It had been a cracking night and one half of my mind was telling me to stay in bed as the other was sounding the alarm.
The alarm won in more ways than one.
I opened my eyes.
At least I thought I did.
I even felt I did.
Perhaps the curtains were drawn, so I turned my head to check.
Then it screamed out from the depth of my soul and the other alarm went. The one in your head that you feel in the pit of your stomach. The one labelled PANIC!
In this case, blind panic.
First instinct is to shout. I live alone and it is Sunday morning at? At what time exactly, I have no idea.
For some obscure reason I feel my eyes blink. As if this simple act would reboot my visual system. It did not.
A phone, where is my phone?
Deep breaths. Try to visualise.
First I try to sit up. Slowly. Bedside table to my left. Slowly move left arm towards it. Feel it touch the front. Slide it up until I reach the flat top. Then pat gently with palm of my hand in attempt to find phone.
No phone. Just my wristwatch.
Where did I put it?
Need to pee.
Which way is the door?
Decide to crawl in general direction until I hit the wall then I slowly move along it to my right until I reach the door. Legs feel like jelly as I stand up, head is aching, heart pounding. Opening the door I take a step forward and turn left, another step forward. Wall. Stretch out arm to right and side-step along the wall till I feel the toilet door.
Finally, as I sit on the toilet, my phone rings.
By time I get into the hallway the ringtone has stopped. The sound came from my left. Leaning on the wall I slowly move towards where the sound emanated and walk into my coat. A feeling of triumph envelopes me. Then disappears, as I realise, being blind means I cannot make a call.
In order to do anything with my now not-so-smart phone. I need to see the screen. I try hard to visualise the icons. Then remember that I re-arranged them earlier in the week.
Panic sets in again.
After revisiting the toilet I finally find my way into the living room and locate the TV remote control as well as my trousers. First I struggle into my trousers and then I press, what I hope, is the button for Channel one.
I let out a sigh of relief when I hear the newsreader say it is one o’clock in the afternoon. I leave the TV turned on. It helps me stay calm. I sit on the floor. Having missed the sofa.
I remember that my phone has voice activation. Not sure if I have it switched on though. Still, it’s worth a try.
I am almost ready to throw the phone away when the doorbell saves it.
Getting up I walk into the dining table.
“I’m coming, just a moment.” I shout. Forgetting that I live on the tenth floor of a block of flats with a speakerphone system. By the time I locate the door-phone, whoever was calling has left.
I slide down to the floor and begin to cry.
Then, out of despair I remember the Red Button. The door-phone has an emergency call button. I slide back up the wall and press it.
“Hello, which service do you require?” she asks.