Conversations about September 10th (Two)

“I won’t be here September 10th,” I tell a friend. She is a strange straggler to my headache journey, in both the classes where I first wrote about headaches and migraines. She knows a little bit about it, as much as I choose to reveal. She looks at me for further details. She knows I’m not one to miss class and with such advanced notice.

“I’m going to Jefferson Headache Center,” I pronounce each word carefully.

“To finally figure out what the fuck in wrong with you?” she asks.

“Something like that,” I shrug, ” to baffle the experts,” I explain.

“To be the next medical mystery?” she says, “medical experiments and all that,” she says.

“Hey if it’s going to put me through college,” I laugh. And if it will make me better, that’s a plus too.


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