Yesterday I went back to the ENT’s office for some further testing, this time a Computerized Dynamic Posturography. In a harness much like the one I’ve seen the kids wear at the Rock Gym, I was strapped into a machine with moving walls and floor. Paul, who was operating the equipment, said, “Don’t worry, I’ll have my hand right behind you in case you start to fall.” He seemed like a pretty solid, competent guy, and I put my trust in him.
After he had finished rocking my world in a variety of combinations, he turned me loose and had me sit in a chair facing him. I focused on his nose while he sort of snapped my head back and forth. Or rather I tried to focus on his nose.
Next I read an eye chart, then read it again while Paul shook my head. Very odd sensation.
Later he had me walking between two tape lines while turning my head to one side and the other. The last thing he had me do was walk toward him with my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes closed. “I won’t let you hit the wall,” he promised.
It’s an eerie feeling to walk in an unfamiliar room toward an unfamiliar person with your eyes closed.
All the tests seemed to reach the same conclusion. I have residual vestibular weakness from a case of vestibular neurinitis two years ago, leading to some dysfunction of the ocular vestibular reflex on the right side. It explains why I feel dizzy in meetings, where there is a lot of action in my peripheral vision, and why the grocery store can be so overwhelming. Apparently we are actually supposed to be able to see things clearly while we are in motion! What a concept! There are exercises I can do to improve the situation; I’ll get my first lesson on Friday.
Somehow I know by looking into his eyes that Paul will be able to help me get better. The blind man in John 9 must have felt the same way about Jesus, even without the eye contact. I think it’s strange to walk across the room with my eyes closed, but he got up from his begging place and went to the pool to wash, believing something good was going to happen, against everything he had ever been told about himself and his blindness. I can’t wait to see the something good that I trust will come out of this for me.