Jewish World Review June 19, 2014 / 21 Sivan, 5774
Sooner or later, we all need a little help
By Sharon Randall
http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | (MCT) When your world spins out of control, what exactly do you do?
Me? I usually hold on tight and wait and pray for it to stop.
There are gifts that come with waiting and praying. Iíve seen plenty. So have you.
But if youíve lived as long as I have, you probably know that holding on is a waste of time. Itís letting go, not clinging, that brings order to chaos, sees hope in despair and calms any storm.
Still, there are times when it seems the best you can do is sink your claws in like a cat about to get flea dipped.
This was one of those times.
I often fly for work or to visit family. Usually, it doesnít bother me. But once in a while, flying makes me feel as if my head is stuck in the pressure cooker that my mother would use to turn green beans into gray mush.
Flying is not the problem. Itís the going up and coming down, the change in altitude and cabin pressure that treats eardrums like the balloons that get blown up and twisted into wiener dogs.
Itís especially hard on babiesí ears. Thatís why you often hear them crying on flights, along with, well, people like me.
I didnít quite cry this time, but nearly. Itís a quick flight, about an hour, from Las Vegas, where I live, to Monterey, California, where I planned to spend a week visiting my children and grandchildren.
I did fine on takeoff, but ran into trouble when we started the descent. My ears began to pop, as they often do on flights, only the popping kept getting worse.
Pretty soon it felt as if my head was under water. By the time we landed, I could barely hear.
Luckily, the feeling subsided and I had no problem hearing little people call me ďNana.Ē
Imagine my surprise the next morning when I rolled out of bed to start ďnana dutyĒ and found I couldnít stand up.
Actually, I did manage to stand for a bit until the room began to reel like the boat in ďThe Perfect StormĒ and flung me back down on the bed.
I lay still as a corpse, clutching a pillow, waiting for the world to right itself and make the reeling stop. But the tiniest movement of my head sent it reeling again.
The good news, at least, was I knew what was wrong. The bad news was it wasnít good.
Vertigo is a loss of balance often caused by an inner ear infection, or by having your eardrums twisted like balloons into wiener dogs. It spins your world like a merry-go-round free falling through space. (It can also make you throw up, but thankfully, I was spared that.)
The worst of it is the sense of helplessness. Some of us (and we know who we are) would sooner go to prison and spend the rest of our lives in an orange jumpsuit than have to ask, God forbid, for a little help.
This is true not just in vertigo, but at any point when balance is lost and life spins out of control.
Lying on my daughterís guest bed, praying for the spinning to stop, I recalled other times I had felt much the same: As a child worrying about my mother. As a mother worrying about my child. As a wife afraid of losing my husband. As a widow afraid of moving on with my life.
In each of those instances and in countless others, I learned time and again a little secret: Balance and control are optical (or auditory or emotional or intellectual) illusions. None of us stands for long on our own. Sooner or later, we all need a little help. We just have to ask.
So I asked. And my daughter, bless her, took me to a clinic for medicine to make me feel better.
My husband offered to drive a thousand miles to bring me home, so I wouldnít need to fly again until my ears were better.
And my even grandbabes gave me a break so I could lie on the sofa watching them run in circles like penguins on speed.
Funny, isnít it? Somedays you start out feeling helpless, and end up feeling loved.
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