Gemotions

Her fingers, usually deft at navigating the touchscreen, fumbled. The clinic’s patient portal, typically a familiar landscape, felt alien. She scrolled through the MRI results again, the stark images a cruel joke. That wasn't her spine. That wasn't her body, the one she knew. Her breath hitched. She felt a cold sweat prickling her skin.

The phone slipped from her grasp, hitting the counter with a dull thud. She stared at it, unmoving. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. She needed to sit down. Now.

She managed to reach the sofa, collapsing onto the cushions. The phone lay on the floor, its screen glowing accusingly. What did this mean? What else could be wrong? Tears welled, blurring the already distorted world.