Philippa Thomson - A Hole in My Life. Battling Chronic Dizziness.

A compelling account of awe-inspiring resilience, courage and determination in the face of an extraordinary series of medical challenges. The resulting story is full of important information, information offered in the words of a delightful and engaging individual.

Harriet Spicer, business coach and founder member of Virago Press

Interesting, often shocking and always totally absorbing. The author not only has an important tale to tell, but she delivers it with a gold-tipped pen. Remember, this could happen to anybody she is you and me, and the person next door.

The Wishing Shelf Book Awards

Philippa Thomsons eloquent, personal account reminds us of something that should be obvious, but often isnt: The patient is the person who not only presents with a condition, but also lives on with that condition and the outcome of all treatments long after all the doctors and nurses have gone home. It also reminds us that good doctors and nurses are priceless, but may not always be easy to find, and that patients are sometimes forced to take charge of their own medical care to get what they need. A wonderful resource for patients and families, and for all those who care about the importance of human experience in medicine.

Dr Jacek Mostwin, John Hopkins Medical Institutions, Baltimore

An amazing piece of work the dignity, beauty and straightforwardness of the language, the unfolding of information in such an accessible way, the meticulous research and the subtle humour.

Mairi St. Clair, retired teacher

A wonderful project that will be of great help to so many who are trying to navigate complex health care delivery systems that are both inefficient, and at times uncaring.

Dr James Soileau, Ear and Balance Institute, Covington, LA

This edition published in Great Britain in 2016 by Philippa Thomson

Copyright Philippa Thomson 2016.
www.philippathomson.com philippathomson0@gmail.com

Philippa Thomson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9935989-0-6
E-book ISBN: 978-0-9935989-1-3

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

Cover design: Janet Hansen
Front cover photograph: Eric Rose www.filmesque.com

Dedicated to Georgie

He who has health, has hope; and he who has hope, has everything.

Thomas Carlyle, Scottish philosopher

This book is primarily about a relatively rare inner ear disorder, and how it has affected my life, but the scope is actually much broader than that. I set out to write the book that I wished had been available when I needed it myself. It is aimed at everyone who may experience dizziness, in all its manifestations, and who needs a better understanding of what might be happening to them. It is also for those treating, or caring for, anxious and/or dizzy people.

I was faced with a series of complicated medical challenges. I have chosen not to water down, or eliminate, any of the detailed information I acquired as a result of that, but to reveal it in the most accessible way possible, within a narrative. A book needs to stimulate and entertain, but I hope this one will educate as well, and raise awareness of all ear and balance disorders.

I have been privileged to have unlimited access to the learning of one of the worlds leading experts in this field, Dr Gerard Gianoli, and I have taken full advantage of that. Its hard to think of a question I havent asked him, and had answered. I have furthermore undertaken an extensive amount of research myself, during my long quest to get well, as well as in the process of writing the book. Dr Gianoli and his partner, Dr James Soileau, have both read the entire contents of the book, and given their approval, so readers can rest assured that the medical information is accurate.

This is a true story, with my recollection of events, and I have related them to the best of my knowledge. I have, however, changed some names and identifying details, to protect the privacy of those individuals. I do not seek to apportion blame to anyone, but there are lessons that can be learned from my experiences.

It could have been my shining moment. But it wasnt.

Come on out now missy, stop hiding in there, said Andrew. Everyone is gathering and were waiting for you. I told them five oclock, and its just a couple of minutes before that now.

I was hovering around my desk, pretending to sort through papers ready for my departure the next day. It was December 1999, I was alone in the open plan office I shared with editorial colleagues at Phaidon Press in London, and my new millennium was about to start afresh, all the way up in Scotland, in a pretty seaside town close to Edinburgh.

I looked up at him, frowning, and pulled a face.

Oh, I wish you hadnt done that. I asked you not to, I said. He beamed at me, and let out one of his hearty guffaws.

I had every reason to think my boss of nearly ten years had lined up some complimentary tales to tell in his valedictory speech, but Id been dreading this moment since the previous day when he hinted what was in store. My hands were now clammy, and a furry lining had developed inside my dry mouth, as I contemplated the prospect of standing out on a limb in front of the assembled staff, while the speech unfolded. All eyes would be on me. My heart began thumping, and the few swigs of vodka that Id imbibed just before Andrews head popped around my door werent providing the calming effect, or courage boost, that I needed. They were more likely contributing to the feeling of nausea slowly sidling in. The alcohol just a small dose from an unlabelled, plastic bottle hiding in my bag, taken neat for conveniences sake had become an increasingly relied-upon prop in recent years, whenever I was confronted with a social situation that I suspected would be my undoing.

I followed him out into the large open area, a vast expanse of clear glass at the far end, overlooking Regents Canal, now transformed into a sombre, black curtain. People were milling around chatting to one another, and the sounds were rippling around the cavernous, double storey foyer of the converted wharf building. Andrew began talking, and I stared down at one of the shiny buckles on my suede shoes, trying to focus on it, and stop the swaying feeling that was starting to build up. I knew I needed all my concentration just to remain standing there, upright and steady, but I also had to try to take in some of the words so that I could smile, albeit in a forced manner, at the right moments. And there were plenty of them, as he spent a good ten minutes rattling through my employment history, alluding to a marriage and two children that had occurred within the same time frame, and rounding things off with some warm praise for all my efforts in clearing picture rights and coordinating research on Century the companys enormous photographic record of the century about to end. I had a right to feel proud.

A sea of expectant faces now turned to stare at me, eager to hear what I had to say in response to the generous summary. It was one of those ghastly occasions, and Id been experiencing more and more of them as the months rolled by, when I knew exactly what was expected of me, but I simply couldnt deliver. I steadied myself, trying to block out the pumping heart and the swimming head. I managed to force out several words, hopelessly insufficient ones.