If you have vertigo, and insist on living your life as usual, expect to embarrass yourself — and expect people to laugh at you. Today in the teacher’s lounge I was walking south while looking north and talking over my shoulder. I turned forward just in time to miss the hall doorway and walk into the wall. I saw the wall. I knew I was going to walk into it. And there wasn’t a dang thing I could do to stop myself.
I’d also like to mention, when suffering from vertigo, if you feel yourself falling, do not grab a swivel stool for support. And, if you absolutely must grab the swivel stool, don’t do it in front of 23 ten year-old students who will instantly point out — loudly and in unison — what an idiotic choice that was.
Also, don’t trust curbs. They change height without warning. One second they are four inches high, the next they are six inches high. I don’t know why the parent who watched me gracefully stumble over the curb, lurch across the sidewalk and bounce face-first into the chain-link fence didn’t report me for drinking on the job. I can only surmise that she plans to attempt blackmail at some later date.
My students are acting like adults. I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. Jasmine says, “Miss, that’s hot. You are just going to hurt yourself. Sit down. I’ll bring it to you.” Pansy Petite says, “You shouldn’t be walking with those scissors. You are going to hurt someone.” Rick says, “Here, let me open your milk carton. You’re just going to spill it.”
The good news is, this morning I finally get to see the doctor. I have a 10:30 a.m. appointment. Since I have over 160 sick days banked, I took the entire day off. With any luck, I won’t spend all of it sitting in the waiting room. I’ll let you know how it goes.