I half-envy you having an actual diagnosis. As you may or may not know (Bob), in 2010 I went through a period of attacks of DFO (Done Fell Over) that increased in severity and frequency until I started winding up in the ER almost weekly with incapacitating nausea and dizziness. Fast forward through loads of imaging and testing and half a day spent at the world's worst Disneyland (the ENT balance testing lab), and the results were more or less a combination of finger-pointing and ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .
The Thing proved somewhat amenable to diuretics, but my kidneys promptly went on strike and started throwing rocks at my ureters. So my neurologist tried a low dose of Effexor (venlafaxine), which appeared to stop the thing more or less in its tracks. (Fun fact: Effexor withdrawal produces a variety of symptoms within 18-24 hours after a missed dose, including... nausea and dizziness...)
Anyway, I'm interested that they found a specific cause for you, even though it sure as hell sucks (loud noise? in what universe is that fucking fair to an old punk??)
It's really hard for my partner to understand how something like "talking to me in low tones while standing in the wrong place in the room for my hearing aid to pick up" or "sitting at the wrong angle to a wall in a restaurant with super-bouncy acoustics" can make me almost uncontrollably grumpy and fragile because of the effect it has on my cognitive load and subjective balance, covered with that faint frisson of nausea. Stupid fucking ear design, Eddie Izzard really called it on that one.
no subject
The Thing proved somewhat amenable to diuretics, but my kidneys promptly went on strike and started throwing rocks at my ureters. So my neurologist tried a low dose of Effexor (venlafaxine), which appeared to stop the thing more or less in its tracks. (Fun fact: Effexor withdrawal produces a variety of symptoms within 18-24 hours after a missed dose, including... nausea and dizziness...)
Anyway, I'm interested that they found a specific cause for you, even though it sure as hell sucks (loud noise? in what universe is that fucking fair to an old punk??)
It's really hard for my partner to understand how something like "talking to me in low tones while standing in the wrong place in the room for my hearing aid to pick up" or "sitting at the wrong angle to a wall in a restaurant with super-bouncy acoustics" can make me almost uncontrollably grumpy and fragile because of the effect it has on my cognitive load and subjective balance, covered with that faint frisson of nausea. Stupid fucking ear design, Eddie Izzard really called it on that one.