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often and why.

I never stopped long enough to look after myself. I couldn't take time away from work and him.

There's nothing wrong with me except allergies and menopause. It had been a long time since I had been treated for anything. Well, except for sinus infections and a pinched nerve in my back in 1994. Last time I had my blood pressure checked it was 173 over something. But that was from the pain or because I was sick.

And then, on a Sunday evening, late last October; I was watching television with my husband. I had not been feeling well, a headache or maybe a head cold, so I'd taken some Benadryl and Ibuprofen. And I fell asleep for a while. When I woke up, my right arm was numb. I must have slept hard. It wasn't tingling. I must have slept really hard.

I got up to use the rest room and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was different, kind of droopy maybe. Probably from sleeping too hard. I tried to touch my face. My hand and arm were still sleeping and I couldn't feel a thing. I used my left hand and felt my face. It felt okay - it just looked different. I went back to the bed.

My husband asked if I was all right. I'm fine, I mumbled. My tongue felt too big for my mouth. It got caught between my teeth at the back. I wondered why my tongue was swollen.

I called a good friend and told her that I thought I had suffered a stroke and would she be home if I needed a ride to the hospital. I told her not to be worried.
If she didn't hear from me she could assume that nothing was wrong. I'd just slept hard and was being paranoid.

I found the remote with my left hand and pressed DISPLAY I blinked and I squinted. The words were blurry. I asked my husband what we were watching.

"Hah!" he said. "Like I can read it! You tell me what it says."

I couldn't see it.

Oh, well.

I rolled over and went back to sleep.

I got out of bed the next morning and stumbled to the bathroom.

Gee just how much Benadryl had I taken?

My face still looked like Droopy Dog. I had a heck of a time brushing my hair. And I sure couldn't use the curling iron. It was Monday; a casual day in our office. I didn't have to go to a lot of effort. I struggled a bit getting dressed. I couldn't zip my pants so I chose a skirt instead (elastic waist band). Panty hose was a struggle but I managed.

We walked to the bus stop, my husband and I. I was more quiet than usual. I told him my head still hurt.

I was afraid to talk. The words were still mumbled.

I got off the bus and stopped at the bank to make a deposit

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