From a NYT essay by Adrienne Brodeur about vertigo, caused, in her case, by a brain tumor disabling the vestibular system.
Aptly known as “the labyrinth,” it looks like a miniature “Star Trek” space station with two sacs and three looping semicircular canals arranged at roughly right angles to one another. Fluid moves through the labyrinth stimulating tiny hairs, which act as sensors that monitor the position and movement of your head, sending the brain information about gravity, motion and your body’s relationship to earth.Without a functioning vestibular system, you have to concentrate on you vision and proprioception (described in the article) to keep your balance. I've experienced a malfunctioning vestibular system — not from a brain tumor, but from the detachment of the otoliths that normally weigh down those "tiny hairs" (that is, cilia). You might wake up one morning, move your head slightly, and find the whole room spinning insanely out of control. It's quite awful. Mine was worst the minute it started and eventually went away. But I empathize with the author's predicament.
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I haven't done the math, but my rough estimate is that the ratio of bad things that can happen to you, as opposed to the good things, runs about 5,000:1.
Just getting over exactly what you described as happened to you myself. It's taken a week to get back to normal with no spinning stumbling around. No surfing, no sailing, no biking, no nothing. Completely depressing. But with a negative CAT scan and the Epley maneuver I'm back in and on the water tomorrow. I hope its not a frequent occurrence.
Fly on instruments. Spin at the same rate as the room when you walk and you're okay.
Forced mindfulness--Zen--needs a "lightweight religion" tag, maybe?
ZIOP
In the chapter "The Disembodied Lady" of his book The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, Oliver Sacks describes a woman who lost her sense of proprioception after a routine surgery. It's one of the scariest things I've ever read.
10 Rules to Live By From a Zen Master
1. In the morning before dressing, light incense and meditate
2. Retire at a regular hour
3. Partake of food at regular intervals. Eat with moderation and never to the point of satisfaction
4. Receive a guest with the same attitude you have when alone. When alone, maintain the same attitude you have in receiving guests
5. Watch what you say, and whatever you say, practice it
6. When an opportunity comes do not let it pass you by, yet always think twice before acting
7. Do not regret the past. Look to the future
8. Have the fearless attitude of a hero and the loving heart of a child
9. Upon retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep
10. Upon awakening, leave your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away a pair of old shoes
11. Prove you're not a robot
12. Don't get a brain tumor
@surfed, @Althouse I had that happen to me on a business trip -- I had breakfast with the group but felt nauseous so returned to my room. I lay down but couldn't get up because the room was spinning around. It went away by early afternoon. No problem then or since. Scary at the time.
The scariest part is that you think you might have a brain tumor. I had to get an MRI. It's nice to get the news that nothing of medical interest is happening in your brain.
"4. Receive a guest with the same attitude you have when alone. When alone, maintain the same attitude you have in receiving guests..."
I really like that one. It seems that you'd have to pick a place on a continuum from informality to formality and then stick to it. Which way would you lean?
"8. Have the fearless attitude of a hero and the loving heart of a child..."
I dislike that one. Sentimental bilge.
"9. Upon retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep..."
That's challenging!
"10. Upon awakening, leave your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away a pair of old shoes..."
Now, I want to write "10 Rules to Live By From Ann Althouse."
10. Upon awakening, while still prone, pick up your iPhone and see what's been going on without you.
I've experienced a malfunctioning vestibular system — not from a brain tumor, but from the detachment of the otoliths that normally weigh down those "tiny hairs" (that is, cilia).
The same thing happened to me earlier this year. The first time it evidenced, I think I actually yelled, "Aaaaah!" It felt like I'd been dropped into the seat of a moving roller coaster.
Ann Althouse said...I really like that one. It seems that you'd have to pick a place on a continuum from informality to formality and then stick to it. Which way would you lean?
From the Hagakure:
Among the maxims on Lord Naoshige's wall there was this one: "Matters of great concern should be treated lightly." Master lttei commented, "Matters of small concern should be treated seriously." Among one's affairs there should not be more than two or three matters of what one could call great concern. If these are deliberated upon during ordinary times, they can be understood. Thinking about things previously and then handling them lightly when the time comes is what this is all about.
Also:
If by setting one's heart right every morning and evening, one is able to live as though his body were already dead, he gains freedom in the Way. His whole life will be without blame, and he will succeed in his calling.
Years ago my then 11 year old son developed benign paroxysmal positional vertigo after the flu (viral neuronitis). He also had double vision. This was during the era of HMOs so his pediatric neurologist had to fight for permission for an MRI. Knowing the condition was benign and self-limited and not caused by a brain tumor ASAP rather than waiting the 3 months the HMO administrator wanted made the MRI worth the expense.
Many of us, perhaps most of us, don't know how blessed we are.
I have always had trouble believing. I am trying after so long to believe again. Tonight I am going to pray for the first time in a long long time. I will pray for you who have these troubles. I will give thanks for my undeserved blessings. And I will ask for forgiveness.
Tomorrow I'm going to try to be better.
I've had a number of biopsies. They're a kind of dress rehearsal. An opportunity to get your lines down pat and strike just the right pose. You don't want to overplay the death scene. A tasteful blend of stoicism and wistful regret is, in my estimation, the best way to play it, but those with greater range may opt for more histrionic choices.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know
What falls away is aways and is near
I wake to sleep and take my waking slow
I learn by going where I have to go.
Learning to ignore your vestibular system is key to learning how to fly on instruments. You don't realize until there are no outside visual cues to tell you which way is up how much you rely on your eyes to tell you if what your sense of balance is telling you is correct. When you are moving around three axes and three dimensions the fluid in the inner ear is sloshing around and giving you false cues as to motion. It's probably what got John Kennedy Jr.
NASA training can give vertigo to anybody.
They have a training machine that can spin you on all three axes at the same time: Head over heels cartwheels, side over side cartwheels, pirouette around.
I remember a reporter from CBS took a ride in that machine. After the ride was over, she finished her story while lying on her back on the ground. She said that the reason she was doing the story on her back was that if she stood up, she would throw up.
This happened to a friend -- she woke up with vertigo -- and this video by a doctor showed us exactly what to do. Worth watching in case it happens to you.
http://youtu.be/mQR6b7CAiqk
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