Lesson Eight-Vertigo, Flu and Life

It can’t all be fun—learning to swim, learning anything.  In Lesson 8, I hit a big bump followed by a few weeks of struggle and doubt. 

Part of it was timing. October was full of wonderful life events--but still time-consuming, exhausting. I hosted my first Open Studios, two weekends jam-packed with art lovers visiting my studio---a success far beyond what I had hoped for.  Then a quick flight to London for my only child’s wedding- moving, exciting and fun but emotionally exhausting in addition to the 8 hour flight each way, trapped with hundreds of coughing people and the time adjustment.

I went to Lesson 8 (after Open Studios and before my trip to London) with the excitement and joy I’ve gotten to used to feeling before each lesson, though I had practiced only once between lessons. 

Beth was moving my hips and legs for the kicks, and I was making sure I could see my arm and hand in the imaginary box in front of my head while the other came forward in the air preparing to enter the water. She asked me “If I could feel the weight of my stroking arm coming up and over? Was I bending my wrist like the head of a cobra, a tight fist, or letting my hands be loose and wrist straight?

Beth was turning me over and over—I was thrilled because I was breathing and moving my arms and kicking and so excited to be doing something that felt close to swimming, when suddenly the world tipped and I felt sick to my stomach. I recognized the severe vertigo as it hit. I’d experienced it a few times in the past, absolutely hate it and never want to experience it again. I thought the feeling might pass and I so wanted to keep experimenting and experiencing swimming, the rolling over—and then it hit again, the world tipping and stomach dropping. I had to stop my lesson and felt extremely nauseous walking back to the locker room. Taking a shower was a challenge, the world continued to tilt and rock. 

I didn’t want to drive home in this state. I sat in my car crying---freaked out and afraid that this would be the reason I wouldn’t learn to swim. 

When I got home my partner, Carol, saw how pale and sick I looked and didn’t have to insist I lay down immediately.

I came down with a bad case of the flu. It stayed with me the next 4 days. 

After the flu passed, I made myself go back to the pool to practice. I didn’t feel the ease or excitement that I’d come to expect. I felt sad and apprehensive and angry that I’d had vertigo and that it had left me feeling uncertain. 

For the first time I approached my next lesson with apprehension and fear, afraid that I would experience nauseating vertigo.

Between Open Studios and flying to London for my daughter’s wedding—I was going to miss a lesson, that is have a two week break between lessons for the first and probably the worst time in terms of my confidence. I felt funny showing up at lesson 9, having gotten into the pool only once between lessons.

Beth was very careful with me. She didn’t want me to do anything that might trigger the vertigo. She didn’t have me flip over. I worked on my sidekick. I worked on my breathing position. Some of the apprehension began evaporating. I still was weak from the flu and took it easy. I didn’t experience the vertigo.

Beth suggested I get earplugs to prevent me from getting water in my ears, which might cause vertigo. Being in the pool with earplugs was different. It made me focus internally---like mediation, instead of being hyper-aware of, or distracted by the sounds or silence of the poolroom.

In this lesson I can do the breathing position so much easier when kicking or starting on my right side than on my left side. I can only do two or three strokes before I have to stand up again to breathe, before the whole thing falls apart. I collaspe at my waist or tip my head too far back or forward. I forget what I should be doing with my arms. Anything that can be off seems to fall apart in that third for fourth stroke. Beth suggests it is the tightness in my neck sometimes and other times it is the weakness of my left side. When she positions my head I can do it—on my own, my side position falls apart. 

How do I get rid of the lifelong tightness in my neck? I’ve been trying to do slow circles with my head. My partner massages my neck. I don’t know if this is making a difference. Is being more aware of it a good start?

I’m trying to pay attention and acknowledge the weakness in my left side and not be so critical of it, or ignore it. Carol points out that most people have a side that is much weaker which makes me feel less weird about it. 

I didn’t tell Beth how sad and frustrated I’d felt after the last lesson. I felt betrayed by my body and I was afraid that maybe I really couldn’t learn to swim. These kinds of things don’t slip by Beth though. At the end of the lesson she gave me a hug. It made me feel like she wasn’t giving up on me---that she believed I would learn to swim.  So far, the flu was the cause of the vertigo because it hasn't returned.