Ten more minutes. Ten minutes and all hell breaks loose.

My phone pings and I’m scared to look, it’ll just be another “good luck” message from another scared friend ready to lose… something for 24 hours.

If you’re lucky it’s smell. Nobody knocks losing their sense of smell for a day.

The clock ticks down and I’m hyper aware of the senses I cherish most. I’ve lost hearing the most and I hope for that again. Sight… I remember one year when I was a small child my sight went on Sense Day, mum said I’d spent the first 12 hours crying as she juggled her own loss of smell.

I’ve lost touch just the once and it’s the sense that scares me the most. There’s a scar up my leg, brutal and harsh from the last time.

Midnight comes and my focus softens. My eyes strain in the artificial light as I try to see, try so hard to fight the inevitable loss of sight. Within minutes it’s gone. All is dark. I grope around to keep my bearings as I stand and ready myself for the coming hours.