“Floating, no up or down, no arms or legs, no me... A bright light skewered one eye and then the other. I blinked. The light pulled back to reveal Louise, holding an ophthalmoscope. “Angie, are you okay?” Louise asked, her voice filled with concern. Her features were cloudy from the artificial tear gel she’d put into my eyes to keep them from drying out during my fugue, but a few more blinks and my vision cleared. Wish I could say the same for my brain. I nodded in answer to her question—didn’t ...have the strength for words yet. She checked my pulse, nodded, patted my hand, and then moved away from me. I closed my eyes—it was too much work to keep them open. Usually after a fugue, I was exhausted, but there was also a weird energy. And my other fugues had ended with cascades of music and light and sensory experiences that, while frightening, were also stimulating. This one hadn’t been like any of the others—I felt drained, as if I was the one who’d been sucked dry of every memory.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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