Diarrhea

I grew up in a fairly formal environment where unseemly topics such as diarrhea were not spoken. One simply does not discuss diarrhea in polite company. Even though we all battled it on occasion, no one ever spoke of it. It was just one of those taboos.

My girlfriend, however, did not grow up in such an environment. Bodily functions are apparently suppertime conversation topics in her family. "What's the big deal?" she says. "Everyone has it from time to time!"

I had some food poisoning over the weekend. At least, I think it was food poisoning. It may have been some kind of stomach virus. Anyhow, it kicked my ass. As such an infliction would insinuate, I woke up several times in the middle of the night with chunks flying from both ends. It was ugly. I was in agony. I slept most of the next day, as my girlfriend worked on unpacking in her (someday our?) new house. From time to time, I would hear her in the other room on the phone with friends, discussing my physical health.

I swore I heard her tell at least FIVE people (some that I hardly know) about my vicious diarrhea.

I was appalled. Humilated. Not only does my girlfriend know about my horrible tummy problems, but so do half her friends? Before her, I've never even told someone I'm dating that I've even had so much as bowel movement, much less had them and their social circle be privy to the details of my gastro-intestinal eruptions!

If I weren't already dying from stomach cramps, I would have died again.

So Monday rolls around, and I thought I could handle getting up and going to school. When I awoke, the gurgling in my abdomen made me realize differently. I called in sick and spent the day alternately sleeping and darting to the potty.

Also on Monday, the principal of my school stopped by to see my girlfriend as she taught class. They chatted, and he inquired as to my absence.

And she told him about my diarrhea.

But at least she told the principal not to tell me he knew about my diarrhea, because I would be embarrassed.

Thanks, honey, for that tidbit of consideration. I feel so much better about it all now...

The airhead in me strikes again...

So yesterday after school, I ran some errands, including going to the grocery store (twice) and then met my girlfriend (henceforth TPL) and some of her friends for dinner. As I was leaving, I realized that I needed a few more things from the grocery store... I had forgotten to get any beverages: I was completely out of water and Dr. Pepper at Xanadu.

I made a rapid trip through the store, picking up lots of Dr. Pepper, some Fresca, and a flat of water. I quickly paid, and rushed out to my car to put everything in the trunk so I could get home and shower and put on my jammies before TPL came over.

As I started to load everything in the car, I set my purse and keys on the floor of the trunk, and shifted over the nine heavy boxes from the cart. As I put in the last twelve pack, I instinctively slammed the trunk shut.

With my purse and keys safely inside.

I did the little "oh dammit" dance, and pulled desperately at the purse strap dangling out the side of the trunk, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I pulled hard enough, the trunk would magically spring open and I wouldn't have to figure a way out of this mess.

Didn't happen.

I wandered sheepishly inside the grocery store and found a manager, telling her what I did and asking her if I could borrow their phone. By the grace of god, I actually remembered some phone numbers, which I rarely do. (Who remembers phone numbers anymore?) I called my girlfriend and let her know how stupid I had been, and she said she would come get me shortly. I also managed to remember 40's number, and had to admit to her as well how stupid I was so she would leave the door unlocked for me.

I went outside and waited. A storm had recently blown through H-town, bringing with it a blast of cold weather. (Finally! I'm so sick of this 85 degrees on mid-November crap...) Not only was it suddenly quite chilly, it was also startlingly windy. I decided I couldn't just sit there shivering and and not even try to get into my car, so again wandered inside to find the manager to see if she knew where I could find a coat hanger. She pointed me to a rack of t-shirts and told me to help myself. Unfortunately, the rack only held plastic hangers, not wire ones, and would therefore not going to do a damn bit of good.

As I dejectedly puttered back toward the door, I saw some wire handled fly-swatters sitting in a box for 89c each. I decided that the flyswatter handle would make a decent jimmying tool, and as I contemplated the 15 cents I happened to have in my pocket, I wondered if I would get busted for stealing a flyswatter. Deciding not to risk it, I convinced the manager to let me owe the Kroger corporation 89 cents (plus tax), and walked back out to my car with my treasure.

So Toyotas are built pretty well, and I had difficulty even getting the coat hanger through the window frame. Eventually I did, but in the process, I had an exceptionally active audience. The first spectator was a young mother who soothed me with, "Oh honey, that's nothing. I once locked my purse, keys, and toddler in my car." (ack!) Next was a pair of Jamaican men who told me that mine was an exercise in futility. They helped me bend the wire handle into just the right angle, and then wished me luck as they drove away laughing.

After about 45 minutes of mangling and cursing and hoping my girlfriend would get there SOON, a postal worker got out of his truck and immediately diverted his route from the entrance of the store towards me and my Solara. He looked at my finagled wire, and at me, and then said, "Hold on. This is easy. I've got this under control." I didn't know whether to be thankful or terrified. He darted back and forth to his truck a few times and brought back some tools and played around with my window for quite a while before he realized that he didn't have the proper equipment. He offered to drive home and get it, and then come back to help me break into my car. He was convinced that 100%, he'd get me in my car.

By this time, TPL had come to my rescue, and I was ready to head home, leaving my car there over night. I would simply come back in morning with my extra key. I really didn't want to wait around for this man to come back with his car-breaking-into-supplies, but TPL brought up a very good argument. If I leave, and this man is of less than upstanding character, it would be way too easy for him to break into my car ANYWAYS. I was a perfect target.

We decided to wait for a few minutes, and reliably, my postal worker friend returned with a length of thick yellow cable. And I'm thinking, "This is your foolproof plan?" We let him play with the window in vain for about 10 more minutes before thanking him profusely for his assistance. He apologized for not being able to help, and then finally made his way into the store.

I climbed, whimpering, into TPL's car, knowing that I am, without a doubt, the biggest airhead of all time, and knowing, without a doubt, that I'm going to be hearing about this for a very loooong time.


And thankfully, my car was still there this morning.

Anatomy of a Panic Attack

I feel my chest pounding... it's like something really exciting is happening, but not in a good way. I can hear and feel my heart beating, racing in my ears and face, and it feels like my blood is starting to slam into my eardrums and cheekbones and ribs.

The pounding gets worse. I cover my chest with my hand because my heart is beating so hard that I'm afraid if I don't, my heart might literally leap out of my chest cavity and jump away...

As I wonder how to control the pounding in my chest, my throat starts to close. My trachea seems to shrink to one-tenth its typical diameter as I start gasping for breath, never able to get enough air in my lungs. I feel like I've been swimming forever underwater, and I just came up for air, but I can't seem to fill my lungs.

So I breathe hard. And then harder. And no matter how hard or fast I breathe, I can't seem to get enough oxygen to my brain to make the drowning feeling stop.

People are talking. What are they saying? I think they're talking to me, but I can't tell. Something about slowing down. Slowing down what? Why can't I breathe? Am I having a heart attack? My chest hurts so badly. I must be having a heart attack.

I'm shaking. My muscles are aching, my stomach is churning; I hurt all over. I feel like I'm going to vomit. Why can't I breathe? I need to get air into my lungs. I have to breathe harder. Harder... That must be the answer...

The room is spinning. My body is in tremors. Is someone talking to me? Who is that? Why do they keep saying the same things over and over? What do they MEAN deep breaths? I AM taking deep breaths... aren't I? My breaths aren't working... There's just no air!

Am I walking? Am I sitting? Where am I? Who is that? What on earth is going on? Why can't I breathe? Why is there no air? Why do I hurt so badly?

Darkness.

My body takes over. Thank god for my medulla oblongata...