First things first:
I'm very sorry.
I always seem to be apologising for some thing or another, but this is one apology I need to make.
Over a year without a proper update to this blog is not good enough. Even if you're the only person that reads this, "dear reader", I owe you a bit more than that.
So here we go.
It's now June of 2016 and I have been on the protocol for most of that time. I've had a bit of an enforced break lately which is unfortunate but that should be coming to an end shortly.
The net result however is entirely positive. I don't actually think about it often but writing this is a good prompt for me to look back at how my Meniere's experience has been. The first word that springs to mind is:
Improvement.
Improvement! Sweet! That was the goal, after all. I have much less low-level dizziness than before I started out on this treatment. I experience virtually no full-blown, bed-spinning, vomit-inducing, life-interrupting attacks of vertigo. I can't remember the last time I knelt and s/prayed before the porcelain altar.
I still have bad days. Days when I feel things are shifting around on me. It can feel a bit like my brain is a Monopoly piece. Let's say it's the thimble. Simple and therefore quite appropriate. The Monopoly board is the world around me and someone keeps moving the board around like it's set on one of those plastic Scrabble Lazy Susan things.
Confused yet? Good. Because that unsteadiness absorbs a lot of your thimble's processing power, leaving you with very little to assign to other tasks.
Overall these days are fewer and further apart than they have been for a long time. So I consider this to be a sign of ongoing improvement, which I hope will continue when I resume the full treatment shortly. Tinnitus is the same as it was and hearing loss seems about the same. I do have periods where I can hear more clearly and the whistling kettle that lives within my ear can't muster up much more than a little screech. More akin to a horrified mouse screaming softly in terror.
There was a pretty rough patch however. A few months into my full time job in Canberra I experienced an upswing in vertigo that was fairly punishing to my ability to work and function. In the end we made the call and I returned to being a stay at home dad. A decision like that meant no small sacrifice for all our family so I am intensely grateful to my beautiful wife for her patience, love, understanding, respect and sacrifice. And to all our family for their endless help and support. Amazing.
Let's press fast forward for a bit. We made a pretty major decision to move (yep... AGAIN) to Queensland at the end of last year. It is undescribably hard at times to be away from loved ones in Canberra but the move had to be made for a variety of reasons. We're happy we're here.
So here we are in a shiny new suburb, me working from home in my own little office and my wife about to give birth to our third child. A girl who may finally have a name just days before she greets the world.*
*we reserve the right to change our mind on the name several more times before baby arrives. Anyone who knows us knows why. ;)
Work is going well so far. Working from home will eventually become far, far easier on my balance and health than working in an office was. I do miss the camaraderie of an office, but the chance to work any time of the day or night that suits me, to have ZERO commute and to avoid the bright lights and bleak walls of the office is priceless for someone with a "chronic illness". The job is good too, as is the boss. So all things jolly in that regard.
As a side effect of other medications, and my ingrained laziness, I've become a bit of a blob. I regret this. However with my improving health I feel as though I've been sitting in a car, surrounded by fog and with the engine idling. Where before I couldn't see past my nose (which is pretty far I guess, I do have quite a hooter) I can now see the path stretching out ahead. Not just a poorly-conjured metaphorical path to wellness, but the actual path that leads back into a real, purposeful participation in the world.
When you're naturally introverted and you get sick, you tend to "hunker down" as my favourite fantasy writer Raymond E Feist loves to say. I don't want to be a disappointment to people and so, without even realizing I'm doing it, I withdraw into my shell. I focus on getting well and commit myself to my wife and kids.
But even introverts realise that, ultimately, there comes a time to get back in the game. Being sick takes a big toll on you and those you love. Financially, emotionally and in ways you can't explain until long after you feel even a little "better". You don't want to admit it but it can make you gun shy, afraid to take the risk of living normally. Walking on the eggshells of an unpredictable and savagely debilitating illness becomes your new normal.
The good news is that I think my ears, my immune system, my Meniere's, however you want to see it, have been brought under enough control that I can get back in the game more and more. And I intend to.
First things first though. I have important work to do as a next-to-useless cheerleader while my wife brings our new child into the world.
The dizziness is getting better, I'm slowly getting better and we are all grateful for that. Long may it continue.
Thanks for reading.
EDIT: Nearly forgot. If you are interested in Stephen Spring Protocol, contacting Stephen himself would be your best bet. Stephen has provided some info here:
http://www.stephenspringprotocol.com
