Monday May 11 Links and Banter
It is Monday. Huzzah.
Three years ago yesterday, my life changed.
The TLDR: I passed out in the shower and repeatedly bashed my head on the ground (and was probably in the midst of a small mental break even before that occurred). My balance was gone. Vertigo and dizziness and panic and nausea were constant. A few ER visits and an overnight hospitalization didn’t address the issue. The summer and fall were filled with testing and physical therapy, blindly flailing around hoping to find something that could explain what was happening to me. You haven’t lived until you’ve spent the first Saturday of the college football season sitting quietly with your thoughts while a genial Russian dude named Igor attaches electrodes to your skull. (Free healthcare is great once you clear that maximum out-of-pocket cost.)
The diagnosis, as much as the medical system can really provide? POTS: Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. Translated: I get really dizzy and sometimes I pass out when I stand up. Sometimes it feels like my gravity is shifting, or my balance has turned sideways. Sometimes it’s a thick, impassable brain fog clouding my thoughts and judgment. But in addition to the physical symptoms, I became afraid. After months of not leaving my house, not walking my dog, not wandering to the grocery store, not meeting my friends at the bar, I was deeply, painfully fearful of the world outside.
Fear, per Dune, is the mindkiller. And agoraphobia is astoundingly debilitating. I felt like an invalid, a captive in my house, a prisoner in my own stupid fucking head.
And three years on? Yeah, it’s better. I’m immensely lucky to have a support system around me that is immensely understanding. I’m thankful for pharmaceuticals that have helped me expand my world, albeit slowly and haltingly. Most importantly, I’m beyond appreciative of the constant presence and support of my wife, the wonderful OhioOtter, who continues to be my emotional support in the scary world out there. With her love and understanding and frequent reminders to drink some goddamn water before you lose consciousness, I’ve been out to weddings and bachelor parties. I’ve been to stadiums and arenas and bars and restaurants. I’ve climbed the tallest (metaphorical) mountain in Ohio and survived to tell the tale. I owe every bit of my limited normalcy to her.
I owe a ton to you delightful weirdos as well. Three years ago, I emailed the Big Boss MNW to ask if I could write for him, hoping (but honestly not sure) that my brain still could function well enough to cobble a sentence or two. I didn’t know whether I could string together a story, but I desperately needed to find out. I owe an immense debt of gratitude to MNW for responding to that email and for giving me an outlet when I desperately needed one, and to you all for reading my articles and putting up with my bullshit.
Thank you to all of you folks that have read my words, rolled your eyes at my stupid jokes, donated to the Sherman Grants project, and stuck with me when this upstart site went live last July. It’s been an honor, truly.
Just a few months until football season. Preferably without another visit to Igor and his EEG machine.
