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Wednesday, May. 05, 2004 / 7:23 p.m. ~Like a Whirlpool, It Never Ends (Yes, it's Name That Tune time!)~ I'm experiencing a bit of vertigo. I think I'd prefer to say it like that instead of continuing to say, Hey, I'm dizzy. I notice it a lot at work, and I'm noticing it right now. It feels like I'm spinning inside my head. I have to focus, purposefully not move, and it lasts a second or four, one-miss-iss-ippi, two-miss-iss-ippi, three-miss-iss-ippi, four-miss-iss-ippi... At work, I blame it on the process. I have to look at a document, on a stand, then at the computer, then back, then back again, then back, and so forth. It hurts my eyes, I squint, I get I told Jane about it today, I held my head in place as I told her, I said, "I think I just need to eat", and she said, "What have you had? Sure, you should eat, go eat a big lunch", but that wasn't it. I ate and it didn't help. I have it now, sitting in this chair. Does this mean it's time to eat again? I've eaten. I said, "Maybe it's an inner ear thing, you know, an inner ear infection, that's it, you know me, I won't go to a doctor, I'll self-diagnose", and I went and sat and tried to hold my head perfectly still as I looked back and forth and back again. Rapid change of subject: again, last night's concert was SO good. But I have David Gray's "This Year's Love" permanently stuck in my head. No Edie songs are there. I loved her, I loved her performance, I lurved it in fact, but the songs aren't there. This morning on the way to work I purposefully sang some of her songs. Then at work I listened to a couple of her CDs in my Walkman whilst I held my head perfectly still during the vertigo spells. Sometimes I think the worst, it's cancer, it's AIDS, it's a brain tumor. I wonder what the symptoms of cancer are, if you show none externally. If skin cancer is not visible yet, if it's in your blood, but the moles aren't all deformed and horrid looking. Are you tired? Are you dizzy, perhaps? Do you have blurred vision? Is there a pain, and is it sharp? Ow, I have cancer. Is that how it is? My mother, what did she do, how did she know? Did she feel the lump in her neck? Hey, what what? A lump? Doctor. Visit. Money. C-word. Radiation. Starvation. Pneumonia. Death. Draw the arrows in on your own. My father did this. Like I'm doing, but he'd already had his kidney out. I'll never forget him pausing in the doorway at my aunt's apartment in Denver. He grabbed the doorjam, he stopped, silent, unmoving, unbidden, unwarranted, un. Are you okay? And he just stood, all synapses halted for that moment. He had passed out in traffic, driving, blacked out, he said. Pop, you can't do that, you'll kill some poor schmoe out for a drive, or someone just picking up her dry cleaning. Brain tumor. Doc says he'll have another couple years if they excise it. Neglects to say they'll be spent in two different nursing homes, and that at the end he'll be unresponsive and uncommunicative. No doctors here, but I have this vertigo thing going on. And last night's concert was sooooo good, I think I'll go to another concert soon, Doc Watson in fact. I don't mind going to concerts alone, really, especially when strangers buy me drinks. If I had anything else to say, I've totally lost it, as I am very dizzy and trying to hold my head very still now. Cost of the War in Iraq
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