Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Beginning

Fuck. That feeling. But I can't quite tell. Is it what I think it is? I gotta get ready for work.

I feel dizzy. But I've been so good at taking my meds when I'm supposed to. I'll take a naproxen just in case and make sure to eat a good breakfast.

I can barely make it through this bowl of oatmeal. I feel sick. I need to lie down for a few minutes. The bus leaves in 12 minutes so I have 7 minutes to get my shit together and leave.

Put on your shoes, pick up your keys, and leave.

The first step is to get up.
Get up.
Get up.

I kinda feel like I'm going to throw up.

Finally out the door of my apartment. My neighbor greets me, "Good morning!"

I return the smile and the salutation.

I open the door of my apartment complex and the sunlight hits me. Jesus Christ. Where the hell are my sunglasses? I can't find them. Oh well, they're too tight for my head right now anyway.

The fresh air makes me feel a little bit better. I feel like I've got this under control and I'm good to go to work. I can get through the day.

For about two minutes.

Here's the bus. There's only one seat and it's squished between a bunch of people in a really awkward spot. I'll just stand. It's only a ten minute bus ride. 

Nope. That's not going to work. I need to sit, now. Excuse me, yes, sorry, can I sit there? I know, sorry. 

The rest of the bus ride is spent with my head in my palms because I can't deal with the sunlight or the movement of the bus. I don't get up to give an elderly person my seat. I feel slightly shitty about it, but not enough to risk vomiting on someone. God, please don't vomit on someone. Please.

Finally, my stop.

Fresh air again. And I made it to my building. I could take the elevator to my office on the third floor, but if I take the stairs, there is a private restroom on the second floor I can use in case I need to vomit. I'll take the stairs.

I look up at the stairs and comically almost start crying (but I don't). Once I'm  up the first flight, I realize that I'm fine, so I ascend the second flight. And I feel shitty. Really, really shitty. It's just occurred to me that I shouldn't have tried to come into work today. But I need to set up the projector for this meeting so I might as well do that while I'm here and then go home.

I get into the office and am dragging the aforementioned projector to the meeting room and H asks me if I'm okay. Not even 30 seconds into my work day and I'm professing that I need to go home. It is pathetic. L swoops in to help, too. They give me caffeine and offer to drive me home and other really thoughtful things. It's nice to have moms around when your mom can't be there. I'm starting to feel better and like I can actually get through the work day. Maybe I was just overreacting before. I'm still feeling a bit sick though so I go to lie down for a few minutes.

It creeps up on me, the auras. They usually do. My mouth goes numb. I lose my peripheral vision. I can't feel the tips of my fingers. In this moment, I know that I have 20-30 minutes to get home, create a dark space, and try to put myself to sleep.

I'm out the door to catch the bus. I take the stairs on the way down. I'm waiting at my stop. A woman asks me to buy her a cup of coffee from DeLauers. I welcome the distraction. I catch my bus. It only takes $0.25 from my Clipper-- it registers this as a transfer since it's coming off the tails of my last bus ride. 

I get home just in time. I put my stuff down, vomit, pop a melatonin and then the pounding starts.


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