The neurologist’s assistant was a fierce Latina 20-something with severely plucked eyebrows, airbrushed nails and teeny little slingback shoes. She had a lot of attitude and she ran a tight ship. I like that. She had me fill out an 11-page form asking about symptoms I wouldn't have thougth to mention. Dr. V (as Fierce Latina called him) reviewed my medical history before we went into the examination room where he did the Three Stooges test (the one where he hits my knees with a hammer and I punch him in the nose… well, you know what I mean); observed my eye movements as he waved smiley-face hand puppets in front of me; and rang what sounded like Tibetan singing bowls next to each ear. Then he did this uncomfortable electro-shocky-kinda test on my hands to make sure I didn’t pinch a nerve somewhere along the line. He said there was probably nothing serious wrong, maybe something in my inner ear and, if it turned out to be that, it would go away on its own without treatment, but then it would come back whenever it wanted to, too. He ordered an MRI and a “nerve test,” both of which I looked up on webmd-dot-com (a rather reliable and understandable place to go to learn enough so that you can go back and ask your doctor better questions) and it looks like the “nerve test” is a full-body version of the electro-shock thingy he did on my hands (I’m already dreading it. I promise I won’t cancel or postpone, but you better believe I’ll be coming home by way of Saks!) By the way, as I was looking this stuff up, I came across the term “labyrinthitis,” which pretty much described what Dr. V. said was the most likely cause of my dizzy spells—it’s a pretty cool word, don’t you think? If I’ve got to have a medical condition, I want it to have a cool name.

The weird thing is that now I’m walking around wondering if every sensation is really a symptom—am I sleepy or narcoleptic? Did I trip over a crack in the sidewalk or was that a tiny seizure? Sudden, unexplained clumsiness or did I simply drop my pencil? Webmd-dot-com says that the best home treatment for labyrinthitis is to go about my normal daily activities, my brain will “compensate,” but I really want to lay low and take lots of naps this weekend, but goodness knows I don’t want to delay my recuperation. “AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!” as Charlie Brown would say.