Meniere’s Disease and a Lesson on Suffering
Photo by Artur Aldyrkhanov on Unsplash
June 24 2020
For a period of around 3 years, from February 2017 to January 2020, I suffered periodic yet acutely intense attacks of nausea and vertigo, a condition typically diagnosed as Meniere’s Disease. A large part of my cognitive energy during that time was dedicated to trying to find a meaning for this suffering. It was one of the primary catalysts for me to start seriously writing, which in hindsight was the first sign that the disease appeared to have my best interests at heart.
The first time I wrote to try and make sense out of it, I was forced to clarify some thoughts on how the medical system operates, which have been very helpful to make sense of what is happening with good old Rona-virus. We are kidding if we don’t think our health systems are structured for anything but money. You can see that, and still appreciate the work that medical people within the system do, knowing they have very little power to change it and doing their best within it. This is essentially the framework within which I now see every establishment institution.
I also learnt about the power in the perspective that we take in the face of illness. Hope and optimism are real medicine, while despair and fear are true killers. Again, this is central to what we are seeing play out in this pandemic, and particularly the role of the media.
In my second attempt, I wrote about what I learnt about the act of praying, and that we can do things that are good for us even if we don’t fully understand them. I still very rarely have anything that could be described as a spiritual experience while praying, but I know I should still do it, and continue to work out how I can use prayer most effectively in my life.
The main realisation I was having at this stage was the absolutely ridiculous timing with which the attacks were occurring. I can’t really do it justice how they would pop up at exactly the right time within my own personal timeline. It was hard not to conclude that there was some sort of intelligence controlling the whole thing.
It was at this stage that I started to understand my Meniere’s as a spiritual illness, although my interpretation of what it was trying to teach me about spirituality was a bit off the mark.
The closest I got, in my last attempt, was to see it as an act of mercy. Mercy is not a virtue I had thought a great deal about up until then. I’m still not sure I have it completely figured out, but then who has. Looking back at this piece now, I am incredibly proud of it and its relentless search to find positives in Meniere’s, even if it gets a bit intense at times.
I think that stage of my Meniere’s experience shapes one of my now fundamental life rules: never compare suffering. Suffering doesn’t discriminate based on any earthly attribute, but is something that can only be approached from an exclusively spiritual angle.
I’m not going to call Meniere’s a blessing. That seems a bit tone deaf, when I know how many people there are still experiencing it and see no way out. But I can at least get a clear idea on what it’s purpose was. And this time, it is definitely more convincing than the first 3 times I tried, not that they weren’t useful in their own ways.
Meniere’s Disease was a reminder from my higher self, a fail safe that I can only assume I (or at the least someone watching over me) had agreed to set up for myself, to make sure I didn’t get too lost on my spiritual journey.
That’s why it had to be brutal, because it couldn’t be something I could ignore. But that’s also why the brutality was always precisely timed, to ensure the reminders never seemed meaningless, and did not interfere with the mission I was currently embarking on. This included two attacks only weeks apart in late last December early January this year. But in response, once I made the decision to take my spirituality back into my own hands, that was it. It has, aside from brief echos, disappeared.
This is my only advice for fellow sufferers of Meniere’s Disease, and perhaps other seemingly inexplicably brutal illnesses, or even just anyone experiencing extended bouts of suffering: you agreed to this.
It might not seem possible that you could knowingly put yourself through this, but you did. And you did it because you knew that you could handle it. No suffering is meaningless, it always has a reason. I hope you are able to find that reason as well.