The first three days were a special kind of hell. The antibiotics hadn’t kicked in, the prednisone made him feel jittery and strange, and the dizziness seemed to mock him, peaking just as he tried to walk to the bathroom. He felt like a man walking across the deck of a ship in a storm, constantly reaching out for a handrail that wasn’t there.
One Tuesday morning, while reviewing blueprints for a retaining wall, the room performed a slow, lazy roll to the left. It wasn't the violent spinning of vertigo, but a nauseating, drunken sway. Arthur grabbed the edge of his desk. The sensation lasted only a few seconds, but it left a greasy smear of unease behind. He blinked, shook his head, and the blueprints snapped back into focus. Probably just low blood sugar , he thought. ethmoid sinusitis and dizziness
But the tilt returned. And it brought friends. The first three days were a special kind of hell
The world didn’t spin for Arthur Crenshaw; it listed, like a ship taking on water. That was the first sign, though he didn’t recognize it at the time. Three weeks ago, he would have described himself as a man anchored to the ground—a structural engineer who designed foundations. Dizziness was an abstract concept, something other people experienced after a third glass of wine or a carnival ride. One Tuesday morning, while reviewing blueprints for a
