The serialisation of my demise Part 2

I recall crawling on my hands and knees into the living room. I remember thinking as I used every iota of my strength to climb on to the sofa, “This shit is serious, what the hell is happening to me?” This time it was worse, much worse. This time the seizure, or whatever it was, took me to the floor. A rationalisation of what had happened began to stream through my head. “Its hot, damned hot, I’ve feinted through lack of fluids. I’ve overdone it that’s all” But no, part of me knew that it was worse, much worse. I remember feinting at school once. It was never like what I was experiencing now. Back then it was a simple swaying sensation then ‘goodnight Vienna’. On both of these occasions I had the same strange smell, music, deja vue, and a feeling that my soul was being extracted like a hapless victim in some schlock horror science fiction movie. Confusion and fatigue, “I don’t want to be alone right now, where’s Francesca and the kids?”
Francesca, my long suffering partner, and my two young daughters, Olivia and Camilla, returned from grocery shopping about fifteen minutes later. Francesca instantly saw that there was something wrong with me, and as the children ran about with their ice creams I ‘sobbed out’ my latest experience.
“Look”, she said, “Its likely nothing, but you’d better go and see a doctor”. “You don’t have to tell me twice”; I replied with a tremor in my voice, and with that I reached for the handset.