Friday, 23 January 2015


I'm going to tell you a story about being ill. It is quite possibly a huge over share but it's also possibly quite funny and so I'm happy to embarrass myself in the hope of getting a titter or two. Let's begin.

I'm still having problems with my skin and the antibiotics I was given have made me quite sick. I had plans to visit the new Cat Cafe in Edinburgh on Tuesday but instead I spent the day lying on my floor trying to quell my nausea. This is a little bit more dramatic than it seems because I have a thing called Vasovagal Syncope which is basically when your body overreacts to certain triggers resulting in a rapid drop in blood pressure causing a loss of consciousness. It's the same thing that causes people to pass out when they see blood or do a poo (honestly that's one of the most common triggers!!). My trigger is feeling sick. So what should be a minor case of nausea becomes a little bit more stressful and dramatic as I just keep collapsing every time a wave of sickness hits. It's a little bit serious but it's also (in hindsight) quite tragically funny. Which is why I'm going to tell you about it.

One of the tasks I've been putting off for ages and promised myself that I'd do on Tuesday was taking the car to get the tyres changed. Although I felt nauseous in the morning, it had seemed to disappear by lunchtime so I confidently got dressed and nipped the car round to the garage. Bad move. Whilst I was there waiting on the car, the waves of sickness started to come over me. Crap. I was going to pass out on the cold, dirty, tiled floor of the garage office.

I put my head between my legs and breathed heavily. I could feel the three mechanics looking at me like I might be a little bit mad. None of them asked if I was okay. I feel that it's appropriate to point out for their sake and for anyone else who might be wondering - if someone puts their head between their legs and starts breathing heavily and saying 'it's okay, it's okay' to themselves repeatedly, then they're probably not okay and you should offer help instead of just ignoring them. I was about one second away from telling them 'don't be alarmed but I'm just going to lie down on the floor for a minute' when the feeling passed. The car had its new tyres fitted and I drove back to my house, which in hindsight was a dick move but I couldn't quite bring myself to tell the men who hadn't offered me any help that I was in need of some.

I was supposed to be meeting my friend at 2.20pm to walk to the Cat Cafe. It was 2.19pm. I called her, hoping that she hadn't left the house and I could cancel. She had left. I told her that I wasn't up to going out but she could come up for a cup of tea if she wanted. She agreed. I'm sure she regrets that decision now.

While waiting for her to arrive I had a little lie down on the floor to sort myself out. 'You're okay, you're okay' I told myself confidently (it's my mantra). My friend arrived at my flat and I made her a cup of tea. I don't remember what we talked about or how long she was here. I only remember the fact that during the midst of our conversation I dived onto the floor on two occasions shouting 'Oh shit, I'm going to faint!' I didn't faint though so instead I just looked like a little bit of an idiot. It's a good thing I'm not easily embarrassed.

She had to leave because she had work to finish off (or more likely was terrified by my strange behaviour). 'Is there anything I can do for you before I go?' she asked.

'Ryan.' I whimpered feebly, looking up at her from my spot on the floor.

I'm not entirely sure why she had to call Ryan, given that my phone was right next to me. It seemed more dramatic I think and that's how I like to play things. Within five minutes, Ryan had called my mobile.

'I'll just come home' he suggested.

'No, No don't. Honestly, I'm fine. I just maybe wanted to see if you could get away a wee bit early, like 5 o clock just so I know that I'll see you soon' I said. Meanwhile in my head: please come home, please come home, please come home, please come home, please come home, please, please, please.

'I'm coming home' he said. Me: thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.

I passed out once while Ryan was on his way home so when he arrived I was lying on our living room floor shivering and looking as pathetic and feeble as it is possible for a person to look. I didn't really have much energy to talk so I just pushed the basin of sick towards him. 'Empty please?' I asked, returning my head to the floor. I stayed there for approximately another two hours before I worked up the courage to try to move myself to the settee. The exertion was too much for me and I passed out again.

When I came round I could hear Ryan telling me it was okay while I screamed at the top of my lungs. The unconscious screaming makes the whole process a lot more fun for everyone involved. Ryan thinks that he'll probably have to answer the door to police officers one day and explain that no, I haven't been murdered or beaten. Just had a little faint. I'm not sure they'll believe him.

After that incident, I started to feel a little better and by about 10pm I was sitting up and back to my normal, annoying self. I had to call in sick for work on the one day of that week that I was actually supposed to be working. Not cool. However, probably more sensible than running the risk of collapsing and screaming like a banshee in front of all my work colleagues.

I've also had some sad family news this week, things are still unfinished on the job front and I burned myself while cooking a Quorn burger so it hasn't been a great week to be honest. I'm looking forward to next week which I'm hoping will be slightly less dramatic.

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