Spinning in Place

Running through the maze, I thought I could see the end of the tunnel. The mythological white light. I turned every corner, running into dead ends and turning back around, not even knowing which paths I had been on before already.

At some point gravity was reversed and I ran across the ceiling, trailing behind a green faerie of some sort, staring out at the horizon for the white light again. Can-can girls began to dance on the sidelines and their own rendition of "A Diamond is a Girls
Best Friend" echoed through the maze.

I fell into a pile of leaves and rolled onto a beach filled with glass pock-marks. I slid into a small tunnel filled with crystal structures and rainbow refraction blinding my eyes. A sudden fall jolted me out of my daydream and onto the floor of my psychologist's office.

He leveled his gaze at me. The furniture was pushed back.

"You had a seizure."

I nodded, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Preceded by a panic attack."

I nodded again, the rectangular-tiled drop ceiling flickering back and forth in front of my eyes.

"Do you want to talk about what triggered the panic attack?"

I shook my head, trying to force the ceiling to stop moving.

"Talking about it might help prevent them in the future."

I shook my head again. I knew if we talked about it, I'd just have another one. I liked not getting to wander through my subconscious in the middle of the day.

"Alright, we'll talk about something else."

The ceiling was starting to settle into place; that was nice.

"Do you want to sit in a chair now?" He pulled the chairs back in place, sitting in his.

I shook my head, happy with the solidity of the floor under me.

"Alright." He glanced at his watch. "We're almost out of time for today. How many of these seizures are you having now?"

I closed my eyes and counted to ten before saying, "A day or a week?"

"If you have to ask, let's go with a day."

I counted to ten again, if I didn't, I'd just have another panic attack. "Three."

"Down from?"

A count to ten. "Seven. But the seizures are worse."

He nodded.

"Can you sit up now?"

I nodded and slowly worked my way up to a sitting position.

"Feeling better?"

I nodded again.

The stripes on the wall were a bit wavy, but that was settling down slowly.

"Are you still counting to ten before you speak?"

I nodded.

"How long does that last after each seizure?"

Another count to ten. "Usually half an hour or so."

"Are you ready to talk about what set off this panic attack?"

I nodded.

"We were talking about your brother."

My eyes widened and my heart started racing. My breath got shallow. My brother had spent years torturing me.

"You had just told me about his nasty habit?"

I shut my eyes. The lines on the walls were spinning.

"What did he do?"

I shook my head. He waited.

I tried to do the exercises, deep breathing, calm my heart rate. It was partially successful, so I thought I might be safe.

I counted to ten. "He-he burned-" My vision went black. I put my head between my knees and tried to calm my heart and breath.

"What did he burn?"

Ten. "Arms. Ci-cigarette." I could hear his pen scratching on that infernal pad of paper he had. I opened my eyes and watched the floor spin a bit beneath me.

He leaned forward and patted my back. "You've done well today."

I nodded as much as my knees would allow me to.

"Our time is up for today."

I winced.

"We'll pick up from here tomorrow." He stood up and opened the door. "The nurse will help you get back to your bed." A nurse wheeled a chair into the room.

I hated needing one to get anywhere after one of the attacks, but that was it. I hated needing to be here in the first place, but such was life, right?