I crawled to the front door and swung it open so the ambulance could find me. It seemed like a strange thing to do, since I hadn’t called for an ambulance, so I crawled to the end of the sidewalk and sat there, which still didn’t make sense. All the condos look the same, so it was going to be difficult to find me if the door wasn’t open. There was a noise in my head and I couldn’t afford an ambulance so I called a friend to come and get me and he wasn’t happy. It felt weird. I went back and locked the door and stood in front of the house to wait for my friend but I wasn’t standing in front of the house, I was lying on the sidewalk with my face in my shoulder bag because I couldn’t stand up and I was afraid it would scare my friend, so I rolled on my side and propped myself up with my weak arm while my legs sprawled out behind me. I held my bag tight to my chest and tried to look casual, with my crooked smile and unfocused eyes. It was hard to keep my head up but I kept smiling at the pavement and the blurry middle distance until I could see the wheels of a car and my friend’s shoes. I felt like I was running to him but I wasn’t moving. The trees were tall and fast outside the car window. I kept apologizing. It was clear that something had happened that wasn’t going to unhappen. In the emergency room, the woman at the desk kept asking me questions. All my answers were stroke, dizzy, numb. I kept saying the words in different ways so she would understand. She didn’t. She didn’t believe me. They put me in the waiting room, which I knew was wrong, and I realized that I had messed it up because I didn’t call for an ambulance. I kept falling asleep in the waiting room. I looked much worse, slack and crooked, the two sides of my face moving at different speeds. I went back to the desk and said help. They put me in a room. No one believes that I know what I know because sometimes I miss a part or tell it sideways. Some people get stuck on the first thing you say and they don’t let you finish your syllogism. They asked the wrong questions. I gave the wrong answers. They thought I was faking it. I said numb. I meant getting numb, more numb, half of me mostly numb. They said  Lift your leg. I did, a few inches. It was heavy, they were mad. You aren’t paralyzed. They kept missing the point: none of this was normal. I was making strange and ambiguous gestures. I was trying to tell them about the door and the ambulance and the sidewalk. The intern on duty—I never got to see a doctor—decided I was having a panic attack and discharged me. Someone wheeled me to the curb. A different friend helped me into a car.