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.
