“I gotta meet HER.”
“Ok. Walk over. Bump into her and start talking.”
“Bump into her?”
“It’ll give you something to talk about.”
“I’ll do it.”
I overheard their silly teen-age middle school- ish plan, but didn’t know I was the intended target. Had I known, I would’ve grabbed a friend and made a bee line for the woman’s bathroom, the only “safe” zone in any bar. I was at a club in Boulder with some girl friends. We had gone to hear some reggae music.
Out of nowhere a man came crashing into ME. Really. This was no bump. I got the brunt of the collision as his skull hit my forehead dead center. Being totally unprepared for the attack, I was thrown backwards into the people behind me. I yelled and grabbed my head as I staggered about trying to gain my footing. He had hit the area of my forehead where my epileptic seizures come from.
“Oh. God. I’m so sorry. I meant to meet you, not kill you.” He said, holding his head.
I didn’t say anything. I crouched down and held my head. I wouldn’t let myself pass out. No way. I wouldn’t pass out. I wanted to. I was seeing white. I was teetering on passing out. But. I refused. I kept my focus on the chair in front of me. Don’t lose the focus. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.
“Are you ok?” He asked. He had tears running down his face. “I can’t believe how hard I hit you. God that hurt. You’re ok, aren’t you?”
Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. It was still fuzzy and the room sounded far away. I kept my breathing even. I kept my head down… I couldn’t pass out.
His tears were coming faster now. He was holding the side of his head. “I can’t believe how much it hurts.”
Oh. Man. The last thing I needed was to get hit in the head right when my medicine had finally stopped my seizures.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” He sobbed.
His friends were crowded around us. “Do we need to call 911?” They teased. “What an introduction!”
“No. I’m fine.” I lied, standing up. The room was spinning. I was trying to figure out which guy had banged into me. If I threw up, I wanted to soak him.
“Are we ok?” He asked.
“Yes.” I lied. “Go away.” I had hoped that Darlin-man would come and meet us after his office dinner party was over. Guess he wasn’t going to make it. Too bad. He could’ve been an extra layer of protection.
He was still crying. “I didn’t mean to HURT you. Sorry. I just wanted to MEET you.”
I held my forehead with both hands as if that would stop the crushing pain. I had a seizure. A red squirrel sitting on the bar. It melted away almost instantly. Ok. One. One seizure isn’t too bad. I can handle four or five in a row before I freak out and want to sleep right away to make them stop. One is very manageable.
“I’m twenty seven years old.” He said. “How old are you?”
Oh my God. He still wanted to meet me? I couldn’t talk to him. I had to calm down. I had to stop the adrenalin rush. No more seizures, thanks anyway. “Fifty four. I’m fifty four years old.” I lied. “Go away.”
“Oh. You’re mad.” He grabbed my hand. “I’m good with fifty four. Let’s go dance and not be mad.”
My friends saved me. “Hey. We’re ready to go.”
“Good.” I said. “Got bumped badly.” Had another seizure. A white circle suspended midway up. It hovered. It dissipated. Ok. That’s two. No problem. I could handle two. Damn it. I was doing so well. No problem. I could sleep off the tiredness tonight. But. I had been seizure free for weeks. Now I had two in one night.
He followed us. “You aren’t mad?”
“I’m mad. Go away.”
One of his friends had to drag him from us.
We walked back to the car. Pain. Major pain. My forehead. I had another seizure. A girl in a dress. She waited a moment and disappeared. Ok. Three. No problem. Three. I can handle three. No problem. I stayed calm, climbed into the car and went to sleep while Shelby drove us home. Sleep stops the hallucinations.