Collapse
I said this stress was beginning to make me physically ill, the evidence in support of this is now somewhat damning and the possibility of it being psychosomatic no longer remains.
The day before Valentine’s I found myself with the rare opportunity to sleep in. Being somewhat out of practice with the activity I inadvertently slept for 11 hours. I woke up to a call from work, some minor crisis required immediate resolution but thankfully the new VPN access set up by IT allowed me to solve the problem remotely. The delay however put me in danger of losing the hold I had placed on my girlfriend’s Valentine’s Day gift.
Popping a Vitamin C supplement in my mouth I rushed off to the mall. Once there I discovered that my hold had been released due to my lateness and subsequently sold to another customer. I rushed over to the bookstore to find an alternate gift. Thankfully during my hijacking adventure the previous day I had already picked up the little bits so all I needed to find was a new centerpiece.
Book in hand I head to the till. Second in line I figure I’m doing pretty well. The older heavyset fellow in front of me was already paying so it wouldn’t be long.
He was chatting up the poor salesgirl but I wasn’t worried.
Five minutes of him going on about some other book he read I began to get a little impatient.
Ten minutes of discussing vivid imagery and I was very annoyed.
I began to feel warm at the 15 minute mark as he was insisting she read the book.
When I finally got to the till 20 minutes after getting in line I was very dizzy. The universe had become a 10-meter sphere around me, I couldn’t see beyond it and it had developed the nasty habit of tilting 45 degrees in either direction. I tried to make the transaction as efficient as possible but it seems the chatty Cathy disease is communicable.
No, I don’t have a loyalty card. No I don’t want one. No I don’t want to know the benefits. Debit please. Yes I would like a bag. Receipt in the bag is fine.
The salesperson then proceeds to ensure my bag is a perfect rectangle after placing the book and receipt inside it. About to fall over at any moment, I reach across the counter and snatch the bag out of her hand.
“That’s fine, thank you” I say impatiently and head out the store.
“Have a nice day!” she yells after me as if it were critical information I needed to know.
“Yea, whatever, you too, goodbye” I toss over my rapidly retreating shoulder. I see a bench. The universe is about 5 meters across, shrinking quickly. The tilts are now up to 80 degrees. My hand finds the corner of the bench, my fingers starting to feel cold and numb. I manage to lay down on the bench.
Dexterity in my fingers dropping rapidly I manage to get my work phone out of the belt clip. I struggle to compose a text message relaying my situation and location to my girlfriend. It takes all of my mental focus to will my one remaining functional finger to press send. Message sent the phone falls on my chest. My hands useless claws my head falls back onto the cushioned bench.
Before losing consciousness I see the shop girl smiling at me from the bookstore. Blackness descends.
I awake a few moments later to my chest vibrating. I look up and see a 50-something woman and preteen boy staring at me like I was in a zoo or something. Locating the source of the chesticular vibration I remember where my phone landed. My hands now reminding me of numerous Star Trek aliens with 3 or fewer fingers I try to pick up the phone. It’s a balancing act but my brief rest seemed sufficient to restore just enough fine motor control to view the text message from my girlfriend informing me that apple juice is on the way.
I close my eyes for a few moments and then open them to see her approaching, looking rather concerned. By this point I found the whole experience more fascinating than troubling.
It turns out my lips were blue.
But I’m feeling much better now.
