Laying in bed, all was well until the panic attack came on fast and hard. Whumpee couldn't breathe. They couldn't, couldn't bre-breathe oh gods they couldn't breathe.
They jumped out of bed so fast to get themselves upright and holding the wall to catch their breath but then they lost power in their arms and smashed their face into the wall.
Fragmented memory let them remember sliding down the wall but they woke up face down on the floor with Caretaker calling their name. How long were they out?
Ugh. Headache. Face hurts. A lot. Getting themselves up, they tried to convince Caretaker that they were fine.
"It was probably just the panic attack that made me black out, I just need some water and sleep."
"..ok," Caretaker started "but if you don't feel better in a day we are seeking help."
Well, a day goes by. The morning of the second day, Whumpee is presented to the Emergency Room after the Urgent Care scared them half to death saying they were dying from a brain bleed.
The lights in the emergency department were not helping Whumpee, neither was the loud television playing the news.
After four hours, the diagnosis was made: a concussion. And a decent one at that.
"Next time, just come right to us. Avoid the trouble," the doctors said.
