It's been an odd day, to say the least.

Let's begin at the beginning - Last night, I was sitting in the family room, playing Final Fantasy VI, when the entire room appeared to slowly tilt to about a thirty degree incline. It sat there for a bit, and then slowly tilted back to level. Observing that Daniel was unperturbed, and that our furniture hadn't all slid to the righthand side of the room, I concluded that the tilt had happened in my head.

"Gee, that's sort of interesting," I thought. "I hope that doesn't happen again."

Later, when I went to bed, I lay down and the ceiling decided to spin around my head. "Hmmm," I thought. "Well, maybe I can sleep it off."

I didn't sleep it off. Basically, I'm having intermittent episodes of the room spinning around my head. These seem to be triggered either by my sitting up from a supine position, or sometimes by my lying down, but there are a few episodes that seem to come out of nowhere. It's a strange sensation - not at all like the light-headedness one sometimes experiences when one stands up suddenly and the blood rushes out of one's head. There's no light-headedness with this, no nausea, no sense that I'm going to faint - just a rather determined tilting of the room off its axis for a few seconds.

So, I googled "Vertigo", and after weeding out references to the Hitchcock film, the DC comics line, and the software company, among others, I determined a) that most cases of vertigo are medically non-serious, and b) that some cases of vertigo are indications of quite serious medical problems (brain tumor, stroke, etc.), and so it's important to get checked out immediately.

So, I had some breakfast, called work to let them know I was going to be in late today (if at all), gave Daniel a heads up, packed a bag with a couple of paperbacks and a printout of a manual I'm working on for copyediting, and hopped on a bus down to Regional Medical Center, where I went to the Urgent Care clinic.

I'd copyedited about 3 chapters of the manual when they called me back, took my blood pressure, and asked me a bunch of questions about my symptoms. Then they looked in my ears, listened to my lungs, and asked me the same questions all over again.

Then they decided that they didn't have the resources to do any further diagnosis in Urgent Care. So they escalated me to a genuine emergency, and rolled me over to the ER in a wheelchair. (They wouldn't let me walk, even though I assured them that I really didn't think I was going to fall over.)

When I'd copyedited about 10 chapters of the manual, they called me back, took my blood pressure, and asked me all the same questions that they'd asked me in Urgent Care. Then they sent me back to the waiting room.

I finished copyediting the manual. Daniel called to let me know that Sears had delivered our new refrigerator. Yay for modern food storage technology! I called my boss and told her that I almost certainly wasn't coming to work today.

Eventually, they took me back and stuck me in a little room. And took my blood pressure. And asked me questions. I read a bunch of Sharyn November's Firebirds anthology. A doctor came in and had me turn and jiggle my head in various ways, trying to reproduce an attack of vertigo. None of it worked. They drew some blood, and tested my blood sugar, and took my blood pressure. (They took my blood pressure so many times, my left upper arm is sore.)

Getting my blood drawn was probably the high point of the afternoon, I'm sad to say. The job was done by a preternaturally cheery little German woman. She tied the rubber thing around my arm, poked at my arm, looked up, and said, "What, you leave veins at home today?" (I have really hard to find veins in my arms - I am a phlebotomists terror.) So, she put the needle in the back of my hand, and exclaimed, "Oh! The vein made a little pop when I put the needle in!"

"Is that good?" I asked. Veins going pop doesn't sound good to me.

"Yes, yes. Very good. We like the veins that make the little announcement - pop! - when we get it right."

Ooookay. Well, she got the blood.

Then they sent me for a CT scan, which was kind of cool, because I got to lie on a motorized table that slid in and out of a big metal donut that made whirring noises. I told the CT technician all about the fake CT machine at the San Jose Tech Museum, which seemed to delight her.

Then they sent me back to my little room, where I read some more until the doctor came back and announced, "Your CAT scan is negative!"

I must have looked confused - I was thinking, "Negative? Does that mean my brain didn't show up?" because she quickly clarified, "Negative for any obvious problems."

Shortly thereafter, they gave me a diagnosis of "Benign Vertigo", a prescription for an anti-vertigo medication, and a stern admonition to be sure and follow up promptly with my primary care physician. (First, I have to get a primary care physician, but that's another matter.) Odds are that I will be all better in just a few days, which is good, because I'm not supposed to drive while taking the anti-vertigo medication, or while experiencing vertigo. (Thank goodness that I can get to work and to/from the medical center using public transit, so I won't be totally dependent on Daniel for transportation. Not that Daniel can't be depended on, but he's got plenty of other things to do.)

Then Daniel came and rescued me, and we picked up a few basics to stock our new fridge. (Which I have named Friggo (rhymes with Viggo), because it is tall, dark, and handsome. I've never felt the urge to name a fridge before, but this is the first fridge I've ever actually purchased for my very own.)

So, that was my day. How was your day?