Another fall. Another call.
Another emergency scan for the thin, frail man.
His eyes lie.
Nothing is where it should be. Nothing stays put.
Extreme vertigo. Even when flat-footed on flat floors.
His world resembles the topsy-turvy anti-gravity house at Wonder World.
But there’s no exit. And it’s not fun.
Recently reading Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, I was struck by a description of life when everything around you is askew:
…he now began to suffer spatial disorientation. Furniture advanced and retreated in the mechanical manner of a fun house. Like practical jokers, chairs offered themselves and then pulled away at the last moment….
Holding my hand to keep his balance, as trees and bushes made strange, sliding movements in his peripheral vision….
as his mind began to waiver, to short-circuit….
Postcards from Barton Springs 