Banana Bay is beautiful. The water is shallow and safe, turquoise and crystal clear. The restaurant serves appetizing choices; spending 4 hours is effortless. You just sit, wade and marvel at the majesty humanity cannot create.
There are children playing and I long for my grandchildren.
The evening brings a home-cooked meal followed by Black Jack with friends, and I am with my love – such happiness! I’m winning. Have I finally matured to the point where feeling this simple joy is not balanced by guilt? It seems so, until . . .
The deal is changing – time for a bathroom break and a cigarette. I take a drag and in an instant am overcome with dizziness. I fold my arms on the table and lower my head to rest on them.
Someone speaks to me, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, just felt dizzy all of a sudden.” I cannot focus and feel darkness rising. ” Need to lie down,” I say.
“Go over to the recliner.” Someone is helping me up. In three steps I collapse into a sit.
“Can you here me?” It’s my love.
“Yes, I can hear you.” When I open my eyes, there he is – my husband. I’m so glad he is here. He’s kneeling, leaning in to see my face.
“You scared me. It looked like you were having a seizure,” he says.
I gag and my mouth fills with vomit; I am motioning for something to puke into. There’s a small trash can nearby and luckily there is a plastic bag in it. The release comes from deep within and is followed by another retch, and another from the toes, then another projects with force. When I think I’m done, I am not and completely empty my stomach until nothing from the day is left, no curried chicken salad, no gummy bears, no potato chips, none of the small bites of snapper filet with lemon butter sauce which I had eaten just prior to that cigarette.
Finally, I get to lie down though I have to move to do it. It didn’t last long before I said, “I’m going home.” Which in this case meant down the hall to my apartment/condo. My lover was with me every step. When we arrive he gets me a glass of water.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You were unresponsive,” he said.
“You said it looked like I was having a seizure.”
“Yeah, you shuddered,” he said. “What did it feel like; do you remember?”
“I remember putting my head down and walking to the recliner. . . then I opened my eyes and saw you.
“But your eyes were never closed,” he added. “You were just staring. I gently slapped your cheeks do you remember that?”
“No.”
Falling asleep that night was scary – thought I might not wake up.
So, I wrote this, and now I’m in the airport – Freeport, GB; I’m going home to at least 10 inches of snow to figure out what to do with this experience.