I’ve kicked my husband out of our marital bed.
He hasn’t done anything wrong -at least nothing worthy of being demoted to a mattress located on our bedroom floor- but my motion sickness and vertigo has gotten so bad these past few months that I can no longer tolerate even the tiniest of movements that come with sharing a bed with someone.
At the end of a busy day, when I lay my head upon my pillow, I already feel as if I’m on a tiny boat at sea during a huge storm and the last thing I need is someone inhaling and exhaling right next to me like a jackass and making it worse.
The good news is that this latest turn of events finally forced me to confront what has increasingly become a debilitating condition that has taken away so much of what I love doing (like walking upright, sitting without swaying, driving a car faster than 10 m.p.h and peeing on the toilet without falling off) and seek medical attention.
So a few weeks ago I subjected myself to four straight hours of hellish vestibular testing at the hands of some of the most gorgeous audiologists I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t the spinning chair that almost made me throw up;it was the fact that I was surrounded by dozens of young females with Ph.D’s who pranced around in form fitting while lab coats (didn’t even know they made those) and brand name stilettos. I don’t know what kind of joint they’re running over there but every single one of those gals could be mistaken for a Playboy centerfold. Imagine my delight then, as I spent the entire day wearing a stupid helmet with night vision goggles that left a semi-permanent imprint on my face while these hot bitches used their torture chamber devices trying to make me sick.
After enduring a battery of vision, hearing, and “I’m going to spin the shit out of you, hang you upside down, make you stare at disco lights in the dark and pour liquid down your ear labyrinths and you tell me if it makes you feel dizzy” tests, I finally got my results back last Monday. I was worried that the head doctor, who happens to be male and probably is in charge of the hiring process, was going to come back and tell me it was all in my head but according to him I’m totally screwed up! He also mentioned I have vertigo. Which I thought I already told him on my intake forms, but that ‘s probably just a coincidence.
According to my tests, I have what’s called Migraine AssociatedVertigo or Migraine-associated vestibulopothy. This condition can cause a major dysfunction of the vestibular system and since I’m pretty much dysfunctional in most other aspects of my life, it was just a matter of time before my vestibular system joined the party.
But the good news is that it’s somewhat treatable. I mean, the doctor couldn’t guarantee that I’d be able to sit in a movie theater again or enjoy a three-hour tour aboard the Minnow but he did mention that with two months of intense vestibular rehabilitation at the clinic, along with a strict adherence to diet and exercise and a commitment to my daily vestibular homework, I may be able to participate in some basic activities such as sitting still and inviting my husband back into our marital bed.
Yesterday was my first rehabilitation appointment and I was so excited to get started, until the audiologist in charge of my vestibular training – Miss October – walked in the door and introduced herself. She spent the next twenty minutes going over our program and I spent the next 20 minutes focusing on the 36DD reasons I already can’t stand her. Anyways, she seems really nice from the neck up to about the nostril area, and I guess I can’t be picky but it’s super hard to take her seriously when all I wanna do is ask her her stripper name and where she keeps the pole.
So we’ll see what happens next. I’m totally dedicated to getting better and I started my in-home vestibular exercises last night and if what the good Dr. says is true, then Mikey and I should be back to sharing a bed like a normal couple again in no time. Which is SUCH A RELIEF because I am definitely NOT enjoying all that extra leg room and having to endure wrapping myself in the velvety delight that is our comforter instead of fighting tooth and nail for a tiny corner of it as usual. Not at all.
But then again, you never know. I mean, it could take way longer than two months and it may require that we get a new bed, or a new bedroom, or two separate beds in two separate rooms and naturally that would mean two separate his and her bathrooms.
Like I said, that would be the worst case scenario, but we at least owe it to ourselves to keep our options open.