Vertigo

I turn in my sleep to the right. Suddenly, the world starts spinning violently. My eyes snap open - the room around me whirls in mad circles from left to right. My stomach reacts and I can already feel the acid raising in my throat. I know this feeling. Desperately, I lurch to the left and lay flat on my back. The spinning slows down and finally the room regains its immobility. My breathing is shallow and fast, my stomach still sits in my throat.

How long has it been since the last episode of this? Six years? Seven, maybe? That time I ended up visiting a doctor. The old doctor who checked me up smiled when I described the symptoms. As a med student he wrote the paper on my disease. He told me the name of it, which I forgot as soon as I got better. It is, he explained, a virus which affects the center of balance in my inner ear. It can't be cured, but it isn't dangerous. At least, not dangerous as a disease, though it could put me in harms way if I, say, lose balance while crossing the street. He prescribed a series of exercises which consisted of sitting on the edge of the bed and dropping sideways into laying position first to one side, then to the other. Two weeks later, the vertigo disappeared.

And now it came back to haunt me at 4 AM. I don't dare to turn on my side and my back is soon sore from laying still. It seems sleep is over for the night. Just as before, the spinning starts only when my head is tilted to the right. For the next few weeks I'll have an unpleasant reminder to keep it straight. I get out of the bed, carefully avoiding leaning to the right, and slowly dress for the run.