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The room shrinks.
She missed again, the vein dodging the needle.
The body reacts
And ineffective. Cold yet sweaty, those ears sink under water.
My bags unpacked, my threads untied, yet
I am gone.
Nothing remains, and the nothing is tranquil.
A second? An hour?
The cacophony begins, muted
The ears throb and resurface.
Voices touch, hands speak. I taste their worry.
I am back.
I wash in the relief of my return. I’m not ready.
I'm on a medication that requires my blood to be monitored no less than once a month. Since starting this process some five years ago, I have had a few vasovagal episodes like this one.
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