Life Update /007 (Three Days in Limbo)

Lilacs in Notting Hill, pony kisses, the curious experience of losing consciousness, a special offer for our paid subscribers, and more

On an ordinary Thursday morning last week, after our usual coffee together, I climbed the stairs to begin my day as I had many times before. But at the top of the landing, something shifted. A strange weakness crept through my body, accompanied by a rising wave of nausea that seemed to hollow me out from within. The familiar surroundings suddenly felt precarious, as though the ground beneath my feet had suddenly become uncertain.

I called down to P., my voice carrying a note I didn't recognise—something between concern and bewilderment. “I'm not feeling well” I managed to say, though the words felt inadequate for the strangeness overtaking me.

He must have heard something in my tone that alarmed him, because I could hear his footsteps taking the stairs two at a time. He reached me just as the world began its retreat. First, all sound seemed to drain away, as if someone had slowly turned down the volume of life itself. Then my vision dissolved into a wash of pure white light, and I felt myself surrendering to whatever was pulling me under.

The unconsciousness claimed me twice—brief, weightless moments where I existed somewhere between presence and absence. When I finally surfaced and stayed, P. was there, his face etched with the particular worry that comes from watching someone you love slip away, however briefly, from the ordinary Thursday morning you'd been sharing just moments before.