Thanks to my sick sense of humor, you’ve now all seen what my toe looks like since we went to the lake this weekend, and I shall spare any of you still recovering from the first go round having to see it again (jeez, Will, who knew you were so squeamish?).

The other thing that’s popped up since the weekend is that I’ve been having dizzy spells. At first, I thought nothing of it, since the dock was floating, and I am the sort of person who doesn’t actually get motion sickness while we’re still moving — I’m the sort of person who feels it after the motion has stopped. I was one of only a handful of people on the Zanzibar-Dar es Salaam ferry who didn’t end up projectile vomiting repeatedly during the trip, but I did lay awake all night long in my hotel room — on land — feeling the boat go bouncy-bouncy-bouncy (for the record, I didn’t barf then, either. I have a remarkable … and sometimes unfortunate … tolerance for stomach discomfort).

So, this morning when I found myself gripping my desk in a desperate effort to make the room stop spinning, I phoned the doctor and was told that an appointment was available if I could come in right away. Since all I was doing was propping myself against various surfaces I readily agreed and drove off to the doctor’s office (for some reason, I’m OK while I’m driving – maybe because I have something to focus on?).

There’s an interesting subset of people in the doctor’s office just before lunch on a Thursday. Fortunately, I was ushered in from the waiting room quickly (and alarmingly – I started to wonder if this was an indication that by the appointment station was a note: “People calling with these symptoms must be seen immediately before death sets in.”) The friendly doctor–not my usual gal, whom I never see anymore–asked me a bunch of questions: did I swallow lake water? No. Did I suffer head trauma? No. Any other injuries? I showed him my toe, and he agreed that I was very lucky to not have broken it.

Out comes the little light and he looks in my ears (oh, god, did I remember to swab out my ears after I showered last night?) and in my eyes and then proceeds to tell me that I’ve contracted a virus. I don’t remember what it’s called, but apparently it’s a virus whose sole raîson d’etre is living in your inner ear and making you think the room is spinning. He offered me meds to calm any nausea, which I’m not feeling, but other than that I just get to ride it out for a couple of weeks until the virus burns itself out.

Jeez, they have viruses for everything now.

The good news is that I’m cleared to go to Mexico. We’re off in the morning for a three-day weekend in Monterrey, which is about 350 miles down the road. It wasn’t until yesterday that we started wondering why we’re not doing this as a four-day trip, since we’ll be in town for all of a day and a half, but it’s going to be a change from the norm, and I’m looking forward to my first “real” trip to Mexico anyway.

Have a good weekend, y’all!

Tags: humor, illness, injuries, mexico, weekend, Zanzibar