Pursuit of Dizziness

When I was younger, “Dizzy” was a nickname some famous people had—the great MLB pitcher Dizzy Dean (1910-74), the jazz trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie.(1917-93). And in my boyhood, the term was one we’d use for someone who was a little, well, weird. “That kid is dizzy”—that sort of thing.

Well, it’s now a nickname I’ve kind of given myself—not because I’m odd (though I am) but because I now have to battle with actual dizziness throughout the day.

As I wrote here another time, I’ve had to give up (temporarily, I hope) my (dreaded) practice of going out to the local health club/gym most afternoons. I’ve fallen a couple of times out there—not doing anything too dramatic, just walking laps around the indoor track. Going there has just gotten, well, dangerous for me.

It’s gotten worse over the past year, so our family physician is now dealing with it. Back in 2017 I went through a bunch of tests for her—including a brain MRI. Inconclusive. (I love telling the story that the report after the MRI said that my brain was “unremarkable.”)

After those tests, I just ... dealt with it ... as best I could. I had already discovered that I was fine lying down, pretty fine sitting, not-so-fine after being on my feet for, oh, ten minutes or more.

There are some suspects: my BP med (she had reduced my Rx by half, but I’ve not really noticed any substantial improvement). My pulse is low—in the 47-50 range most of the time. That can be a problem.

And, as I’ve said, I’ve taken some falls— not only out at the gym but in the house (nothing drastic) and outside. I had a fairly bad one a week or so ago—the ice on the sidewalk was no help! I wasn’t hurt, but I couldn’t get up (I had a heavy backpack with me), so I called Joyce, who fortunately was home (only about thirty feet away!), and she came out to help me up—brushed snow from my coat, brushed shame from my dignity. (She’s really good at that—an has had a lot of practice in our half-century together.)

So far I haven’t really hurt myself—bruises to body and ego—but here’s the complication: One of the cancer meds I’m on has the delightful side-effect of weakening my bones. (I’m taking other meds to somewhat counter that problem.) So, naturally, I worry that some mild fall will have a not-so-mild consequence. I’ve been lucky.

So ... we’re going to pursue some more testing, including another brain MRI in a couple of weeks (painless—but frightening). I’ll settle again for “unremarkable,” believe me.

And all I can do is hope that the tests reveal something that therapies can remediate. It’s a horrible thing, having to be circumspect about every step I take, lying down frequently throughout the day to recover lost balance, feeling that I’m becoming more and more dependent, less and less able to bear my share of responsibilities at home. Etc.

As I said, I have learned to cope (somewhat), but I despise this period of being Dizzy Dan, who can neither pitch nor play the trumpet.