April 2 – “Rocks in her head”

It was Chris' turn yesterday.  She wasn't all that excited about it, but it was time.  She has been there for me through neck surgeries and knee surgeries, neurology appointments and rheumatology appointments, the worst pain of my life and the most annoying pain of my life.  I told her it was simply her turn to be in the spotlight.   She has been having problems with vertigo for several years now.  Sometimes it is worse than others, but it never completely goes away.  It's been odd, actually.  The one time it seems to always hit is when we both collapse into bed and she turns her head to give me a good night kiss.  Wham.  Dizziness hits and the room starts spinning.  Now my theory to explain that has always been quite simply that she is overwhelmed by the power of my love for her.  So it's actually more of a swoon than vertigo.  Makes sense to me.   Apparently not to the doctors.  She saw the ear doc the other day, and he referred her to two places yesterday.  First was the Balance Therapy Center.  Balance therapy.  Hmm.  Sounded to me like they were going to teach her how to walk a tightrope over Niagara Falls.  It didn't help that while we were in the room waiting to get started, we could hear the "action" in their big therapy room next door.  "There now.  You made it all the way across the floor.  Now let's go back the other way walking backwards."  So there is a correct way to walk backwards.  I wanted to watch and learn.   But the highly trained technician joined us and began the actual testing.  Now that was interesting.  I was definitely in the right place to be a spectator.  Chris was outfitted with what looked like the night vision goggles you see in the movies.  They were actually a pair of glasses with little cameras mounted on the frames so the tech could film her eye movements.  The picture of her eyes was displayed on a little laptop computer screen.  Chris has always had beautiful eyes.  Can't say I've ever seen them on a computer screen blown up to about four times their actual size, though.  And I can't say I was able to detect the sparkle that is often there.  Guess she had something else on her mind.    The first few tests were easy.  Without moving her head, she just had to follow a little red light as it moved across her field of vision, first back and forth, then up and down.  I soon realized that I was doing the test too, so I tried to concentrate on the computer screen instead.  Didn't really work.  I was hypnotized by that traveling red light.  The test then changed.  This time Chris was to move her head to follow the light.  Again, not too difficult.  It began to get comical, though, when the tech increased the velocity.  Yes, I was right with her the whole way, loving husband that I am.  I couldn't see the computer screen because I was bobbing and wagging my head faster and faster.  I was glad when she stopped.  I was getting worn out.    The last half of the test was not one I could experience personally.  Chris lay on the table, and the tech brought her head down below the level of the table.  This was beginning to get results.  Chris never complained, of course, but there were a few "whoa's."  Finally, the tech had her lay on her side and turn her head – the infamous "kiss your husband" position.  "Never happen," I thought.  She needs my charisma, my charm, my …"  And there it was.  A really big "Whoa."  So much for my effect on her.  It wasn't the worst point of dizziness, though.  That came when the tech shot cold, then hot air into her ears.  No idea why on that one, but it sure got "results."  The little Chris eyes on the computer screen were totally flipping out.  They were racing back and forth so fast I couldn't follow them.  And Chris was saying things like, "I'm holding on to the table so I won't fall off."  As the eye movements slowed down, Chris indicated the dizziness was passing.   The final conclusion?  The tech said it was obvious that Chris did have vertigo.  "Oh, thank you very much," Chris replied.  "Now I know I'm not completely crazy."  The full explanation was enlightening, though.  There are little crystals in her ear that are supposed to remain in one section.  For some reason they have migrated to other parts of the ear and occasionally press against some of the nerves in there, causing the dizziness.  Ok.  So all we have to do is mine the rocks in her head and she'll be fine, right?  Well, not so much mine as convince them to return to their own hole the head and stay there where they belong.  That appointment is not until next Tuesday.  I can't wait to see what they do then.  Still doesn't tell us why, though.  Is there some underlying secret condition causing those little gems to escape the confines of Crystal Central?  If only we could look in there and see … oh, wait.  That's where we were headed next.  MRI.  And Chris is extremely claustrophobic …   Jeremiah 10:23 says, "I know, O Lord, that a man's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps."   Father, Walk with us through this discovery ordeal.  Give these doctors some wisdom so they can figure out how to give Chris some relief.  Amen.