I have Central Vestibular Dysfunction. That means that the part of my brain that leads to the vestibule of my inner ear does not function properly. What that means to the laypersons around me is that I am always dizzy, no matter how much Dramamine I eat.
It also means that whenever I leave my house, I must carry a cane. I am still a young person- I am only thirty-two years old. Sometimes, I hate the cane. It is an unpleasant reminder of the things I can no longer do and of the severe changes I have had to make in my life.
One of those changes is moving slowly, as one would expect a person to move who uses a cane. I dislike it. I get left behind by my husband and children in stores and parking lots all of the time. They just can't seem to slow down enough for me to keep up. It is not their fault. I don't feel they are being inconsiderate. I have to take slower, shorter steps in order to walk from place to place.
This causes my back and legs to hurt, because human women are not meant to take short, slow, cut-off steps. We are meant to stand up straight and take full, fluid steps. I wouldn't want my family to take the slow, small steps I take from Point A to Point B. I don't want them to feel the cramped and aching, dull, persistent pain I feel when I have to walk very much because of my dizziness. I have accepted the fact that I am unable to keep up, and that they will leave me behind, and stop and wait impatiently until I catch up. They don't mean to be inconsiderate- none of them knows how to move this slowly, and they can never know unless they have a problem much the same. I would never want this for them.
I struggle to perform certain tasks- quickly changing the position of my head can cause a fall, because I can't adjust to the change in position quickly. This makes it difficult to remove a bag of sugar from the top shelf, for instance, or to mop a floor. I have learned how to do these things, and I do try to perform every reasonably safe task I can. I don't climb on step stools or ladders or chairs. I use a gripper stick to reach items that are high up, or in low places. If I cannot reach the item safely this way, I ask for help.
Asking for help was perhaps the hardest thing for me to deal with when I began to be dizzy last year. I was notoriously independent. I helped other people; other people didn't help me. I didn't need other people, other people needed me. Now the roles are reversed, and it still chafes. I can't drive a car, reach a high shelf, ride a bicycle, or change an overhead lightbulb. I resent losing my independence to this disease.
I wake up dizzy, I go through my day dizzy (and oh, so slow), and I go to sleep dizzy. There isn't much I can do except to live with it. Physical therapy only goes so far, only helps so much. I will be dizzy to some degree or other for the rest of my life.
