“It only comes three or four times a year—always presaged by The Dream. And it always makes me feel as if I’m dying. The stabbing, grinding ache in my lower abdomen feels as if someone is simultaneously poking me with a bayonet and driving over me with a tractor. Usually it comes on slowly, giving me time to brew a cup of tea from the special herb mixture I’ve concocted, which makes it a bit more bearable. The herbs don’t take all the pain away—nothing short of death could do that. They do, howe...ver, make me feel a little less as if I’m about to meet my maker. But this time the pain hits hard and fast, like a freight train of agony smashing straight into my body. It hurts so much I can barely breathe and even if I get up, it won’t do any good. My herb mixture is at home and I have no way to get it. I think of calling Lexy. It’s the middle of the night but she would understand. She was with me when I had my first few cycles—the ones where my aunt rushed me to the emergency room, certain I had been stricken with appendicitis or something equally deadly.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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