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Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

No, Not Sleeping
Apr. 23, 2003

Buzz. Buzz.

I quickly added another layer of clothing, and bleeped someone in.

There was a knock on my door. Shelby walked in. “Hi. Where’s your camera.”

“Camera know I right it where is?”

She laughed. “Oh did I wake you up?”

I felt the immediate need to lie. “Yes. I sleeping was.”

“Ok. Where’s your camera?”

“No I don’t have one now today.” I said. I went over to the table. Ok. What was wrong with my speech? “I camera have some once purse here in mine.” I said, turning to her.

She laughed. “You must have been really out of it when I buzzed. Just give me your camera, and you can go back to sleep. I’m late for class.”

Ok. I hadn’t been sleeping. I had just sent darlin-man an e-mail. I had been tired all day from the hike I had taken yesterday. But. Something was wrong. Shelby was chatting on and on about her new job.

I turned to her. My voice was too high. “I wasn’t sleep you buzz when.”

“You weren’t? What were you stuck in the middle of a dream or something?”

“I was middle of mailing e’s. Good e-mail. Nothing bad. Legitimate.”

She laughed again. “It’s ok. I don’t mind if you nap in the middle of the day.”

I was growing very uneasy. Something was very wrong. I found the camera. I could hold rational, linear thoughts in my head, but I couldn’t speak clearly. I tried speaking really slowly. “I go to the store for food some times tonight so you can’t take camera back for me today.”

“Ok. No problem. How about tomorrow?”

“No good tomorrow bad too because I go away in the night. Something wrong with talking.”

“I know. I can hear it. I will call you tomorrow to see if it is better. Don’t worry. You are probably just tired.” She gave me a hug. “Go to sleep. I’m late for class.”

I lunched with Nellie the next day. While driving to her house it occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t be driving.

“I’m out of it much so.” I said, really worried.

“Meds?”

“Maybe. I’m having trouble talking correctly right.”

“Oh, good. Then I get to do the talking for a change.” She said.

Later I tried to cancel dinner arrangements with friends.

“Meds are acting fun. I don’t drive now.” I said.

“We can come to get you!”

We found our way to a great Mexican restaurant where I asked them lots of questions about their jobs, to hide my new speech difficulties. No. They could tell.

“It’s like you are Schizophrenic! It’s so cool. Please. Say something else. Wow. This is a Holly we have never seen. Do you think you will stay like this?”

Ralph came over a few days later. He shrugged. “I don’t notice anything. You are the same to me. Now. Read me a column. I want to take a nap.”

I e-mailed Darlin-man about our date on Friday, asking if he were open to a quiet evening at home. I figured that I could hide my new speech impediment with a movie. I had only e-mailed him all week, mentioning that I wasn’t feeling well.

“So. What’s wrong?” He asked. “You haven’t explained your mystery un-wellness.”

“I’d rather not say.” I said, very slowly and deliberately.

“You can tell me, I’m a Doctor.”

“I don’t want tell you, because you’re Doctor.” My friends had started to wonder if I’d had a stroke. It wasn’t just the speech problems that had them worried, I was also losing my way walking around my own neighborhood. It was a bit troubling to think about.

The doctors would let me know the following Monday that I was having a severe reaction to my meds, easily remedied by lowering the dosage. But. Tonight I wasn’t looking for a cure or a quick trip to the hospital. I really needed to relax.

“You don’t want to tell me? Oh. You must have diarrhea?”

I laughed, sinking into the couch. I was still incredibly exhausted. “No.”

“Vomiting?”

“No.”

“Are you contagious?”

“I don’t know, and you can welcome to call my neurologist, but last time I talked at him he said that Epilepsy wasn’t contagious.”

We laughed.

He sighed and squinted his eyes. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Cuddle.”

“You women are so strange, you know that?” He said, gathering me up in his arms. “Always wanting to be held. “What is up with that, anyway?”

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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