Firsts. ...and lasts?

Lifedate: 37:6:25:9:55

Yep... I made it 37 and a half years without having an ambulance called for me. That run ended this morning.

What happened? Well... It would seem that Stress and Anxiety finally got fed up with being ignored and they teamed up to induce what Margaret Mitchell would likely have referred to as a "spell".

I was fine when I woke up, but that started to change while I was getting ready for work. I started feeling slightly light-headed, but I just excused it as the combined result of not sleeping well this week and the fact that I've had my head so buried in my work that eating has become more of an optional activity than one which is meant to sustain life.

This'll pass, I thought to myself as I brushed my teeth and hair. It always does.

Upon boarding the train, my entire body started to tingle and feel weak. ..and the morning's dizzyness, far from passing, was quickly reaching critical levels. I needed to sit. Immediately.

It was at this point that I started to get a little scared.

Am I going to faint? Will I come-to before my stop? Will I fall out of my seat?

These were the thoughts racing through my spinning head as I tried to ignore the genuine cascade of perspiration running down my face, back and chest.

Oh my God. What if something's seriously wrong? Will help be able to get to me? Will someone even call for help? Will all the trains get delayed on my account?

Stress, after wearing me down during the early rounds, had tagged-out and Anxiety had clearly stepped into the ring to toy with me a little. Bastards.

My body was awash with a feeling that is difficult to explain. The only time I can remember feeling anything similar was in Grade 6 on class-party day. Being a boarder, I had the opportunity to chat extensively with the school's resident nurse, so I was well aware of how much she hated kids coming to her office complaining of being queasy on party day. (No human body is meant to consume that amout of sugar in a year, let alone in a few hours.) ...so I did the only thing I could think of. I waited until AFTER I had purged, and then went to see her for a lozenge to soothe my acid-burned throat. Unfortunately, she had stepped out so I was forced to await her return. It was during this period that I began to feel light-headed. Wisely, I sat down, because the next thing I was aware of was being shaken awake by the nurse when she returned. I had fainted. Plain and simple. One crazy cupcake bender knocked me into a brief sugar coma.

This was the same feeling. (...only, without the cupcakes)

The difference, of course, is that when you're 12 or 13 years old, you're still immortal. By the time you reach 37, you've seen enough evidence of mortality that it's much more difficult to ignore. Cue Anxiety.

I made it to my stop without incident, but I reckoned that it would be advisable to rest in the cool, shaded breeze of the station before heading to the office. While sitting there, I still couldn't shake the feeling that, at any second, I was going to lose consciousness. There were a few attendants on the platform and I advised them that I wasn't feeling well and was going to be sitting down, but could they keep half an eye on me in case I really did faint. Being the conscientious types they are, they didn't leave me unattended, but, rather, kept me company and filled the time by getting me to provide any pertinent personal medical information or conditions with may account for my current condition. As I don't suffer from any long-term maladies nor take any medications for persistent conditions, there wasn't much I could tell them. The only thing I knew for sure was that something wasn't right and it wasn't getting any better.

By this time, the attendants had already asked me a few times if I needed an ambulance, but I'm such a "guy" that unless my life's in immediate danger I'm not going to seek professional help. However, Axiety wasn't quite done beating me down just yet. One more wave of dizzy panic and I agreed that maybe someone should check me out. ...and that was it. My first ambulance was on its way.

I wish this story had a big finish - something epic with a thousand elephants - but it really doesn't. According to the ambulance attendants, my blood-pressure was fine, my blood-sugar was fine, and my pulse was fine. I was told that what I was feeling had all the earmarks of a stress-induced episode, possibly maginfied by some minor hyperventilation and that it would likely pass within the hour. ...which it did.

I always felt, in my arrogant, me-first youth, that hard work was the Devil's hand and it seems I was right. I don't know how my Dad managed it. Ego, probably.

...bottom line? I'm going to cut down on the 16 hour workdays and try to get more exercise.

Yeah, riiiiight.


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So, there we have it. My first blog post is about another of life's firsts. Here's to many more posts and NO more ambulances. :)