I woke up and it felt like…I was floating.

Out of blurry eyes I could see that I was in bed. My once warm blankets wrapped around me. But I felt detached.

What is going on?

I move my arm, relieved they could still move. And I pull up the blanket to my nose. The smell of cotton fills my nose.

I pull the blanket back down and look around the room. Remembering the day.

“Touch?” I ask myself. “I thought touch would mean that I couldn’t feel with my hands.”

But this was so much worse. Moving made me want to throw up. I couldn’t feel the edge of the bed with my leg but I could see it. So it had to be real. Right?

I’m able to stand but I would much rather be laying down. I know the ground is under my feet. But I can’t feel it.

I try walking down the hallway. But, in order to move, I have to keep my eyes on the floor.

I practice staring straight ahead and end up stumbling into the wall.

I sigh, feeling slightly panicked. I hated this feeling. I loved feeling the air conditioner on my skin when I woke up in the morning. The morning breeze as I walked to the bus stop. The warmth from the sun just before it got too hot. I don’t want to experience that loss.

I make it to my nightstand across the room where my cell phone charges. I call my boss and inform them that I cannot make it into work today.

Once doing so, I lay back in bed. Well, as scary as it is to lose a sense, I can at least try to relax today.