It’s Saturday night. I’ve put away the groceries and eaten some supper. I’ve been off work since Tuesday and I’m exhausted. I don’t want to talk. I can’t talk, not without a lot of effort. I sit in the armchair, slightly slumped so my head can rest against the back cushion. I’m curled a little, on my side, head facing away from Hub. I don’t want him to see me.
Everything is shutting down. I can’t think. My head isn’t sore but it is the centre of things. From the left a feeling is spreading over me. Sliding down my forehead, pressure on my eye. Moving swiftly down my cheek, tingling and spreading. The side of my mouth is numb. Down my neck, into my shoulder and arm, like a wave of pins and needles, pulling and pressing on me. Now my body, caught up in the same wave. Finally into my leg and foot.
I sit there, not talking, not wanting my husband to know. I think I’m having a stroke. I don’t want to tell him. If I told I would have to go to hospital and I don’t want to do that. I know (think?) I could talk if I wanted to but I want to retreat. I am in here and I want to stay. I have never been so ill. I’m done. I’m scared. So I won’t tell him.
Don’t do what I did, if you have the symptoms, get help, straight away, better to be mistaken than too late.
© 2010, Penbleth / L. McG.-E.. All rights reserved.