7... 8... no 7... Somewhere between 7 and 8 Things That Make Me Faint

Ever since I was young, I've had this problem... with fainting. I mean it's not that big of a deal... It's not like I faint left and right with no reason at all... but I get a lot of crap from my family for fainting for "stupid" reasons. It's gotten to the point where if I faint before unsuspecting victims who fretfully inform my sister of the incident... she just laughs. Nothing new.

Anyway, here are a few incidents where I have been known to faint. (WARNING: Reader's Discretion Advised! The following stories are not for the weak stomached. These are not your typical "Oh, one day I got heat stroke and fainted" type stories.)

The daycare I used to go to had a few different rooms for the different age levels of kids. Oh! how I longed to be art of the "big kid" group. They had the largest room and the best toys! It seemed like they got to do whatever they wanted when they wanted. To make matters worse, my friend Chelsea, who was a few months older, was allowed to enter the "big kid" area before me. After begging... probably quite a bit... the daycare "teachers" let me have a trial-run in the "big kid" area... just to see how I'd handle the older kids and the energized environment.

Yes! I couldn't wait! My chance to show the adults that I truly was a "big kid!" Well, things didn't go quite as planned. After being shown around the new area, I was brought outside to observe some of the activities going on on the playground. One of the adult ladies carried me over to a group of kids painting a mural on a large sheet of paper.

To my dismay... one kid thought it would be a good idea to use of a lot of RED! I couldn't help but stare... Suddenly my vision clouded over as REDRUM! REDRUM! flashed through my brain (ok, maybe the REDRUM part isn't true). Next thing I know, I'm sitting over one of the toilets with a blanket around my shoulders gagging into the white porcelain of glory. Yep... you have it... red PAINT got me the first time. Needless to say, I wasn't allowed to spend my time in the "big kid" area for a few more months since I couldn't handle the stress.

But that wasn't the last time I'd experience such horror. My sister and I often took advantage of the outdoors as our playground when we were little. Running up the bluffs, riding our bikes through mud puddles in the driveway, stomping on those mushrooms that puff out smoke when they dry up... stuff like that. But one day, our adventures, whatever we chose to do that day, ended in reenactment of the first horror story.

Somehow, some way, I got a sliver that fateful day. I ran inside wailing, not wanting this alienated object in my body. I didn't like the look of a grey streak on my finger, and I definitely like the though of it getting infected, like I heard could happen. I knew the inevitable would come, and why not sooner than later? Get it over with. Let's just rip off the band aid as fast as possible.

My dad pulled out a pair of tweezers and sat me down. My mom sat by my side for comfort... moral support. I don't remember much of what happened next... because I was going in and out of consciousness as my dad poked and prodded the tweezers at my sore fingers. Yes, I was fainting... over... and over again as my dad attempted to pull out... a sliver.

I think now, lucky him, half the time I was unconscious, so he didn't have to deal with me kicking and screaming... Eventually he got the little bugger out and I sprung up from my spot with tear-stained cheeks, ready to go on another little outdoors adventure.

I'll try to keep this one short and sweet:
One morning in 2nd grade... before the Pledge of Allegiance and our milk break, I noticed something in my mouth, and it's wasn't food. I reach my little (and probably grubby, seeing as I was 7) fingers into my mouth and discover that I had lost a tooth... one little but blooooody tooth. I show my teacher and she lets me go to the bathroom to wash my mouth.

When I return, everyone stands up to say the Pledge. I look at the red and white stripes of the flag. Didn't the white sure contrast the red, making it stand out a little more than usual? Apparently so... because I remember the flag slowly fading away as my vision became that of an out-of-focus television.

MRS. CLARK! MRS. CLARK!
I wake up to my second grade teacher over me, shouting for the first grade teacher in the next room. I had once again fainted. Luckily the boy who would have been behind during the pledge wasn't present at the time... it was his turn to retrieve the milk. Otherwise I would have fallen straight back on him.

Let's get you the HPV shot so you don't die! Why sure, Mother, sounds like a splendid idea!
Or not...
I'm called into the room (mind you I'm a little older now... 7th...8th... 9th grade, maybe?) and asked to lay on the weird table/bed/seat thing. Well, I wasn't asked to lay down. I insisted because by now, I knew the sorts of situations that may or may not... well, you know.
Ok, this might hurt a little. The nurse says. He did it all wrong. All wrong! I wholly blame him this time. First, as soon as... and I mean PERFECT TIMING... as soon as he popped the cap off the needle, I heard a buzzing sound coming from the same area. What!? The HPV shot is a vibrating shot?! What!? I panicked. What is that sound?! I asked. He told me to calm down and lay back down. What is that sound!? I insisted. It's my pager. He replied. Thank goodness... a normal shot... not a vibrating shot.
Second, he counted to three... 1...2...3... Um... if you're going to count to 3.... don't stick the needle in at 3... stick it in at 1... or 2... not 3.
And finally... as he was injecting the shot into my already tensed arm, he kept repeating: It's hurting... it's hurting... it's hurting... aaaaaannndd done!
I just wanted out of the room, but by the end of the ordeal, my body was under so much stress that I ended up hunched over in one of the waiting room chairs as my mom and the nurse patiently told me to take it easy and drink a lot of water... (Or not get shots... I thought.)

Almost done... I swear.
I had my ears pierced when I was 6 (I think... somewhere in the ballpark anyway), but I didn't like the idea of changing my own earrings, so they eventually closed back up. But when I was older, I noticed all the pretty earrings the girls at school wore, so for my birthday, I decided to get them pierced again. This time I did it at my hair salon (instead of the mall). And instead of both my ears being done at the same time, the lady did them one at a time. No big deal... I'm a big girl now. The first one went smoothly... just a little pain. The second... whoah... wait a second! I feel the lobe of my ear being jiggled back and forth... the little piercing device jammed and the lady didn't know how to fix it, except by wiggling it back and forth. The pain and discomfort it caused led me to... well... all I remember is waking up, hunched over in the chair with a little paper cup of water in my hand. Presumably, I fainted... again.

College... why not!? This was entirely my own fault. I woke up one morning and decided that it would be easier to jump sideways off the ladder of my lofted bed instead of straight down, for fear of stepping on some of my possessions... if only I head cleaned up after myself a little more, this whole thing could have been avoided.

Well, to nobody's surprise I lost my balance and smacked my temple (of all places!) on the corner (of all places) of my roommate's (also lofted) bed. I immediately dropped to the floor in pain, stars in my eyes, and feeling like I had to throw up.

I didn't exactly pass out this time... but I was really close. I started to feel better (after not being able to breath and getting extremely flushed for a few moments) and decided that I was well enough to take a shower. But halfway down the hall, I the stars reappeared in my vision and I ran to my favorite shower (let me note here that I woke up 5 minutes early that morning at 5:55 just so I could get my favorite shower because another girl in a different wing woke up at 6 every morning and beat me to it). I laid my towel down on the ground and put my head between my legs hoping not to die alone in the shower. Eventually I felt better and was able to shower without any more mishaps, but I was pretty sleepy the rest of the day. (Minor concussion? Maybe...)

Oh, I didn't mention my roommate's concern. There was none. She didn't wake up at all through the incident.

Last one! I promise!
So this past winter I went to a new eye doctor (big mistake by the way!). They wanted to dilate (ooooops, spelled it wrong in the picture! teehee) my eyes, but I had never had it done before, so it was a little strange to me. The lady put the drops in my eyes and the usual signs of passing out started to occur. This time I was able to warn her so she didn't stab the stupid eye-looker machine into my eyes, permanently blinding me.

A few moments later, she woke me up and informed me that I had been out for two minutes. She then got me a little paper cup of water (sound familiar), but this lady wasn't so patient. It was almost time for her to go home and she had another appointment (my sister) after me. Do you want to get up and go to the next room? NO LADY! I WAS OUT COLD AND MY LIMBS FEEL LIKE IRON AND I'M SWEATING AND THIRSTY AND IF I STAND I'LL FALL OVER AND I CAN'T SEE BECAUSE MY EYES ARE DILATED! But thanks for the suggestion. I lay sprawled out on the reclined seat for a while longer until I mustered the strength to move.

Little did I know that this sort of things was funny and weird and fainting while having your eyes dilated is just utterly ridiculous.



***I've also fainted because of the flu and after waking up from anesthesia, but I wont' tell those stories.***