Nausea is thoroughly disabling, sometimes stealthy, other times striking with meteoric impact. It sours a cheerful mood, disarms initiative, clouds reason and skews perception. Positive thoughts languish while negativisms multiply.
This kind of nausea persists without the satisfaction of a good, stomach-clearing vomit, signaling the beginning of relief. I spend hours on edge, expecting any moment to fling the contents of my stomach into a basin. Then the nausea slinks off, snatching away the satisfaction of bringing it to fruition, then stomping it out.
During this illness, I have sought explanations for nausea in hopes of concocting a remedy. I looked first at my food intake: patterns or ingredients provoking a gastric rebellion against a culinary insult, such as too many jalapenos. I log the fluctuations of nausea in a vain attempt to identify recurring connections with various foods. A year of scribbling has revealed no suspicious relationships.
Nausea fuels mood swings. I have learned to tolerate a low level of constant nausea with minimal flattening of mood. As the nausea level rises, my mood plummets. This illness has tilted me from an awareness of the need for preparedness, formerly an admirable character trait, into a world-class worrier, a burdensome status. For each situation, I seek all possible causes for concern. Since preparedness didn’t help avert cancer, my reasoning goes, perhaps worry can compensate, ex post facto, for this failing and help restore a sense of productive self-management.
Ah, the meanderings of an under-occupied mind! This is the point at which my more tolerant friends would say: “Get a life!” Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 10, 2009
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