Since the blackouts started and I was on occasion found by neighbours, my building management put me on a high priority emergency plan. Again with those two words. This plan apparently has my information in the fire panel, and at the closest fire house in the building documents. I understand and appreciate it, however the lack of privacy is still hard to get over.
Yesterday I woke to full fire alarms. I put on some other PJs, which I found hard enough to do. I tried to get to the front door to feel heat, at least put a towel down, but I couldn't get there, and I didn't push it, figuring they will put the plan in place if it was a real fire. If it was, nothing I can do myself.
The alarms stop, I get back to bed. I hear a train, then as it gets closer it sounds like the train blew up. There are no trains near me, nor up this high of course. The sky seems black through the crack of my blind.
The sound was sickening for some reason. I thought I was having another episode for the shaking. This all was within about 3 seconds, and the noise and the world is shaking. Hard. I am gripping my bed rail with all my might and the phone in the other hand.
This was my second large earthquake (large enough to me) in 2 months. The first one was on Easter Sunday in San Diego - 7.2. This one was smaller, but was a 5.5 as the reports started coming in.
We don't get earthquakes like this in this part of Canada, the Canadian Shield is not supposed to move like that. It was felt from Montreal Quebec to Windsor, Ontario with the epicenter one hour north from here.
Minimal damage to things, a crack in the ceiling, and small things knocked over is all.
I am beat up. Again. Thankful that I was in bed, if I tried to stand I would have many worse injuries I'm sure.
My ribs and my back are screaming and parts of my back are disappearing when I try to stand. I feel as though I have shin splints. Of course the body is on fire. I have run a marathon, and the anxiety attack returns.
Turning on my front door lobby security channel, I see many people outside. A fleeting thought, I wonder if someone will come up to me, high priority and all.
A day later, I'm still fighting the anxiousness, and the layers of extra pain on top of this usual everyday horribleness is hard. Breathing is something to concentrate on, and trying to control and go slow and steady so I'm not jarring anymore chest pains. It's scary, but the pain is more frightening.