There's an App for That! Meniere's, that is.

I just got a message from Max, a reader with Meniere's, who has developed an app for tracking our symptoms and potential triggers.  It's available at the Google Play Store here:

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=net.radair.beatingmenieres



I'm super excited to try this.  Props to Max!

Rest and Meditation to Head Off Attacks

I'm a big believer in meditation and using relaxation techniques to quiet my mind and calm my body.  I've never really been able to tell if stress feeds my Meniere's attacks or if my Meniere's symptoms lower my resistance to stress.  I've tended to always lean toward the latter.  I still think that is true, but I recently read a book that resulted in a paradigm shift in how I see this.

The book is Meniere Man and the Astronaut.  I hate to be critical as obviously the author put his heart and soul into writing and publishing his account of his experience with Meniere's disease, but it is a very amateurish publication.  Nevertheless, he proposed the idea that listening to one's body and immediately backing away from all stressful situations at the first sign of an attack can potentially prevent a full blown episode.  As evidence, he cites another author's work, Full Catastrophe Living, by Jon Kabat-Zinn.

As I'd heard about Kabat-Zinn on an Oprah show some time back and recalled being piqued by whatever it was he was saying at the time, I downloaded the book and began reading.  This is a class act book which teaches meditation and coping skills to people with chronic illnesses.  I've started to implement the techniques suggested by Kabat-Zinn, especially the minute I notice my ear starting to buzz or my body feeling off-kilter.  So far it seems I've been able to halt my symptoms in their tracks after a brief meditation and full body relaxation session.  The key seems to be to catch it early.

I'm not sure how powerful this technique will be in all cases, but either way Kabat-Zinn reminds me that the very best thing we can do when we are suffering is to acknowledge the pain or discomfort and  acknowledge or embrace it.  It sounds counterintuitive but, as Eckart Tolle says, "what you resist, persists."  I have found this to be very true for all challenging situations and suffering I've experienced.  The hard part is to see that I am suffering or ,more specificially, fighting or denying what is real so I can meet it where it is and face it.  But with practice, I think I can master it.

A Mild Attack and an Observation

Post Script: I almost forgot to add the most important potential trigger and related comments about barometric pressure below.  Edited text is in italics.

After many weeks of feeling very well overall, I had a mild attack over the weekend.  Thank goodness, I am still vertigo-free after that little scare in Yellowstone this summer, but I still get random attacks that present as a warm, buzzing sensation in my ear, brain fog, and mini-spins.  For the uninitiated, a mini-spin is a dizzy spell lasting just a few seconds.  These are disorienting enough that they interrupt whatever I am doing and force me to focus solely on remaining vertical and calm until the disturbance passes.  During periods when I am having symptoms, I also have a general, persistent sense of dysequilibrium so I must be careful not to make any sudden movements that could bring on dizziness or a fall.

This latest episode began Friday evening with the telltale increase in tinnitus and that warm, buzzing in my ear.  Probably making matters worse, I stayed up until midnight reading The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck, as I just could not put it down.  I justified staying up well past my bed time by telling myself I would sleep in, but my body had other plans as I woke up at 5:30 am and couldn't go back to sleep.  When I finally got up, I could tell my balance was off and my ear was still buzzing, but I said I would just take it easy, no pressure to do anything that day.

As the day went on, we decided to get our Christmas tree.  But before we could do that, we needed to move furniture around.  With two cats, a dog, and three kids, that means a ton of dust bunnies flying around off the hard floors.  I do know that dust has a terrible effect on my ears and sinuses, so I took an extra allergy pill and shot of nasal steroids to head off the worst of it, but I could definitely tell I was feeling "allergic."

On the way to the tree lot, we stopped at Target for some new tree lights.  By this time, I was feeling very off balance and brain-fogged, so the crowds and noise were really doing a number on me.  At one point, I got separated from Phil and the kids and while turning this way and that, looking down aisles, I was hit with a pretty major, very disorienting spin.  I stopped mid-aisle and rested for a second.  Fortunately, it passed and I hooked back up with the fam.  I made it through the rest of the trip and rested when we got home.

In the end, I got through the evening, but cancelled plans to stop by a friend's holiday party.  I have found that I hate to use "not feeling well" as an excuse not to do something.  I feel like eventually people with think it is just an often-repeated excuse not do something I'd rather not do.  When I need to back out of plans because of my Meniere's symptoms or just because I know I need to rest instead, I prefer to give some other reason.  Weird?

I've never been one to find any tried-and-true triggers than invariably lead up to my attacks.  I tend to believe that, in my own case anyway, much of what causes attacks for me is beyond my control.  But I've recently decided to keep a detailed log of my activities, the weather, sleep, and food intake.  Looking back at the end of last week, if I had to try to identify one or more potential triggers for this weekend's attack, I'd have to narrow them down to:

1. Stress and overdoing it with shopping trips in the days prior.
2. A significant lack of sleep the night before.
3. The dust I was exposed to Saturday morning.
4. Being due for my weekly allergy shot.
5. Barometric pressure.  Specifically a drop in pressure related to storm fronts moving in.

The fourth variable, allergy shots, is one I want to track more closely.  I have thought on several occasions that in the day or two prior to my shot, I seem to have more, yet subtle, symptoms and usually within 24 hours, or less, of my shot, I tend to begin feeling much better.  In hindsight, I also wonder if this had anything to do with my attacks in Yellowstone.  While we were travelling this summer, I messed around with the usual weekly timing of my shots and delayed them a few times, taking them about 10 days apart.  It's something to consider and also ask Dr. Derebery about at my next appointment.

Barometric pressure is the one variable that I do feel triggers my symptoms.  Any time rain rolls in, in fact usually 24 hours prior to the rain coming down, my head gets foggy and I feel pressure in my ears and sinuses.  Often the tinnitus changes with the weather a bit, too.  I have asked for a digital barometer for Christmas to help me better track and correlate any symptoms with some objective data.

As I lay in bed this morning, dreading getting up, I wondered what it was I was feeling and why.  As I sat with my feelings and meditated through them, it dawned on me that what I was feeling wasn't depression, which was my first inclination, but rather it was fear.  Fear that I would feel bad again today (I don't, so far - yay!).  Fear that this might be it, the beginning of a long, unending downward spiral.  Fear of feeling nauseous, brain-fogged, off-balance, and isolated.  Once I knew that was what was stirring around in my mind, I felt I could get up and face it.  The biggest lesson that I have to continually relearn is not to place judgment on my physical and emotional feelings.  When I remember this, everything is so much more manageable.  It is what it is.

Health: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

After being knocked down and drug out by Meniere's disease and then eventually learning to cope (mostly) with the unpredictable and sometimes disabling nature of it's course, I began to wonder where we got the idea that we are somehow entitled to good health?  And why are we surprised when bad things happen to good people?  Where is it written that if we are good, our bodies will spare us suffering?

It is not just my own experiences which have led me to wonder about these assumptions, but also those of my patients, many of whom having varying stages of cancer, severe intestinal diseases, or have experienced a serious trauma.  For the most part, they seem to be good people from all walks of life.  Some are struck down in the prime of their lives and others seem to have skated along through many decades of abusing their bodies before suffering the cumulative effects of their habits.  There is no rhyme or reason to any of it, really.

Looking at this from another angle, I considered the experience of the human race before modern medicine came into being.  I suspect many, if not most, people experienced far more pain, suffering, and discomfort as part of their daily lives which they must have simply had no choice but to accept and live with as best they could.  They were probably surrounded by the suffering of others, as well, so perhaps the individual didn't feel their own circumstances were somehow unusual or undeserved, it was simply a part of life and they perhaps didn't dwell on the unfairness of it all.

Yet with the advent of technology, modern medicine has managed to prevent, cure, and effectively treat many of the things that have ailed us throughout history such that suffering for many ailments is now relatively short-lived or sufficiently masked by medications or surgical interventions.  So, for the rest of us who happen to win the rare-incurable-disease lottery, we often feel a bit like pariahs in our modern, first-world society.

As it turns out, when you join this club, you start to become more aware of the suffering around you and it becomes apparent that you are not alone in your misery.  In fact, when you look a little deeper, you find you know all kinds of people whose suffering is not much different than your own in the big scheme of things.  In my own personal life, I know, or have known, people with MS, cancer, dementia, Parkinson's disease, gluten allergy, ulcerative colitis, Crohn's disease, diabetes (types I and II), drug addiction, birth defects, and chronic, severe migraines.  Most of these people were walking around one day, leading normal, relatively healthy lives, doing the best they could for themselves and those around them, and the next they were either beset by subtle, odd omens that things were not well within or they were handed a sudden, shocking piece of news that turned their entire world upside down.

When you really look around, it becomes easy to see that the human body is rarely perfect in maintaining complete homeostasis, despite our best efforts to somehow ensure that it does.  It certainly does a fabulous job of keeping our hearts beating and the vital organs functioning in tandem just well enough so as to support life even in some very dire circumstances, but systems can, and often do, fail which can result in varying degrees of disability.  What doesn't kill us, can make us very miserable.

In today's environment, it can be relatively easy to overlook the suffering of others.  We don't live in multi-generational homes any longer, our interactions with people are buffered by email, telephones, texting, and a busy, hectic schedule that sometimes prevents us from getting to know our neighbors or even extended family members very well.  So when our body does let us down, it is easy to feel alone, weird, and guilty as if we did something we shouldn't have, or didn't do something we should have.  It has been beat into our minds that we control our destiny.  Well that turns out to be a pretty absurd assertion.  

What I've learned is, no, we don't have the control we think we have over our health or, for that matter, most aspects of our lives.  Understanding and accepting this is an important step in learning to cope with, and accept, the hand we've been dealt so that we can move on.  Learning to identify the things we can control and taking action in those areas can be empowering in a situation that can otherwise feel like it is spiraling down a dark rabbit hole.  Seek and follow the light and there is where you will find hope that you can, indeed, live each day to it's fullest potential within the confines of your imperfect body.

Life of Pi

We took the kids to see The Life of Pi last night.  I had read the book about a year ago and really loved it, but the beauty of seeing a movie is that the beginning is still fresh in your mind by the time the end rolls around.

I had forgotten about all the symbolism in the book.  As I was walking out of the theater and discussing the movie with my husband and kids, I started to wonder about the story those of us with a chronic illness tell ourselves.  In reality, there are only the facts of any given situation, however we often have to come to conclusions based on limited data, so as humans we manage to create elaborate stories around it.

As an example, I find I will latch on to bits of information about Meniere's disease my doctor has told me or something I've read on the web to help me understand what is happening to me.  My mind will accept something as fact on limited data only to be humbled by a conflicting piece of information down the road.  This can either be deflating or elating, depending on which story places me in a better position to be hopeful.  In either case, it is an emotional roller coaster.  And based on a story built on limited facts.

I won't give the end of the Pi story away but I will tell you that it left me thinking that oftentimes you just have to believe the story of others on faith alone.  However, the story we tell ourselves might just be the one that gives us the most hope for the future so we conveniently select, or embellish, the facts in order to make our situation tolerable.

(Another) Failed Attempt at Diuretics

When I was first diagnosed with Meniere's disease, my local doctor started me on hydrochlorothiazide (HCTZ), as diuretics are often the first line of treatment for attempting to manage symptoms.  I took it for almost 2 years with no appreciable effect, however I was afraid to stop in case I might actually feel worse by not taking them.  Though, at the time, that was hard to imagine!  I also religiously followed my doctor's advice to eat a low sodium diet and avoid alcohol and caffeine.

After getting gent injections and starting on famciclovir and allergy shots, my symptoms stabilized greatly so I felt confident in stopping the diuretic and liberalizing my diet a bit.  I am still careful with my sodium intake, to protect my other ear (in theory), but I do drink 2 cups of coffee a day and have an occasional glass of wine without any apparent negative effects.

However, in the past year I have woken up twice unable to hear well out of my good ear.  I felt some mild pressure in there, as well.  As in the early stages of my bad ear going south, the pressure dissipated over the course of about 24 hours and, inversely, my hearing improved over the same time period.  The evening prior to the most recent episode, we had guests over for dinner and I know I ate a lot more sodium than usual and I also drank several glasses of wine.  When I reported this to Dr. Derebery at my last appointment in October, she encouraged me to watch my diet more carefully and suggested I go back to taking diuretics, prescribing triamterene-HCTZ (Maxide) this time.  She did add the caveat that I could take just 1/2 to 1 tablet, as needed, if/when the symptoms returned.

I figured I'd give 1/2 tablet a day a try to see if anything improved in general.  By the second day, I felt terrible.  I was constantly dizzy.  Not a low blood pressure type of dizzy, but a change in ear pressure type of dizzy.  It reminded me of how I felt those first 2 years on diuretics.  Looking back, I wonder if a lot of my suffering could have been attributed to the HCTZ?

I stopped taking the triamterene-HCTZ after those first few days and the dizzies stopped.  I will, however, to continue to follow a low- to moderately-restricted sodium diet.  Just in case.

Good Days

As most people with Meniere's know, there are a lot of ups and downs in living this disease.  When you're sick, you wonder if you'll ever feel better and, when you're well, you wonder when the beast will rear its ugly head again.

In July, after my last post, we travelled to Yellowstone National Park to visit my in-laws who happen to live there in the summer.  We had been once before several years ago when the kids were little and before I had Meniere’s disease.  We were excited to take the kids back now that they’re older and could appreciate the amazing beauty of the park.

I had been feeling much better in the months preceding our trip, thanks to starting allergy shots in the early spring.  Even though I still was having some stretches of imbalance and fatigue, it was nothing I was too concerned about.  So I packed my Valium and felt confident I could make the trip without any serious problems. 

I did well on the drive up to Yellowstone, including our stops in Las Vegas and Salt Lake City, but, 24 hours into our 4-day stay in the park, I began to have vertigo again after more than a year vertigo-free.  The first time, I was all alone, with no cell phone reception, in the lobby of the Lake Hotel.  It was very scary, but I tried not to panic, took a Valium and rested on a sofa in front of the fireplace for about 30 minutes.  I was then able to meander back to our cabin across the parking lot and collapse in bed.  It happened again in the middle of the night, as well as the next day on the drive to see Old Faithful.  I felt terrible asking my husband to turn around and take me back to the cabin.  At that point I knew I would not be able to even get out of the car and they would not be able to enjoy themselves worrying about me sitting all alone, waiting for them.  I felt even worse the next day when my family decided to cut out our next planned stop in Jackson, Wyoming out and just get me back down to Salt Lake City.  In the end, it did seem the 7,700-foot elevation was what brought the vertigo on and, thank god, it has not come back since.

Despite the fact that the vertigo again went away after we left the high elevation, I was off-balance and exhausted for the next two months.  It was all the more stressful by coming home to many new changes.  All in the same week in August, I started a new job, the kids went back to school, and my parents came for a visit.  It was a very busy time and I was really struggling to just get through each and every hour. 

To make matters worse, no one at my new job knows my history or even that I have hearing loss, so I really had to put on a good face and hope for the best.  I really worried the constant dizzies and exhaustion might be my new normal and that I might not make a good impression in my new position.  But, somehow over time,  I have found myself back to a tolerable baseline with day- or two-stretches of minispins and bouncing sensations alternating with periods of feeling pretty good.

I try not to think too much about the future.  I am pretty pessimistic about staying well indefinitely.  My goal has always been to just get my kids raised and to give them as normal of a childhood as possible.  I have 8 more years to go and will do anything to get through them as vertical as possible.  In the meantime, I continue to just be grateful for each day I am able to leave the house on my own and contribute to the lives of those around me.

Hearing Aid, Good Book, and Motivation to Blog

Yes, yes, it's been a very long time since I've posted anything to my lonely little blog.  The reasons are all good, though: it's simply that I've been mostly healthy and very busy with a new job, the kids, and just living life.  It has made me very grateful for this time of relief as this disease has made me realize our health can be taken from us at any time.  Knowing this firsthand makes me appreciate the good times and prioritize what I want to do and accomplish during them.  It's a good life lesson.

I will try to write in more detail on another thread about my decision to finally get a hearing aid, but ultimately I did finally come to the conclusion that I shouldn't put it off any longer.  My hearing loss became really exhausting to live with and I could see it was frustrating everyone around me, too.  I hated to spend the money, not because I'm not worth it, but because my family has had other medical expenses this year and I just kept thinking if I could just pay those off first, it would be better to go that route.  Oh, well, it's been a good decision and I am happy overall with the result of the hearing aid.

Finally, my motivation to try to write more consistently has come from reading this book:

Finding Balance, by Sue Hickey

Wow.  I am only half way through it, but I find I can relate so much to the author's experience in finding a diagnosis for, and living with, her vestibular disorder.  Her condition (at least what I know so far) is different from mine, and it only took me a few weeks (not two years!) to have a name for what I have, but nevertheless she has had to journey through dealing with the general lack of knowledge about vestibular conditions by most medical professionals, understanding and accepting her limitations, and finding a way to live with and accept this beast of a disease.  I can't recommend it enough to anyone with a vesitublar disorder, if only to commiserate with another person who understands the strange ups and downs of it all.

So here's to trying to put fingers to keyboard again!

Hijacking

I haven't had much time nor the inclination to create a blog post from scratch lately but, as I come across the great posts of others, I feel compelled to share them.  Here's one from a fellow chronic disease sufferer who is "Turning Straw into Gold".  This is a very articulate explanation of what wonderful things to say to a person who is either partially or totally disabled by an illness.

What Those With Chronic Pain or Illness DO Want to Hear You Say

Here’s what the chronically ill wish you’d say to them.

Published on July 5, 2012 by Toni Bernhard, J.D. in Turning Straw Into Gold

As a follow-up to last week’s piece, "What Those with Chronic Pain or Illness DON’T Want to Hear You Say", I thought it might be helpful to let others know what we wish they would say to us.
“You look so good, but how are you really feeling?”
It’s hard for us to respond to comments like, “You look so good” (or the always dreaded, “But you don’t look sick”) because we know that you’re just trying to be nice. If we respond truthfully with, “Thanks, but I feel awful,” you might be embarrassed or think we’re being ungrateful. It would be such a relief to be asked a question that goes to the heart of the matter: “How are you really feeling?”
“I’m going to the grocery store, can I pick anything up for you?”

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This is a helpful question, as opposed to, “Call me if there’s anything I can do” (from last week’s piece). As I said there, we’re unlikely to respond to such an open-ended offer, meaning we won’t call and say, “Can you go to the grocery store and get me some dish soap?” We don’t want to make you go somewhere that you aren’t otherwise going. But if you let us know that you’re already going to the store, that’s a different matter entirely!
In fact, the more specific your offer of help, the better. For example, we’d love to hear an offer to do one of those life tasks that back up for us because we’re not well enough to get to it: take our car for an oil change (we’ll pay for it!); weed in our garden for a bit; do a load of laundry; even clean our refrigerator.
“It must be hard to be sick and in pain all the time,” or “Not being able to work must be so frustrating,” or “I imagine it’s a daily grind to have to pace yourself so carefully.”
These comments are examples of “active listening,” a child raising technique I learned when my two kids were young. I wasn’t always as skillful at it as I wanted to be, but the idea is to let your kids know you’ve really heard their concerns by feeding back to them, in your own words, what they’ve said.
For example, if your daughter is afraid of the dark, instead of trying to talk her out of how she’s feeling by saying, “There’s no reason to be afraid of the dark,” or “You’re too old to be afraid of the dark,” you feed back her feelings to her by saying, “The dark is scary to you.” When you actively listen in this way, children feel heard and validated. This makes it easier for them to overcome a fear because they know you’re taking their concern seriously and that you’re trying to understand it from their point of view. We who are chronically ill want to feel heard and validated. We want to know that you understand how we feel. In fact, everyone—sick or not—wants to know that others understand them!
To active listen, put yourself in another’s shoes and think about how you’d feel if you were in his or her circumstances. Then feed those feelings back by saying, for example, “You must feel sad and disappointed that you can’t go to the party.” I hope all of you have experienced the relief that comes from feeling deeply listened to.
“How are you holding up? Do we need to stop visiting so you can rest?”
What a blessing it would be to hear a visitor offer this “prompt.” I’ve lost count of the number of times my body was telling me to lie down, but I didn’t excuse myself. Even if we’re wilting away or are in bad pain, most of us are unlikely to bring it up ourselves because we don’t want to let you down. But if we know you’re aware of and sensitive to our limitations, we’ll respond honestly.
“I miss going out to lunch together,” or “I miss going to the movies with you,” or “I miss going to the mall together.”
Speaking personally, I want to hear a heartfelt expression of the way you feel about how things have changed for us. It lets me know that you value our relationship.
“Don’t feel bad if you have to cancel our plans at the last minute. I’ll understand.”
What a relief this would be to hear! I used to force myself to keep commitments even if I was too sick to leave the house. Invariably, it led to a bad “crash.” I’m much better now about cancelling plans if I have to, but I still feel bad about it unless those plans were made with one of my “it’s okay to cancel” friends. I treasure them.
“Would you like to hear about this crazy adventure I had yesterday?”
You bet I would! Some friends don’t want to tell me about what they’re up to, especially if it’s something exciting. They think that talking about their lives will make me feel bad since I’m so limited in what I can do. But hearing about another’s adventure makes me feel connected to the world and adds real-life adventure to what I often just have to get off the TV.
“I hope you’re as well as possible.”
To those of us living day-to-day with health challenges, this comment is so spot-on that many of us just use the initials AWAP when communicating with each other, as in, “I hope you’re AWAP.” Reflecting on this, wouldn’t it be a compassionate comment to make to anyone? Everybody has his or her share of stresses and sorrows—in sickness andin health. And so, my wish for everyone reading this piece is that you’re AWAP.
Is there something you wish friends or family would say to you? Please feel free to share it with others the comments section.
© 2012 Toni Bernhard
I'm the author of the How to Be Sick: A Buddhist-Inspired Guide for the Chronically Ill and their Caregivers, winner of the 2011 Gold Nautilus Book Award in Self-Help/Psychology. Website: www.howtobesick.com
I appreciate your shares on Facebook, Twitter, etc. You can also click on the envelope icon and email the piece to others. Thanks!

Anxiety and Depression in Meniere's Disease

It's been a long time since I've posted, but I came across this article this morning that really nails the psychological toll that having Meniere's disease can have.  I've definitely experienced all of these emotions.  I am emotionally much better off now having the vertigo controlled, but I frequently fight the fear of it coming back or, worse, it going bilateral.

Here's the article, with the link below:

Anxiety and Depression in Meniere's Disease
by Dr. Mary Alm

Posted: June 30, 2012 | Author: dralm | Filed under: Chronic Illness | Tags: anxiety, depression, meniere's disease |Comments Off

Becky is worried and sad.  A new school year is about to start and her vertigo attacks seem to be more frequent.  Last year, she had to take many sick days because she was recovering from a vertigo attack or her tinnitus was too loud for her to hear the students in her second grade class.  She loves being a teacher and she doesn’t want to quit or lose her job, but her Meniere’s disease seems to be getting worse.  Becky doesn’t know what to do. She feels afraid and helpless.

Becky is not alone.  Anxiety and depression are common among those with Meniere’s disease, an incurable and debilitating inner ear disorder, characterized by tinnitus, periodic episodes of vertigo, ear pressure, and progressive hearing loss.  People with Meniere’s disease are more likely to be depressed and anxious than people who do not have inner ear problems.

Causes of Distress

There are several reasons for the higher rates of anxiety and depression.  The symptoms of Meniere’s disease are unpleasant and can be unbearable.  Vertigo is often terrifying.  Tinnitus can be very loud and internal ear pressure can be excruciating.  Many have difficulty with word retrieval and thinking clearly, which can interfere with work or normal conversation.  The unpredictability of symptoms also causes much anxiety.  Some people experience more intense symptoms with weather changes, stress or fatigue.  Many have vertigo or an increase of other symptoms that come without warning.

The permanency of Meniere’s disease is also hard to bear.  People with Meniere’s disease may become sad and anxious after realizing that they will have the disorder for the rest of their lives.  Their sadness and anxiety may worsen when they lose more of their hearing or if the other ear becomes affected.   Having louder tinnitus or more frequent vertigo attacks can also cause more distress.

Symptoms often interfere with normal life.  People with Meniere’s disease may be unable to fulfill responsibilities at work, at home or in the community.  Others may not understand how Meniere’s disease impacts the ability to do common tasks.  Bosses may expect those with Meniere’s disease to be as productive as your coworkers.  Spouses may expect household chores to be done.  Friends may feel slighted if the person is not able to socialize.   People with Meniere’s disease may develop feelings of guilt if they are unable to meet the expectations of others.  Symptoms may lead to reduced responsibilities at work, termination from a job, family conflict and social isolation.  These situations often cause much distress.   Many people experience grief for the lives they once had and for plans and dreams that can no longer be realized.

Health Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders and Depression

An excessive worry or preoccupation with symptoms may result from having horrible experiences with symptoms and fear that the illness will get worse.  This extreme worry is called health anxiety.  People with health anxiety become very concerned with any slight changes in their symptoms.   These minor changes can lead to much distress.  If left untreated, health anxiety can spiral to hypochondria, which is when one worries about symptoms or an illness that the person does not have.  People with Meniere’s disease are at risk for developing health anxiety because the disorder is chronic, degenerative, incurable and unpredictable.

The distress of having Meniere’s disease can become so great that an anxiety disorder develops.  Panic attacks, agoraphobia, and generalized anxiety disorder are anxiety disorders that may be seen among those with Meniere’s disease.   Some people also show a few signs of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).  Signs of the various anxiety disorders are distinctive.  A panic attack is an episode of intense fear that is quite frightening.  Some other signs of panic attack include a racing heart, shortness of breath, dizziness or sweating.  In agoraphobia, a person is afraid to be in a situation in which escape may be difficult, such as being in a crowd.  Generalized anxiety disorder is worrying about many different things.  PTSD is triggered by a traumatic event.  People with PTSD have flashbacks, nightmares or uncontrollable thoughts about the traumatic event.  They may be hypervigilent or have difficulty concentrating.

People with Meniere’s disease may feel sad when they reflect about how their illness has impacted their lives.  They may feel worthless, helpless and hopeless.  These feelings may indicate depression.  People who are depressed feel sad or have lost interest in doing enjoyable activities.  They may feel extremely tired and have insomnia or sleep too much.  Some other signs of depression include appetite changes, feelings of guilt, difficulty focusing on things, irritability and thoughts about death or suicide.

Help for Anxiety and Depression

            If you or a loved one has signs of anxiety or depression, it is recommended that you seek help from a psychologist.  Research shows that talk therapy is an effective way to reduce anxiety and depression and has longer-lasting effects than medication.  A psychologist will refer you to a psychiatrist if you also need medication to treat depression or anxiety.  Finding a psychologist who is knowledgeable about Meniere’s disease and who makes you feel comfortable is important.  To find a psychologist, ask your health care provider for a referral.  You can also search the websites forPsychology Today and GoodTherapy.org for psychologists and other mental health professionals in your area.

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Friendly Reminder About Coping with a Chronic Illness

I'm still plugging along and have been feeling very well overall.  I try to enjoy every moment of having the energy to stay as busy as I have lately, but sometimes a little bug creeps into my brain and taunts me   for wanting to stay this way forever the way Ralphie was taunted for wanting a Red Ryder BB Gun for Christmas in my favorite holiday flick, "A Christmas Story".  Everyone tells him, "You'll shoot your eye out!  You'll shoot your eye out!"  But in my case, I the voice I hear say, "This good feeling won't last forever!  This good feeling won't last forever!"

It's nice when I come across something that reminds me I'm not alone.  I liked this:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/turning-straw-gold/201205/11-tips-11-years-sick

Sage Words from Michael J. Fox

This beautiful Easter afternoon, after putting a lasagna together for dinner and prepping some fruits and veggies for the week, I carved out an hour to relax and read this month's Oprah Magazine, a guilty pleasure.  In one of the features, Oprah asked several high-profile people to write a letter of advice to their younger-selves.  I found Michael J. Fox's letter especially poignant and a testament to the lessons learned from living with a chronic illness.  It is now hanging on my fridge as a daily reminder.  Here it is (the italics are mine):

Dear Michael,

When the time comes to chase your dreams, and it will, they may seem elusive; but know you won't catch them all at once.  Just one challenge at a time.

When success comes, and it will, don't gobble it up - savor and share it, and it will last.

When love comes, and it will, don't bury it in expectation and projection - be prepared to fall in love all over again every day.

When the unexpected and inconceivable intrudes on life, and it will, deal with life's actual events - don't obsess about perceived eventualities.

Relax - enjoy the ride.

Michael J. Fox,
50, actor and activist


I want to quote one other accomplished person from this article whose words rang true for me.  I needed to hear this now as the dynamics at my job are changing and new opportunities just might come along because of it.  As anyone with Meniere's knows, we wake up every morning wondering if we will be able to accomplish everything we set out to do, both in the immediate future and in the months and years to come.  Cecile Richards, 54, president of Planned Parenthood Federation of America, wrote, in part, to herself (again, I added the italics):

"Most important, never turn down an opportunity.  There's always going to be a reason to say no: You don't have the right clothes, the right experience, the right connections.  Learn to say yes anyway."

Or you might have Meniere's.

Three Years

Tomorrow marks the 3rd anniversary of my first vertigo attack and the subsequent hell of Meniere's that ensued.  For the sake of transparency, I must admit that I believe I did have a vertigo attack several months prior to April 1st, 2009, but had not made the connection at that time between the episodic pressure and hearing loss and the sudden illness that took me over one afternoon in the grocery store.

I have learned a lot about myself and others from my experience thus far, mainly that I can endure a lot and that life goes on around me, with or without my participation.  I prefer to be a part of it as much as I can, so I soldier on whenever possible.  When I simply cannot leave my bed or my house, I try to take that in stride, too.

I am writing this today, March 31st, because tomorrow I will be attending a funeral.  My friend, Sharon, whom I wrote about several weeks ago, succumbed to breast cancer last Thursday morning, March 22nd.  Her illness and death are a brutal reminder that as frustrating and uncomfortable Meniere's disease makes my life, it will not kill me.  It might try to kill my spirit, and that is a battle at times, but it will not kill my body.  Having known Sharon and being witness to the fact that terrible things happen to good people is a sober reminder that all things are relative.

Tomorrow I will mourn the loss of a person who touched a tremendous number of lives directly and indirectly and whom will be greatly missed by her family, friends, and community.  But I would be lying if I didn't admit that this April 1st I will also mourn my own loss of the otherwise carefree life I used to take for granted.  Every morning starts with uncertainty for all of us, I suppose, and for now one of my uncertainties is at least loosely defined for me by Meniere's.  I never know how well I will be able to hear, walk, think, and feel any given day depending on the whims of a little organ about the size of a pencil eraser inside my right ear.

Strength When There is Nothing Else

And the second thing I wanted to post this week is a quote I saw in, of all places, a wallpaper app for my tablet.  Lol!  But it struck a chord with me so here it is:

You don't know how strong you really are until strong is all you have.


I have found this to be true twice in my life so far.

The first time was when I had three babies under the age of two.  There was, and still is, no break from parenting.  But in those first two years, my husband and I summed it up in one word: Relentless.

Of course, the second time I had to rely on "strong" was living through the bowels of Meniere's disease.  I am happy to say I've had a reprieve, but the first two years of that experience, too, were Relentless.

In both cases, I had no choice but to succumb to reality.  I had to embrace what I could not change.  The only things I could change were my expectations.  I don't want to say I lowered them, because really it was much harder to rise up to the respective challenges and face them head on than it would have been to just let them consume me.

When being "strong", we have to acknowledge and accept our limitations.  Trying to fight them takes valuable energy that can be put forth instead in reevaluating what our expectations for our life are and then have the ability to let some of them go and rebuild new ones.  Oftentimes we simply cannot do this until faced with no other choice.  Or the only other choice being one that involves being consumed with hate, anger, and frustration.  Strong is finding a way to move past these necessary stages of grieving and finding new peace someplace you would have not otherwise thought to look for it.

Sometimes you have to admit you are weak to find out you are strong.  You must acknowledge that some things are just beyond your control and that that is okay.  Then Strong shows up and carries you through.

Suffering

I have two blog posts in me today.  I'll start with the one that has consumed my thoughts this week.  It is about suffering.  The most intense, unavoidable suffering.

A friend is dying, losing her life to breast cancer.  My relationship with her has been one on a social level amongst mutual friends and as volunteers at our kids' school.  She is our acting PTA president and I was previously the co-chair of one of the committees, so I've had the pleasure to observe her natural, beautiful ability to bring people together and lead them toward a common goal.  She exuded leadership, grace, energy, and an overt love for life even from afar.

This past year when her cancer returned, we had a couple of conversations about watching life pass us by while holed up at home with our respective illnesses and how much it sucked.  She knew I had Meniere's disease because last year I felt I had to relinquish my PTA responsibilities due to the unpredictable nature and disabling symptoms of the disease I was experiencing at the time.  And I knew her cancer had returned when I saw her at the community pool last summer.  Admirably, she has had an honest and open policy about sharing her diagnosis and treatment with those of us around her in a very public, yet graceful, way.  She seemed as concerned about how her friends and family were coping, as we all were about how she was doing in this most difficult time.

What really, really sucks is that she has an 8-year old son and a 7-year old daughter.  Need I say more?

My last direct communication with my friend was an email she sent to me about three weeks ago.  She asked me how I was doing (!) and said she reached out to me because she felt I could understand the frustration she was feeling with being confined to her bed due to the weakness, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea she was experiencing from chemo (and, in hindsight, the progression of the cancer to her liver).  She hated that life was going on all around her and she couldn't be a part of it.  She didn't have to say it, but I'm sure she felt the worst about not being able to care for and be there for her children.

I always fear saying the wrong thing to someone in these sensitive situations.  Having my own chronic illness has taught me a little more about the fine art of offering support without hopefully saying something stupid.  In this case, though, I wasn't sure if I was successful... she was never able to reply to my email and therefore we didn't get a chance to discuss it.  But what I told her in my email was that I did understand what she meant and that I, too, hated watching life go by as a bystander to all the action.  I then shared my favorite mantra with her, with the caveat that "it works for Meniere's, but I don't know if it works for cancer."  It is the Buddhist saying I've shared here before, "Suffering is the result of wanting things to be different than they are."

Less than a week later, she entered the hospital.  After a last ditch effort at more chemo, the doctors delivered the bad news - there's nothing more that can be done.  She is home now, surrounded by her family and close friends, being cared for and supported by hospice.

While I think the intent of the Buddha was to teach us to accept what is and our suffering will be relieved, I just cannot accept that a 43-year old mother with young children to raise, a husband to love, and friends and community who need her should die.

So this week, I have embraced suffering.  Spat it back in defiance at the gods.  It's not fair and none of us wants to accept that this is happening.  I WANT this thing to be different than it IS.  Everyone who knows and loves her wants with all their hearts and souls for this not to be.

Yet - it is.

Holding Steady

Just a quick up-date to report that I've been feeling pretty well lately and things seem to be holding steady.  This morning was the first time in several weeks where I felt the tingling sensation in my sinuses, or somewhere thereabouts, some buzzing in my ear, and the mild brain fog that precedes an attack.  However, as the day went on, other than a couple of very mild minispins, I seem to have pulled through unscathed.  This has happened a few times in the past few months - I've felt an attack was coming on, but my symptoms just went away after a few hours.  That NEVER happened before.  I had always hoped, wanted, that to happen, but my usual pro-drome of symptoms ALWAYS culminated within a day or two into a full-blown attack of vertigo or what later became just some serious dysequilibrium issues.

I am not sure what is happening here.  I'd like to think the allergy shots are effecting the change.  But if there's one thing I've learned about Meniere's disease is that it does what it wants, when it wants to do it and with no apparent rhyme or reason.  So I will just go with the flow of change and not get too attached to the relative peace I've had recently.

My left (good) ear continues to ring more and more and I feel mild pressure from time to time.  Sometimes I think my hearing in that ear is not 100% either.  But I am not going to agonize over it.  I am going to live each day to the fullest and not waste my energy worrying about it since that won't do anything but steal more good hours from my life.  Gotta spend 'em wisely and to me that's time spent NOT thinking about Meniere's.

On that note, back to my regularly scheduled life.

From My Perspective

Whatever you do, refuse to give this Stupid Disease any more of your precious time than it absolutely must take from you.  Direct your anger right back at it and use that energy to beat down fear and anxiety.  If it steals hours on end of time through debilitating vertigo and/or your hearing, look it right back in the face and, every minute you possibly can, get up and go about life to the very best of your ability.


Enlist the support of friends and family.  Let them know you are scared and that if you have an attack while out of your house, you might need their help.  Then go, do as much as you feel you can.


Do not fear the future.  Live today.  Be present in the moment, even when you are spinning.  Learn to meditate, breath, and stay calm even when the world is spinning, swaying, and whipping you around like a bucking bronco.


And when things are at their worst, remember two things: this too shall pass and suffering is the result of wanting things to be different than they are.


Build on this attitude by researching, learning, finding a trusted doctor, and, based on all of this, have a realistic attitude.  Don't ever give up, try new things, but also accept that you have a disease that has the potential to be one of the most disabling, non-life threatening conditions there is.  Be kind to yourself and love yourself where you are.  Things change, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, but they always change.  


Be grateful for all you do have: a warm bed to lie in, a bucket to barf in, clean water to drink when you need it, and nourishing food when you can finally keep it down.  Think of those who suffer worse things in third world countries, people who have been abandoned, mothers whose children don't have enough food to eat or a roof over their heads.  When my world is spinning, these thoughts help me to have perspective and realize things really could be worse.


All the rest will fall into place.

An Allergy Up-Date

I have not been blogging regularly due to being too busy living life.  That is great news and I'm not complaining by any means, but I do always have random ideas floating through my head that I wish I had time to put out into cyberspace.  I like to be able to share my experiences if only to inspire someone else who is struggling to live with Meniere's disease.

Today, my day off, I have a litany of things I "should" be doing, but I really wanted to summarize my experience thus far with the allergy testing and treatment I have been undergoing at House Ear Clinic with Dr. Derebery.  This is a long, wordy post.  It is not meant to make up for lost time blogging.  It is just that I don't have much time to spend on editing today and I'm not sure when I will have the time so I will just post as-is.

I chose to pursue this line of treatment because, despite all that I have tried, including IT and oral steroids, diuretics, IT gentamicin, oral and nasal allergy medications, and antiviral medication (which I still take), I continue to cycle through Meniere's attacks on a regular basis.  The symptoms and pattern have morphed over the past three years and my most recent attacks seem to be occurring every 1-3 weeks and consist of 2-3 weeks of minispins throughout the day, general dysequilibrium, chronic low-grade nausea, fatigue, brain fog, and a buzzing sound and sensation in my right ear.  The attack eventually abates and I am left virtually normal except for a soft whooshing sound in my ear and a little positional vertigo if I turn my head a certain way - all very tolerable.  The time during the attacks, however, not so much.  Though I get by.

I have blogged previously about the beginning of my allergy journey and I've mentioned that I had never considered myself an allergic person.  However, since starting this line of inquiry, I've found that I definitely do have some problems.  Most notably with dusting and vacuuming.  For 24-48 hours after doing this kind of cleaning, I notice a significant uptick in my symptoms.  The more dust I am exposed to, the worse it is.

So I wrapped up the second part of food allergy testing on Tuesday and was relieved, though not surprised, to find out that I did not test positive for any common food allergies.  As I had previously tested positive for several inhaled allergies to things like cats, molds, and common local plants, Dr. Derebery recommended allergy shots.  She explained that for some people, allergic reactions can manifest in our ears.  She is adamant that she does not attribute allergies to the cause of Meniere's disease, but her studies have shown that attacks can be minimized by treating coexisting allergies.  She goes on to say that oral allergy medications typically are not effective enough and do not cross into the inner ear where the reaction is taking place, hence the allergy shots are the only way, other than avoiding all allergens, to effectively treat the symptoms.

I started allergy shots about a month ago and I honestly cannot say up to this point if I've felt worse or better in relationship to the shots.  Dr. Derebery said to expect it to take about three months before noticing a significant difference in my symptoms.  In the meantime, I will continue to take weekly shots and this week I even learned to give myself my own shots.  I was a little creeped out about the thought of doing so, I hate needles, but my 16-year old niece who has had type I diabetes since she was five inspired me.  If she can give herself shots of insulin several times a day, I can give myself an allergy shot once a week.  I was surprised to find it was painless!  I had been getting the shots in my upper arm and that would be a little sore, but now I give them in my hip where I guess all that fat really helps to blunt the discomfort.  Woo hoo!

In addition to the weekly shots, Dr. Derebery also recommended I follow a yeast-free diet.  Apparently about 10 years ago, some doctor claimed that people with mold sensitivities (i.e. Moi) are more likely to have cross-reactivity with yeasts in the diet.  At the time, Dr. Derebery said, this doctor's assertions were poo-pooed by most allergists, but now recent studies have given some credence to the theory so she has begun incorporating the recommendation into her own practice.  While I was given written instructions of what foods to avoid, a quick Google search, if you're interested, will yield lists of foods to avoid including, but not limited to, bread (duh), all alcoholic beverages (boo), cheese and yogurt (wah), anything with vinegar (lots of those things), dried fruits, and most processed foods.  I am going to have to really think about this one.  Many, many of these foods are in my regular diet and I already have a hard enough time finding things to eat that are relatively low in sodium, which I try to stick to if only because it is good for you, and also does not contain beef, pork, cod, or pollack.  The first two meats = yuck.  Cod and pollack produce a terrible GI reaction in me and we'll just leave it at that.

One final diet recommendation Dr. Derebery apparently recommends to just about everyone is not to eat the same foods two days in a row.   Apparently it is felt that by eating the same foods everyday, the immune system can become over-sensitized to the allergens (proteins) in the foods and eventually put allergy-prone people at higher risk for developing a food allergy. So she recommends a 4-day rotation of foods and provides a rotation diet cheat sheet to help with this.  I have to say that at this point in time I have enough on my plate.  This is enough to push me over the edge and since I am not struggling with any direct food allergies, I am going to respectfully decline to put much effort into this right now.  Given that most people in the world eat the same foods every day for their whole lives and are the same populations that have the lowest rates of allergy in the world, I have to second guess this recommendation.  If true, I am sure it's our first world habits and culture that have somehow set us up for immune dysfunction in this regard.

I think that about summarizes things for now.  During the bad weeks, my mind spends a lot of time considering a laby.  I had a hearing test this week and my speech discrimination in my right ear is down to 44%.  And I think some of the words I got right might have just been good guesses.  I really wasn't sure about anything I heard in that ear.  At some point I'd like to discuss the laby option and consider having some testing done to pinpoint just how much vestibular function I have in my bad ear.  If not for the fear of going bilateral, I would have no second thoughts about having a laby.  But I have to remember that this bad ear is going to be of little help in the event of my good ear going south anyway.  Something to still consider, but I need a little break from doctors and appointments for now.  I am still grateful to gent and antivirals for controlling my symptoms just enough to give me more time to consider all of my options and still get by in life.

Riding the Waves of Uncertainty

Yesterday my employer informed us that our company has been purchased by a multi-billion dollar corporation.  This news wasn't entirely unexpected but I think most of us had hoped we would be picked up by another investment group who would allow us to continue along our current business model.   Our manager admits he doesn't know what exactly this will mean for each individual, but there will be some duplication of positions that will need to be eliminated as the merger between "them" and "us" occurs over the next three to 12 months.  My colleague and I are not optimistic about our lot for several reasons.  However, we will heed the advice of management and keep our noses down and our attitudes positive.

I work for a relatively small home infusion pharmacy that has made some steady strides in growth over the past two years.  I've enjoyed being part of a company it's size - not too big, not too small.  I've had the opportunity to work on cases with employees at many different branches and across many disciplines.  Many of the employees have been with company for a long time.  I suspect the feel will not be the same under the new ownership.

On a positive note, if I am retained, the new company is said to have great benefits.  Oh, wait.  I don't qualify for those benefits as I am a per diem employee.  In fact, if I am laid off, I don't think I will even qualify for the rumored severance package.  Given my health and the fact that I have three young-ish kids at home, I have chosen to work part-time.  The only problem these days with part-time work in the healthcare field is employers tend to consider part-time as working 32hours per week.  Yup, four 8-hour days.  Those of us wanting to work a little less, even though we hold a regular schedule, are relegated to per diem employment.  The pros: I set my own hours and only have to commit to work a minimum number of hours per pay period.  The cons: no health benefits, no retirement benefits, and probably no right to a severance package.  It's been a fair trade, I suppose, given the circumstances of the past three years.

It's only been 24 hours since getting the news, but I've been sitting with my feelings and considering the possible scenarios.  If I am retained by Big Brother, there is the possibility it will be with the caveat that I work more hours - or fewer.  I really don't want to do either.  I work about 20 hours a week now and that is perfect.  I may be required to do more work out "in the field".  I admit I have missed face-to-face patient and customer contact tremendously in this position but, given the unpredictable nature of my health from one day to the next, it has been a relief knowing I only have to show up to my quiet, nearby office on work days.  My communication with others is limited to a few office staff and phone contact with patients.  If I am required to spend more time in my car or in the field, I am not sure I can do that reliably.  I know I cannot.  Driving itself isn't always the problem, it's stopping.  Or rather, on a bad-ish day, the sensation that I am still driving long after I am not.  During those times I tend to walk around looking and feeling disoriented.  Then there's the brain fog...

On the other hand, I could be let go.  Unemployed.  God, I love working!  I fear staying home all day, every day.  I've done this and I almost lost my mind.  As much as I admit I am a homebody, I am not mentally equipped to maintain a healthy psyche without outside stimulation.  Yet, as everyone in the Meniere's world will understand, the thought of looking for and starting a new job can be just enough stress to send one into a downward spiral - pun intended.  I cannot imagine having the energy required to be "on" during training sessions and meeting and becoming acquainted with a whole new group of people.  I just cycled through a bad week with lots of dizzies and exhaustion.  I managed to get to work every day, but only because I can do my job with my eyes closed - sometimes literally.

This news has bummed me out in another way, too.  Before Meniere's, I might have been excited about new prospects.  I like a challenge and I enjoy the process of growing personally and professionally.  But Meniere's now significantly limits my enthusiasm to do new things.  I spend an awful lot of my energy fighting my negative emotions.  I have to be mindful.  I have to give myself a lot of positive self-talk just to maintain my status quo.

Ironically, I was recently invited to sit on the board of the local chapter of people-who-do-what-I-do.  My first meeting is tomorrow night.  I will take this as an opportunity to network and put my feelers out for anything I might be able to do should I find myself unemployed sometime in the near future.  I will try to keep an open mind and a positive attitude.  Best case scenario will be that I can stay in my current position with the same general hours and expectations.  But only time will tell and I have to be prepared for anything.

Quote of the Day

“Anger always comes from frustrated expectations.” -Elliott Larson

This was the subject of a post today at Tiny Buddha.  It came along in a timely manner as I woke up with significant brain fog this morning.  Today my head just doesn't feel at all attached to my body and just for kicks, I guess, Mr. M throws in a minispin here and there to needle me even more.

I started the day disappointed and a little frustrated.  But as the hours went on and I muddled through some housework, I reminded myself that this will pass in a day or two and better days will come.  I also reminded myself that I am vertical and, by all outward appearances anyway, am functioning.

So I lowered my expectations for the day and am now floating through the day in relative peace.

The Versatile Blogger Award

I am humbled by my friend, a fellow blogger, Wendy who writes over at Picnic With Ants for nominating me for this award.  I am even a little embarrassed as I have not posted anything here for, let's see, exactly two months!  Bad blogger!  Bad!  No, really, this is good news as I have just been too busy to sit down and write.  As someone with a chronic, and sometimes debilitating, disease, being too busy to do something is a very good sign.

So to honor Wendy's kind mention of my desire to lift up others who suffer from Meniere's disease, or any other chronic condition for that matter, through my blog, I have set aside some time to post 7 things you may not know about me and 5 deserving (IMHO) bloggers.

Seven Things You Probably Don't Know About Me:

1. I was born in Los Angeles, but grew up in Northern Idaho.  As a young adult, I returned to Southern California and met my husband shortly thereafter.  We have since lived in every county in So Cal from Santa Barbara on down to the Mexican Border, with a year each in San Jose and Monterey thrown in.  I've lost track, but I think we have moved upwards of 20 times since meeting.  And, no, we are not in the military.

2. I know a Nobel Prize winner.  My husband worked with Kary Mullis, the man who developed the technique for DNA fingerprinting, at a small start-up bio tech company about 15 hears ago.  I believe one of the first big cases in which this technique was used was the OJ Simpson trial.  Very interesting guy!  Kary, not OJ.

3. Even though I have lived within an hour's drive of either the Canadian or Mexican borders my entire life, I have never left the country.

4. Of my three children, the two youngest are twins.  No, they don't run in my family, I didn't take fertility drugs, and they are not identical - one is a boy and the other is a girl.  Yes, I have my hands full.  No, I am not brave.  And, yes, I feel like I won the lottery.

5. As a dietitian, I specialize in home nutrition support.  In other words, I work with people who for one reason or another cannot swallow or digest food the normal way, so must be on home tube- or I.V. feedings.  I love my job and about the only food advice I give to my patients is, when possible, to eat MORE fat and MORE calories.  I am not someone you want to ask for weight loss advice!

6. I got my driver's license when I was 14-years old.  That was the law in Idaho back in the day.  A scary thought looking back on it.

7. I am half Norwegian, a quarter Italian, an eighth Irish, and an eighth Cherokee.  I have very distinct physical and temperamental traits from each of these ethnic and racial backgrounds.

Five Deserving Bloggers:

I'm afraid I don't follow too many blogs.  I've checked out a few other Meniere's-related blogs.  Some, in my opinion, share unreliable and confusing information, but most just depress me and some downright frighten me.  I love Wendy's blog, though, as she doesn't whine and complain, at least not nearly as much as she's entitled to.  Rather, she is quick to find something positive in everything.  Despite all that Wendy goes through, she remains sharp as a tack and the artwork she shares is inspiring.  Anyway, here are a few blogs I like to read and why:

1. I enjoy reading Nicki's perspective at Fleetly Dreaming.  Nicki and I have a lot in common, but she has muddled through Meniere's much longer than I and has managed to have children, work (until relatively recently), and take life one day at a time, living it with grace and fortitude.

2.  For similar reasons, I like to read Faith, Hope, and a Fighting Spirit.  Deb also has unilateral Meniere's and manages to teach, as well as coach gymnastics - of all things!  I can't imagine being in a gym full of noise, watching people do flips and twirls.  Sometimes when I think I should just throw in the towel and file for disability, I think of Deb and think I can handle my quiet office job a little longer.  I especially appreciate her spirituality and the strength she seems to draw from it.

Now for some non-illness blogs I really enjoy reading:

3. Tiny Buddha.  While I am a Christian, I find a lot of practical wisdom in Buddhism and relate very much to the notion of being mindful of the present.  After all, that's all there ever really is.  When I remember that, I find tremendous peace in my circumstances.  One of my favorite sayings which happens to be from Buddhism is, "Suffering is the result of wanting things to be different than they are."  In my mind, there are no truer words.

4. I have to be transparent here: Jennifer is a close, dear friend of mine.  Her husband and mine have been the best of friends since high school.  Jennifer is one of the most creative writers I know.  Not that I know many.  None really.  But her writing style and subject matter never cease to entertain me.  Jennifer has published a series of children's books, tweens really, about a London squirrel in 18th century Williamsburg.  If you want to read something funny, witty, thought-provoking, and often off-the-wall, check Jen's blog out at Of Course, What Do I Know?

5. As someone who works in healthcare, as well as a person with a chronic, idiopathic, progressive condition, I find reading about healthcare from the perspective of the doctors very interesting.  That's why I like to read KevinMD.  The blogs are written by many different doctors and other healthcare providers and I find their honest, often fallible, admissions to be a reminder that they don't know all the answers.  They are people with doubts, opinions, insights, and questions about medicine and human nature just like the rest of us.  While I've seen many good points made here, I like that it reminds me that ultimately I am the one who is responsible for understanding my condition and how to treat it.

So, that's all for now.  I am hoping to post a little more regularly here in the coming year, simply to share the little things that, when we are feeling well, we take for granted - but shouldn't.  Though, realistically, there will probably be some bad days thrown in as that is what Meniere's disease likes to do to us: give us just enough freedom to regain some semblance of normalcy, then strip it away from us like a super-sticky Band-Aid being ripped mercilessly from a hairy piece of skin.  Gotta love it.