I sit at a computer every day. I really should go to the gym more (read, I should go to the gym, because I don’t). I drink lots of coffee and soda, and not a lot of water.
Monday was a normalish day. I felt queasy, but I attributed that to a ton of stress I’ve had over the last few months: a lot is going down. So, me feeling a bit queasy wasn’t the worst thing. I dealt with it and left work a little early to pick up my son from school. I went home, had a family dinner, and started coding up some stuff.
Not even before midnight, the legendary puking began. It lasted all night. It sucked. My son had nightmares and instead of being able to console him, I prayed to the porcelain gods. I messaged my boss that I wasn’t going to work. I had nightmares.
I wake up
The sound of a little boy telling me to get up, he wants waffles. Two year olds are adorable. I climb out of bed, fighting off the morning grog and follow him to the kitchen to start getting ready for the day. Only, I can’t figure out what day it was. Why can’t I shake this grog? I stop what I’m doing … what am I doing? Was I making dinner? It’s dark outside, maybe I should make a midnight snack. Yes, that sounds good. Peanut butter sandwich. My son wants cereal. Why is he here? I’m going back to bed.
I stumble back to bed, crawling under the warm blankets. My wife is talking to me, but I can’t understand her, this must be a dream. I go back to sleep.
I wake up.
I need a shower, I’m soaked. I get up and instantly realize I got out of bed too fast. I figure it will pass, like it always does. I go to the bathroom and turn on the shower as the darkness continues to close on me… this is weird.
I wake up.
I’m on the floor of my bathroom. This is weird. Why am I here? I was … I was turning on the shower, I was getting a shower, the water is running? Did I fall asleep? Did I pass out? Why. This is weird. I’ll stand up. I’m standing, I’m blacking out again. Sit down. Sit down! Ok. Now what? This is not normal. No, this is probably bad. I should go to the hospital. I could drive. That’s a terrible idea, I can’t even stand up. Where the hell is my phone? Beside the bed? Only one way to find out. Stand up. Walk. Walk faster so I don’t volunteer to sleep on the floor. Would that actually be volunteering? Could that count as community hours in a court of law? Walk faster. Warm sheets. Oh no! These are cold sheets. I’ve been gone that long? Why is everything so complicated right now? I should call 911, yeah, that’s a good idea. Rob, I think that’s the best idea you’ve had in your entire life! I’m going to feel so stupid **9** if this is normal. What comes after 9? 10? no. **9** Why the hell would this be normal. It’s 911, not 99 … right? yeah. **<-** **1** **1** ok … she wants to know my address. That’s smart, so in case something happens to me, like I pass out again, they can find me. Where am I? Oh yeah, I live here. *I tell her my address* Wait, did I pass out earlier? She wants to know my problem … hmmm, lets start with the throwing up, then tell her that something is not normal. Well, yeah, my brain is not processing shit like normal. This is not normal.
Shit. She needs me to unlock my front door so people can get in here. The door is really far away. Nah, it’s just a little walk, can’t you take a little walk? You used to *run* 6 miles a day, and run two miles in under 15 minutes, I think you can take a little walk. Shut up. I can do this. Go. Walk faster. I know you can barely see, just do it. You’ve done this a hundred times, you don’t need to see. The couch is right about here. Good job. It would have really sucked if you missed the couch. Oh shit. Why is my left arm tingly? Am I having a fucking heart attack now? No, because my right arm is tingly too. When did I become a damn specialist on correlations between tingliness and heart attacks. This lady on the phone is nice. Oh good, people are here… I wonder if they want coffee?