When I got out of bed on Tuesday the room was spinning. At first, I hoped it was simply vertigo from jumping up too quickly or sleepiness from being woken by my dog half a dozen times during the night. But it wasn’t.
This happened to me last year and took me out for a few days. After a visit to the urgent care, I was diagnosed with a blocked Eustachian tube and instructed to take some pills. So this time, I recognized the symptoms and immediately popped some pills, hoping for the best.
The rest of the morning was somewhat miserable. My head throbbed. The room kept spinning. I felt like I was about to vomit. I got the chills and broke out in cold sweats. My mouth watered.
I was sick. I wanted to call out to God and my wife for help. I always do.
The first, I don’t believe in. The other, died 4 years ago.
It’s no surprise that my natural inclination is to call out to them. I prayed to God for most of life – begging, pleading and wishing for everything from sunny weather to pain relief to my parents not getting divorced. It never worked.
My wife, on the other hand, is one of the only people who ever comforted me when I was ill*. She would rub my head. She would hold me tenderly in her arms and kiss my forehead. She’d bring me medicine, soup and icepacks. She’d check in on me and would keep the house dark and quiet so I could rest. Even when I would go into “sick cat” mode and only want to be left alone, she would quietly comfort me.
Of course my mind goes right to her when I am sick.
Fortunately, the medicine (or happenstance) cleared my Eustachian tubes that afternoon. For now, I’m maintaining a steady dose of meds until I’m certain this episode has passed.
I can’t call on God or Ellen to take care of me. Neither is there.
*My Aunt Essie was the other person. But she died so long ago that I don’t think of her when I’m sick.