|This almost-exact scenario happened, except the dude in the jacket was my coworker (who was also dutifully holding up a Puke Pail for me) and the lady behind the curtain was a team of paramedics.|
I will spare you all the gory details of my little "episode", but I will say, Readers, that throughout the whole humiliating ordeal I learned just how much I appreciate and care for my coworkers. I was very well taken care of while I was "out", and once I came to I was guided to an empty conference room where I sat in a zombie-like state until the paramedics showed up to make sure that I wasn't dying.
I had a supervisor on one side, asking me the usual battery of "OMG are you alright?" questions: if these "fainting spells" have happened before, if there was any chance I was pregnant, if I had eaten that day, and so on and so forth. My other supervisor was on my other side, cracking "You think THAT's bad?" remarks which, in all honestly, brought me a lot of comfort as I had just lived through one of my worst nightmares.
Once the paramedics were satisfied that there was nothing wrong with my heart or lungs (and that I didn't hurt myself too badly when I fell), I curled up and slept in our offices' "sick room" until my fiance could come and take me home (they didn't want me going home by myself). We were going to call a cab, but because it would have taken about an hour, one of our head administrators gave us both a ride to my apartment.
Readers, when one of your upper-level managers will gladly drive you, a lowly receptionist, home because a cab would take too long, you know you're working in a good environment. Plus, by the time I got home, a bouquet of hand-tied multicolored roses was waiting for me at my door, sent by my co-workers.
John took me to urgent care where they basically told me that I was severely dehydrated and that I need to eat more. I can't help but hang my head a bit in shame; it's true that I have been dieting to lose a little weight before the wedding day...and I'm ashamed to say that before my fainting spell, I had not eaten all day, not necessarily because I thought I was fat, but because I was so overwhelmed with the wedding coming up that I literally forgot to eat.
John, once again, has proved himself to be the best almost-husband ever. He drove me to and from urgent care, he set up a little "nest" for me on my couch, he fed me Popsicles, he set his iPhone timer for the doctor's "fluid intake schedule" ("Hon, it's been an hour. Drink another glass.") and played Mario Kart with me until the color returned to my lips (apparently, while I was "out", my lips were the same color as my forehead. That's terrifying).
What have I learned from this ordeal? That: 1. I know I can fully count on those I care about to catch me as I'm falling (literally!), 2. That I will never, EVER let myself go that long without eating or drinking ever again, and 3. That God has provided me, yet again, with the miracles that are my friends and loved ones.
Drink lots of water, Readers! Until next time!