Unfortunately, the opposite is just as true. I discussed in an earlier post the frustration experienced when an individual makes a well-meaning attempt to sympathize by saying something like "Oh, I have those little dizzy spells, too" or "I have a friend who had the same thing and saw a doctor. He's fine now." Please understand that there are many types and levels of severity of balance disorder and, while I am pleased that some may be able to get relief, it is not always that simple and such statements tend to trivialize the problem. Some of us must acknowledge, accept and adapt to our tilted world for the rest of our lives.
I am making progress in that endeavor. I gave in and got a Handicap Placard so that I can park close and not have to try to dodge drivers while toddling through parking lots. I have mostly given up grocery shopping and have begun to order online for delivery.
My patio has been re-landscaped for ease of care to accommodate my lack of balance.
Driving to a business about 2 blocks from home, my routine route was disrupted by construction at the intersection and, reading the sign that stated "Left lane must turn left", I stayed left to go straight through believing it to be right. Not bad enough that I did it once, I didn't realize what I had done and thought that I was the only one who got it correct until I did it again on the way back. I actually did the smack to the forehead "Duh" thing.
I have acknowledged and accepted that I can no longer drive in unfamiliar areas, after dark, when I'm tired, or with another person in the vehicle as I cannot be distracted in the least. Consequently, I drive very little. I do just fine so long as there are no detours on my route.
For those who may have wondered about any progress with the University of Washington trials of vestibular implants. My attempts to become a candidate are ongoing. It seems that both my doctors at University of Arizona Medical and the one in charge of the trials at UW have inept administrative assistants and letters, faxes, calls are not acknowledged. An audiologist at UA was to follow up for me over a month ago and get back to me and has not. I will see my UA doctor to discuss with him face-to-face in two weeks.
A couple odd, interesting challenges that happen to one who has suddenly lost word/sound recognition:
I heard a beep that sounded like a truck backing up but not as rapid. I walked my entire house and even stepped outdoors front and back searching for the source. Because the volume never changed and the beep never stopped, I finally suspected a problem with my hearing aids. With one out, the beeping stopped entirely. I changed the wax guard and the battery, replaced it and there has been no mysterious beep in my head since.
When I put my hearing aids in one morning, I heard a mechanical whir. Believing that my old ceiling fan might need some attention, I turned it off. The whirring continued. I opened my balcony door to see if it was coming from outdoors. It was not. I walked across the room and realized that I had failed to turn off my new-to-me humidifier. I have used it several nights but, because I had turned it on after my aids were out at night and had been turning it off before I inserted the aids the next morning, I had no idea it made such a noise. I wouldn't be able to sleep with it running if I weren't nearly deaf. A blessing in disguise!
I borrowed the title of this post from a comment on FaceBook by a fellow member of VEDA. I still mourn the loss of my energetic, independent self and the demise of fun future plans, but little by little I am learning to AAA = Acknowledge. Accept. Adapt
