’s me, coming to God with a desperate prayer. I don’t know that this will go away. I don’t know what will happen next, but I’m trusting in God and that’s enough for me.