They spinnin' _______, they spinnin'!

What's a seasonal transition without a spell of vertigo?

Apparently, I will never get to know.

It apparently happened as a child intermittently, and now as an adult living in Austin, TX it has become my yearly reality. My first bout in the Spring of '05 was a bear. Hospitals, IVs, all sorts of neurological exams. A week of double vision and a permenant lack of physical balance on a minor scale were the only scars.

I'm aware of it now. Keenly. My first hint should have been a gradual increase in me stumbling over my own two feet and bumping into things. The second hint should have been the occasional bouts of nausea that come and go. The third sign should have been the fact that everything appears to have been coated in vaseline through my eyes. But no...the serious sign was last night when I felt my eyes jerking across the page I was trying to read. I turned on my side in bed to get comfortable, and the world began it's gentle sway.

Shit. Not again.

I closed my eyes, let the book tumble off the side of the bed and abruptly called it a night. And then when I woke up this morning, I felt as if I was moving underwater.

It could be worse. It actually may be worse, but only time will tell.  It could be meniere's disease. How will I know? Not sure. Right now, we monitor and track cool things like weird eye movements and inner ear fluids and lots of fun cranial activities. Can it be diagnosed? Not concretely. Is it possible to predict an attack? Sometimes, but not always. Is there a cure? Nope. Is there any reason to be freaked out? Not unless I'm behind the wheel of a vehicle when the next bout hits.

For now, I prevent more serious bouts by irrigating my sinuses. (Don't laugh, it works wonders) I hydrate like I'm about to move through the Sahara. I try to stay on top of seasonal changes and what they do to my head. I avoid flying when I know I'm particularly dizzy.

At least, dizzier than usual.