One Hundred to Zero

One minute I’m fine.

“Hey, we’re going to the store,” my sister tells me.

“Where?” I ask her.

“Walmart, Big Lots,” she says, “I just want to go out.”

‘We’ is her and her boyfriend, they’re inviting me to come along.

“I wanted to get citronella candles,” I say out loud, to remind myself and to inform her while we’re out.

She and I are standing in the kitchen, down the stairs is the front door. My sister heads off to find my mom to let her know we’re leaving. I grab a water bottle out of the fridge and walk down the stairs.

The next minute, I’m not.

I walk down the stairs, open the front door and step outside. It seems like as soon as I crossed the threshold the migraine hit. I got no warning this time. Sometimes, I get this impending sense of doom, or increased sensitivity to light, sound, smell, or nauseous. I’ll get this innate feeling that its coming.

Nope, nothing. Just blindsided by pain.

My sister walks down the stairs and opens the front door. The screen door slamming shut explodes in my ears. She walks past me towards the car. After a moment, she stops down the path.

“Coming?” she asks me.

She sounds so distant, it doesn’t even register at first. The thought is second to the pain, it has to fight it’s way through before I can process it.

My level of functioning plummets. One hundred to zero in sixty seconds.

I just shake my head no. It’s an answer to her question and at the same time an expression of my inability to process what just happened.

I turn and walk back into the house, closing the screen door softly when I return. With the last bit of energy I have I return to my bedroom, struggle out of my jeans and bra and crawl into bed. I hear the car start outside and pull away. I close my eyes and wait.



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