She walked down the block slowly, placing one small step in front of one small step, gently rubbing her tummy with one hand. ‘Why does it hurt so much this month,’ she thought as she tried to soothe the cramps. She arrived at the Chinese place to pick up her order of chicken wings and fried rice. She stepped into the small restaurant, hoping for a slightly cooler atmosphere—it wasn't. She watched absentmindedly as some butch chick and her equally butch boyfriend (?) ordered eight chicken wings and large fries. They finally moved aside and she made eye contact with the Chinese woman behind the glass window.
She opened her mouth to tell the woman that she'd ordered over the phone. Instead she said, "Ah oberred ovah da pone". ‘Why does it sound like I'm slurring my words a bit', she thought as the Chinese woman held up her order and asked if she wanted ketchup. She shook her head 'no', took a step forward and the world became an orb of spinning lights. She managed to make it to the counter, pay for her order and walk gingerly outside--all the while, chanting in her head, 'oh god, please. Just let me get home. Please'.
She stopped and leaned against the window of the Laundromat next door. She placed one hand against her mouth to push back the nausea, the other she placed against her closed eyes and prayed for the world to stop playing dress-up as a spinning kaleidoscope of lights. Slowly and a bit afraid, she opened her eyes. 'Better. Thank god.'
She continued down the block and a half home. 'Just need to get home. It'll be alright if I just get home'. She made it across the street, down the eight stairs leading into her building, through the suddenly heavy front door and into the steel elevator; she managed to press the button for the 6th floor as the spinning began anew. “Almost there”, she muttered, just as the world lurched violently and her head hit the elevator panel. A voice seemingly far away was barely heard.
"....you....kay...?"
She shook her head softly to clear it, so she could understand what was being said.
"Are you okay?"
She brought a trembling hand to the bridge of her nose and squeezed, before responding, "I'm just... a lil... dizzy". She took a deep breath, put a hand against the elevator wall to both hold her up and push off so that she could stand straighter. Everything lurched again before she could completely balance herself, her hand against the wall the only thing keeping her standing.
"What apartment are you?" she heard, or thought she heard.
"Six....twen...ty...three" she replied to the faraway voice, trying with everything in her, not to throw up. She was led out of the elevator. Holding onto a strong forearm, she slowly and blindly followed the stranger, trying not to be overwhelmed with thoughts of fear, confusion, wonder embarrassment and fantasy, each vying to be uppermost in mind.
What the hell is wrong with me anyway? A brain tumor? Cancer? Yeah right, probably just a combo of not eating anything, getting my period and the heat--it is fuckin 97 degrees. How would I have gotten home by myself? Who is this guy anyway? I guess not all ghetto black dudes are without manners. Does this make him my knight in shining armor? Wonder if he's cute? Right now, he's just a mess of color and light. I would probably crush on him if I could see his face and it was appealing enough. Doesn't every girl dream of being rescued--and here I thought I was immune to such girly sentiments. God, this is so fuckin embarrassing, I'm like a blind handicapped old woman. Good thing, I don't know what he looks like. Oh fuck...are we there yet? I really gotta throw up...
They finally arrive at apartment 623 and she breathes a shaky sigh of relief. "You gonna be okay?" the knight, I mean stranger asks. "Y-yes. Thank you so much," she says and rings the bell. She'd just needed to get home and now she had....everything would be just fine.
So….you’ve probably guessed it, but this is what actually happened to me today. It was so damn scary. I’m hardly sick. I only get a cold twice a year. That’s it. So, when things like this happen, it really frightens me, making me feel really vulnerable. To sort of lessen that fear, I decided to write it as a story, one with a bit of humor in it.
Did anything like this happen to anyone else? Was it just as scary and/or embarrassing? Tell me about it in the comments.
Until next time,
Tuma
Life is Funny,
Except when it’s not and your world suddenly becomes a spinning ball of light!
