Drunk After Only Two Glasses?
Vertigo and Vasovagal created the perfect storm.
Several decades ago, a cousin from Argentina nicknamed me Pata Caliente (hot foot) because I have always had a high degree of energy and sought constant adventure. After retirement in May 2023, my temperament had free reign to fulfill my wanderlust with continuous travel. Thirty percent of my time has been spent in my home in 2024.
Aside from having a lot of energy, I am fairly healthy and focus on good nutrition, especially after being diagnosed with Celiac in 2013. Suddenly, after a flight back from Italy, I was grounded. Vertigo kicked my ass.
Diagnosis of Vasovagal
I had my worst medical test ever in 2019. The test simulated a heart attack to see if I lost consciousness, which I did when the pain sensation became too strong for my body to tolerate. Several minutes later, after the physician pumped nearly two saline bags into me, I woke up. The doctor said, “The test was positive, you have Vasovagal.” Positive was a matter of opinion.
Italy
Together with my parents, we were returning to Newark after a two-week holiday in Italy.
Mama dreamed of going to Italy after I returned from my exchange trip with IFYE (International 4-H Youth Exchange) in 1981. Neither she nor my dad are adventurous travelers; however, they have completed many road trips in the US. Mama’s only non-US trips involved visiting us for the births of two of my children who were born abroad while we were expatriates.
What made the trip to Italy both extra special as well as significantly more complicated was my mom’s health condition. Mama has heart and kidney failure, which likely will require dialysis in the coming months. She is also completely disabled requiring her to be mostly wheelchair bound.
A few months ago, she bought a new electric wheelchair that is lighter weight and collapses like a stroller. We agreed it was time to visit Italy before she began dialysis.
It was an amazing gift to experience Italy with my parents as well as anxiety-ridden. I was the caregiver, tour guide, chef, logistics officer, and entertainment director as we toured Rome, Florence, and Milan. For those who have been there, you can imagine the logistics challenges with the cobblestone roads and sidewalks.
We completed the two weeks without any major problems; however, there were a couple of incidents. Mama accidentally popped a wheely and nearly fell backward when she went up a sidewalk ramp. Luckily, I was able to get behind her in time to tilt her upright. Or when the front right wheel came off, requiring a repair at the Uffizi Gallery.
The reality was as great, if not greater, than her dreams. It was truly a trip of a lifetime.
The flight home
Mama’s back and mobility issues required business-class seating. Accustomed to long-haul flights in Economy or Economy Premium, I was like a kid in a candy store sitting up front.
When I want to imbibe, drinking a glass or two of wine is no issue, even when flying cross-continental. So, I was surprised when I woke from a comfortable four-hour nap on the return flight feeling hungover. Standing, waiting for the toilet to be available, I felt shaky and nauseous.
Was I experiencing delayed stress? Now that the excitement was over, were my defenses abandoning me and making me more vulnerable? Not only do I possess high energy, but I am resilient, even when I was sick for nearly ten months waiting for a diagnosis when they discovered it was Celiac. I felt like my body and ability to fight back were abandoning me.
After returning to my seat, I told Mama I wasn’t feeling well. I started describing my symptoms but didn’t get far. I passed out — the first of many resulting from a full-blown Vasovagal attack and only the second episode in my life.
Unable to wake me, Mama, alarmed for my well-being, called for help. While I was unconscious, the head flight attendant paged for medical support. When my eyes fluttered open, my seat was surrounded by half the crew and two doctors. The ENT deferred to the Anesthesiologist to manage my care.
Unfamiliar with international travel, my octogenarian parents felt confident traveling because I managed everything for them. Sitting on the plane, surrounded by everyone, the panic was setting in as I tried to figure out how to complete the final piece of our journey — getting through Newark Airport and out to my husband.
On our descent, the pilot alerted the gate bridge team and paramedics quickly boarded once the doors opened. Passengers were asked to stay seated due to a medical emergency.
Covered in vomit and unable to manage walking, I authorized the paramedics to get me off the plane so that people could get to their connecting flights. Not only was I worried about my parents, but I also felt bad about holding up fellow passengers.
Once on the front jet bridge outside the door between first and business classes, they checked my vitals and found nothing to be concerned about. I declined a trip to the ER. I wanted to get home.
Back in America
An immigration officer escorted my parents and me through the airport. What a sight we must have been — two wheelchairs and a walker — Mama driving her electric wheelchair while Dad pushed her walker loaded with my backpack and their cabin luggage, and me in the wheelchair.
I kept my head down and arms covering my upper body the best I could. I felt awful and embarrassed. Embarrassed of what, I am not sure — how I must have looked and smelled, letting my parents down, putting more work on my dad, the vulnerability of it all, who knows. May a bit of everything.
During my stroll of shame and awfulness, I passed out for the eighth time within two hours. I woke to the immigration officer calling my name. We were still in the immigration section of the airport in the concourse leading to the elevators and escalators to go to the baggage.
Bags were claimed, and we were finally loaded in the car.
I wish I could send a thank you to everyone who helped me. I cannot imagine the poor souls having to clean up my section of the plane.
Recovering from the attack
The convergence of Vertigo and Vasovagal continued into the late evening. Dry heaves sent me into my tenth and final fainting spell eleven hours after the initial attack.
I woke the next day with the same symptoms — nausea, headache, and dizziness. Same thing the next day, and the next, and the next… Symptoms worsened during motion — sitting, lying down, walking, turning my head.
It felt like my body was rejecting me. Surrounded by my family, I couldn’t enjoy my daughters who came in from Denver and Boston.
When I am sick, my husband is quite concerned for my well-being, while also a bit amused when I complain: “I don’t have time for this.” I have little patience with myself when I cannot continue my high-energy lifestyle. Sickness of any kind doesn’t care if you have time for it or not; it is what it is. He grounded me and helped me take time to rest.
Six days after the attack, a doctor diagnosed me with Vertigo, evidenced by my rapid non-aligned eye movements. The next morning, I met with my physical therapist, Mitch.
Mitch took me through a series of motions designed to realign the crystals in the inner ear canal. The first involved focused eye contact while he watched for eye movement to show when I was passing through stages of Vertigo. During the third step where I had to turn on my side rapidly, I grabbed his leg forcefully when the void threatened to swallow me. Mitch talked me through each breath as we waited for baseline to return.
After we finished with the left side I sat with ice on my neck while sucking on a mint. Both helped me feel less nauseous. Then we repeated the procedure for the right side.
It was like magic. Symptoms dissipated while I was on the table.
Following a treatment that lasted less than twenty minutes, I turned back to say thanks. With a smile, I waved bye as Mitch said, “Do your normal things today.”
And, so I did — hair cut, two-mile walk with my dog, straightening the house, unpacking from the trip, planning our upcoming visit in late December to our new home in Wisconsin, working on projects to sell our home in New Jersey, writing, reading, cooking, and, finally, resting.
I regained agency of my life. Vertigo conquered. Pata Caliente is ready to take flight!
Thank you jeetwincasinos.community and readers, and a special thanks to Mary Cappelli for her editing support. As always, I am deeply grateful to Middle-Pause and my tribe of sisters!
