I got dizzy last night. Felt as though I’d fall down, right to the floor then stay there spinning as someone threw knives just a little too close to my ears.

“What’s wrong?” Y asks.

I shake my head, the leaves painted along the wall behind her start crawling upwards, over themselves.

“Just a little dizzy,” I say, closing my eyes.

She comes and sits on the floor in front of me, holds my hand.

“It’s probably the weather,” she says. I nod, standing. I walk to the kitchen for some tea. N comes in.

“Do you want some tea?” I ask.

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just feel dizzy.”

The worrying starts at the tip of his nose. It gets in his mouth and eyes. He walks off without saying a word. I go back into the bedroom. It is at a different angle than it had been a few minutes before. I try not to spill my tea, finding my way into the bed. I close my eyes. Y crawls in next to me.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I nod. Something sits down on the end of the bed. I open my eyes. N is there with his computer.

“So, you’re dizzy? Like, how?”

“Dizzy. Like–I don’t know, dizzy. Like–like time has turned to mud and everything is sort of sloshing about.”

N nods, clicking away on his laptop. “They don’t have ‘time-turned-to-mud’ as a reason for dizziness.”

I feel a bit like vomiting. “Well, doctors should be more creative, then.”

He doesn’t respond. I sigh. “Fine, it feels like I am about to vomit without actually having to vomit, how is that?”

He asks Y something in Russian, too fast for me to catch. I glare at them.

“Speak in English dammit.”

They don’t.

“Is there anything else? Did you do anything or take anything?” N asks.

I shake my head.


He clicks away some more, talking to Y in Russian.

“Okay,” he says finally, “it seems like this is something that happens to old people.”

“I’m not old!” I snap.

He shrugs. “Or pregnant people.”

“Well, I must be pregnant, then.”

Y pats my arm.

“You’re not pregnant,” she says.

“Well I’m not damn old either!”

N reads some more. “It says it happens to old people a lot.”

“I’m just dizzy, it’s fine.”

“Or old,” N mutters.

Y moves closer, “or pregnant,” she says, comfortingly.

I close my eyes and turn my face into the pillow.

“Do you need an ambulance?” N asks.

“Hell no, I’ll be fine.”

Y says something in Russian. I can only catch a few words–I make a promise to myself that if I do not succumb to death-by-dizziness, I’ll learn Russian better.

They go back and forth. I can tell they are worried.

“Don’t you call an ambulance,” I warn.

I turn back. The worry has spread from N’s nose onto Y’s face. I roll my eyes–or maybe the room simply rolls, I can’t tell. “I’m just–” I grit my teeth, “old.”

N pats my foot, closing his laptop. “Or pregnant,” he consoles.


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A Writer and an artist living in Russia

17 Comment on “A Dizzy, Old, Pregnant Baby

  1. Pingback: Doktor Doktor Give Me the News – Flash 365

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