A couple of years ago I experienced something that turned my world upside down. I mean that literally (and I mean literally literally). I experienced vertigo. Specifically benign paroxysmal positional vertigo.
I personally have a huge issue with the inclusion of the word “benign”, just because something isn’t going to kill you doesn’t mean it’s not going to make you feel like you might die. Trying to explain BPPV makes me sound like a spiritual healer, because it happens when tiny crystals in your inner ear shift out of place. Yes, tiny crystals. The shifting of the tiny crystals tells your brain that your body is tumbling in space, but in a fun twist – it isn’t. The earth can suddenly and completely jolt off its axis while you are standing still, let alone turning your head.
The power these tiny crystals have to mess up your life, not to mention your physical perspective, is unbelievable. I’d compare it to when you’re so drunk the room is jumping and spinning (assume we’ve all been there), combined with a theme park ride where you suddenly get turned upside down and your stomach drops to your throat. For this reason, discovering other people who have it and understand it is so validating it brings a tear to the (involuntarily moving) eye.
I have been going through a vertigo episode recently, which sucks, but I also recently found out that another talented successful legend like me is afflicted: Australian cricketer Steve Smith. Smith recently missed an entire test match against England because of vertigo. When I read about this I was sad for him, but I also … felt good. Vertigo has become an ongoing issue in my life, and I get some sympathy, but I could take a whole lot more. How can a Normal understand what it feels like to turn my head and suddenly feel like the carpeted floor has smashed violently into my face, simultaneously making me scream and vomit? Or how it feels to walk into a cafe on a rainy day, slip on the wet floor and fall down in front of everyone – activating my vertigo and causing me to vomit, also in front of everyone. Yes that’s real. I’ve seen a lot of my own vomit throughout this experience, and Steve Smith understands. He’s been struggling with vertigo for a while. In 2020 he said: “The doctor, I think he performed six Epley manoeuvres on me this morning and got the crystals out of my ears and I was struggling for a bit.”
The Epley manoeuvre is a treatment where you deliberately give yourself vertigo by turning over and over in a specific pattern, in an attempt to send those crystals back to their little home. It helps a lot of vertigo victims like Steve, but unfortunately hasn’t worked for me. It’s like if you put the girl from the exorcist on the Gravitron. Vomit sprays out of me as I turn like a crying rotisserie chicken, while my poor girlfriend leaps around trying to catch it in a bucket (to win a prize). The last time I tried this I ended up in the hospital. The nurse checking me in had experienced vertigo, genuinely commiserated with me, and got me seen fast. This could also have been due to the fact that my vomiting sounds in the bathroom next door were reverberating powerfully around the waiting room. Sorry to keep talking about vomit but it’s an integral part of having vertigo.
I feel a connection to Smith, and to anyone else who has suffered in the specific way we have. It works for other things besides vertigo of course. I recently saw a Bill Hader interview where he talked about how shingles should be a bigger deal and renamed “fire blisters”. I had shingles a couple of years ago – another, different pain hell – and I know how much bizarre and freakish nerve pain Hader was in.
I’m sure this is the same for many people and many conditions. You have to find your way through it using all the tools you have. It doesn’t fix anything to know that other people go through it, even if they are famous, but it does make me feel a little bit less lonely – and that steadies me. Until I turn my head.
Rebecca Shaw is a Guardian Australia columnist
