So nice I did it twice
In a conversation earlier in the week, I had the pleasure of fully telling my story from scratch to someone I don’t know. It was a fun experience to realize how much normalizing I have done with some of the most ridiculous things in my world.
He asked me, “so, tell me how this all started.”
Passing Out Makes a Great Story
For me, it makes the most sense to go back to the incident that resulted in my vasovagal syncope diagnosis. This story has been one that I tell through the years as just another one of the weird medical things that seems to happen to me. The types of things that had previously made me what my husband deemed, “the sickest healthy person in the world.” In talking to this new person, I was laughing about the experience. He pushed back on my approach to telling the story, about what made it so funny to me.
You see, I have always been one to laugh about the harder things in life that I find ridiculous. I don’t know if it is the optimist in me, or just a lens of the world that allows me step back and identify/see everything in the context of almost like a sitcom. The more absurd, the more levels of insanity, and a healthy outcome – makes a more hilarious story. Part irony, part character development, part coping, it’s how I make sense of the world.
This conversation has inspired a series that I am going to do called, Medically Middle. All the bizarre medical stories that have seemed to have prepared me for the current battle I am going through. We will start with cafeterias, the place I seem to have a preference for passing out.
I just wanted a sandwich
So let’s jump back, the year is 2007. It is my freshman year of college, I’ve been living in the dorm for enough months that it feels like home. On the weekends, only one of the cafeterias was open, luckily it was the one closest to my residence hall on this Sunday afternoon. I had not been feeling my best, but couldn’t do another EZ Mac in my room. My dear friend Mel and I ventured to the dining hall.
I wasn’t feeling great. Just normal under the weather stuff. I wasn’t much of a going out or partier, so fight the urge to make an assumption about why a college student wouldn’t be feeling well on a Sunday. I don’t remember being particularly bad, though, just not feeling well overall. We get to Center Court (the cafeteria open), and take a look at everything. Nothing is particularly catching my eye, and there was someone working the sandwich station. Easy, just get a sandwich. The sandwich station just happens to be the furthest from the front door, so I make my way over.
It was a score to be the first person in line. A rather large football player got in line right behind me. The woman making sandwiches looked at me, quickly said, “honey, you don’t look too good.” From here, things get a bit… fuzzy for me.
Let’s account for the things that I do know:
- She requested that the large football player get me a chair, fast.
- I sat down.
…from there it’s blank for a bit.
It may seem abrupt or fast, but that’s the point. It was fast for me.
Only cool kids pee their pants
It’s unclear how long I was out. I did wake up in the chair. I wish I could have gotten that poor football player’s name, because I believe that I may have scarred him for the rest of his life. Furthermore, I realized quickly, I had peed my pants… and that he realized that too. Cool.
My friend, Mel joined us and attempted to make sure I was ok. It was then, the ambulance came. A gurney was rolled across the cafeteria to me. If you remember, the sandwich station was the furthest from the door. Between the sandwich station and the door was, you may have guessed it, everyone. I had the joy of being carted out of the dining hall, in my pee pants, on display for everyone. I pulled the same trick that my toddler does with me, closed my eyes, looked the opposite direction, and just pretended everyone wasn’t there.
My actual time and transport to the hospital was uneventful. No one knew what was wrong (no shocker for me). They did tests. I was making jokes. The more interesting aspects of the hospital, was what happened outside my room. It’s not exactly my story to tell, but I do look back on these facts with so much humor.
Remember, I love layers of ridiculousness on a story, and the hospital had several of these:
- My parents, while they lived an hour and a half away, were out of town at the time.
- They sent my sister Amy, who had just had twin boys.
- Amy brought one of the infant twins with her.
- My friend Mel came too.
- In order for Amy to come back, Mel (remember a college freshman) had to sit with one of my newborn nephews in the ER waiting room of the hospital, alone.
The thought of poor Mel, who was also trying to get some lunch, sitting next to an infant, in a large metropolitan emergency room makes me giggle to this day.
And that’s it. I’m pretty sure Amy just dropped us off at our dorm and that was that.
This did kick off all the testing that led to my diagnosis of vasovagal syncope. There were all kinds of heart and brain tests (apparently the football player reported that I moved/twitched while passed out, so they assumed I had a seizure. I’m not as convinced), that I went through over the course of months. It was a formative moment of my life.
Here’s the funny thing…
This is not my first time passing out in a cafeteria line
That’s right, your girl has a talent for passing out in cafeteria lines.
Let’s go back even further, to the 5th grade. Once again, I am in the cafeteria line. I am actively getting my food. This time, the person behind me is Mrs. Betz, the Art teacher.
Once again, the full details are fuzzy, but I have a few key moments that I am certain of:
- She caught me as I started to go back, holding me under my arms.
- She then successfully pulled me out of the line, out the back of the cafeteria (a very short time in front of everyone, thank you very much)
- She pulled me to a trash can. I guess she thought I was going to throw up? I remember having enough sense to be like no, I’m not going to throw up get me somewhere to sit down.
- She had to drag me outside, to come right back inside to go to the nurse. The cool air on my face was one of the most refreshing things I can remember.
And then nothing. I don’t even think they did any tests on me, or I even went to the doctor. You see, passing out isn’t the biggest deal in my family. Most of my family members have their stories of passing out, not necessarily in a cafeteria. I have passed out in hospitals, doctor’s offices, bathrooms (woof, this was the only time I actually hit my head and waking up butt naked on the ground is ROUGH), at work, at home, and other people’s houses.
I’ve learned that this isn’t the same for everyone, and that my passing out has become semi-legendary.
“That was you?”
I met one of my dearest friends, Emily, in my sophomore year of college (so after the second chronologically, but first cafeteria incident described in this essay). At some point, much later in our friendship, we were going for a walk and I regaled her of my tale. Hopefully, you can see why I usually get good laughs from it, so it’s one I tell from time to time when it’s relevant.
Emily looks at me with a grave face and asks, “that was you?”
Again, if you remember, the cafeteria I was at was the only one open on campus that day. She was there with some of her roommates and friends. Apparently, they had attached meaning to that and even referenced me at a later date. I was that girl and this felt like the perfect end to this tale.
I want to leave you with a few life lessons from this tale.
- Don’t stand behind me in a cafeteria line if you want to avoid having to catch/take care of me.
- I’m basically famous in some very specific circles.