I am not afraid of heights, except for that unsettled feeling I have on a bridge when I look down and wonder what it would be like to jump.
I am not that person who gets lost or turned around and can’t find their way out, although there are times I wonder why I am here.
I feel painful pressure in my ear, the kind associated with air flight, except I am firmly attached to the ground.
I stand up too fast and fall down, stand up, fall down again; I stay down, just for a while, so I can marvel at the spinning lights.
I remember when I knew the cause of this sensation; too many rides on the carousel, too many drinks at the party.
I refuse to succumb to the fear that every headache is caused by an undiagnosed brain tumour, but the germ of the idea, like a tumour still grows.
I feel old, and suffer the vertigo of age, unbalanced just a little by the journey to the tipping point between life and death.