I’m at a place called Vertigo
It’s everything I wish I didn’t know
But you give me something I can feel” – Vertigo by U2
This strange phenomenon has taken over my life: I cannot go to Las Vegas without needing to follow it up with a doctor visit chaser.
Well, actually I can; case in point, I did not go to the doctor today and don’t have plans to, although I certainly could this time around. Sadly, Mr. Doctor and Mr. Neurologist are out of town this week (it’s like they knew their most hypochondriacal patient would come a-knockin’), and I have little to no desire to visit a nurse practitioner or an Instacare doctor (neither of whom I trust are actual physicians. No offense to those of you who are nurse practitioners or Instacare doctors).
Yes, it is true. Husband and I went to Las Vegas again just because we could and also because “Phantom of the Opera” is closing on September 2nd, and COME HELL OR HIGH WATER I was not going to miss out on seeing it.
As it turns out, Las Vegas in the summertime is hell and frankly all you want, as you’re walking around in 106 degree weather, the sun beating down on your sad, pitiful, sweaty body, is high water.
And when all you want is high water (meaning you’re dehydrated) this happens:
I’ve actually had very light cases of vertigo before; sometimes when I take the elevator from my office (3rd floor) to the Dean’s office (9th floor) without taking much break, I find myself a little woozy upon return. Same with roller coasters.
So when I found myself standing in the Venetian, turning to Husband and saying, “Does it feel like the floor is moving right now?” (it did not, apparently), I wasn’t really all that alarmed. And when I woke up the following morning, the flavor of old In-n-Out filling my mouth and eyeliner smudged almost down to my cheeks, I wasn’t particularly worried about it either.
But when Sunday morning rolled around and I felt as though my brain was sitting on a rocking chair, I started to wonder if maybe something wasn’t quite right. And this morning, after riding the elevator up and then down (although spending about 45 minutes talking to a coworker in between trips) and turning into something of an artificial drunkard, I knew something was up.
We’re returning to Las Vegas in December, and there’s actually a very small part of me that is interested to see what sort of exciting ride my immune system takes me on. I’m kind of hoping for something good.