Last night, I got -extra- murdered by the vertigo. Z had to call 111 for advice, and honestly, it was probably borderline as to whether or not we called 999 for an ambulance crew. But it started to push back a bit with Z’s tender ministrations, and I was able to go to bed instead of another session curled up against the toilet trying to sleep (highly do not recommend). I can still feel the vertigo lurking, but Z picked me up assorted meds to throw at it, and that’s helping in its own way. I also made a point to shoot a message to the surgery to see if they could prescribe anything to help me cope, so we’ll see how that goes.
For now, just grateful that it’s after 7, and I’m still upright and downstairs. I very well might go up early and try for a bit of extra rest, but we’ll see.