Pizza, popcorn and falling up the stairs

I clutch the handrail, lifting one foot in front of the other. David follows me, really close - my personal border collie - ensuring that I don't fall. 

"I'm good," I say. I'd give a sloshy thumbs-up, but my left hand is presently holding the other wall. My feet mostly feel the stair treads beneath them. I'm only a little pukey.

I'm not generally a moron, but I overdid it. Again. 53 frickin' years old, I should know better.

I had pepperoni pizza for dinner, and then, I had popcorn with butter salt on it.

NOT drunk. Disabled.

It's almost four years since my diagnosis with Secondary Endolymphatic Hydrops... which is kinda sorta Meniere's Disease affecting your ear's vestibular system, though technically it's not Meniere's Disease because that is Primary Endolymph... and I can already see your eyes glazing over. Medical, medical medical... blah, blah, blah...

I tip over. I'm on medication to stop me from tipping over. 

Most of the time it works, but every now and again, like if I have pepperoni pizza and popcorn on the same night, my ears are in the middle of the North Atlantic and my extremities either stop working or I look like I'm having mini seizures. Salt is my Kryptonite.

But... Popcorn.

So it is no shock to find myself staggering into the bathroom with David and Rissa close behind. I plunk down on the toilet, desperately needing to pee because we've discovered the protocol for an attack is getting me to drink three or four glasses of water along with an extra pill to equalize the fluid in my... medical blah, blah, blah. Eye roll.

"Oh man, I'm so sorry," I say. "Really stinky pee." 

"Thank you!" says Rissa, brushing her teeth.

"Noted," says David, around his own toothbrush.

They've both turned their heads away.

"So stinky," I say, flushing the toilet as I'm sitting. "Must be the vitamins. Vitamin B can really mess with urine." 

A side effect of looking like you're drunk is that your body also thinks you're drunk. My brain is foggy. It's going to be at least a half hour before I'm fully coherent. 

I have a horrible thought. What's if it's not the vitamins making my pee smell like that? What if it's not the pee? What if it's just me? What if this is what I smell like now? What if this emanates from ME?

"David," I yell. He's already left the bathroom.

"Yes?" he yells back.

"David you may have to smell my vagina."

"No," he says. "I don't think that I do. I promised a lot of things when I married you, but that was not one of them."

"What if this were less smelling and more just breathing near it?"

"Nope."

He may not have my front, but he always has my back.