Some of you may notice that I did not update my blog yesterday. For most people that might not seem like a big deal. However, I don't know if you've noticed but two entries per day is a slow one for me. And it's not that I didn't have any ideas, far from it. It is just... well, let me explain from the beginning.
Remember how I have a fractured sternum? You know, because I am the smartest person alive and all. Anyway, I have been unable to work since the accident, but now my medical certificate has expired and centrelink has been telling me to get a job. Instead of actually throwing myself back into the workforce, I thought I'd test my strength by doing a volunteer shift at a local op-shop. It was fantastic and I will tell you all about it very soon, but when I found myself in a fair amount of pain after just a few hours of light labour, I figured that I was not ready to go back to real work.
Now, yesterday morning I woke up feeling a bit shit. I was aching from pushing myself too hard yesterday and I was in a bad mood. Vegatrain was kind enough to get me a spinach pastry from the bakery down the road, which I ate a bit too quickly. A funny joke was made and I started laughing.
So, this is the combination of factors that are going on here:
a) fractured sternum, meaning my chest was already kinda sore
b) My heart was beating fast from laughing
c) I got heartburn from eating the pastry too fast
The heartburn would not have been a problem except for the fact that, in a comic twist, I have never actually had heartburn before. Naturally, I thought I was dying. I should probably also add to that list that Meattrain has been watching House lately. Now, I don't watch much TV but I watch enough to know that I am going to die and it is going to be awful. I don't think I have ever got around to watching a full episode of House, but this is what I keep hearing amongst the background noise:
"Patient is fine, normal cold and flu symptoms but nothing... we have a code blue, patient is suddenly and inexplicably bleeding from the eyes and fitting."
So, because I now think that the simplest of symptoms means the worst possible thing is about to happen (hypochondria - totally a disease in its own right), this combination of things - the sore chest, the fast heartbeat, the heartburn - I thought I was totally having a heart attack. Never mind the fact that I am a 5' 1", 22 year old vegetarian female who exercises regularly and so not exactly the most likely candidate for heart failure, I was convinced that I was going to die. According to Vegatrain, I was nearly in tears.
Let me explain something else for you. Recently, I read about Paris Syndrome. My interpretation of this phenomena was that it was a disorder that you get when everything around you is too beautiful for you to handle. My reading about this syndrome coincided with the arrival of my amazing lapdesk which is cushioned and has a drink holder and pen holder and a little light and it fits my laptop on it perfectly with room for a mouse. There was a moment when I was trying out my new lapdesk, there was nice music playing and I was eating grapes. Earlier, I had, shall we say, been drinking some tea. Listening to some jazz music. Talking to my friend.*
Naturally, I got a bit overwhelmed. Everything around me was amazing and I could feel my face flushing. I could feel a bit of the Paris Syndrome coming on. Since then, I have started saying this regularly, whenever anything good happens. I now judge how good something is by how likely it is to give me Paris Syndrome. Vegatrain has been getting very annoyed at my repeated insistence that I have a medical condition that I basically made up.
But then the events of yesterday occurred and I was lying on the couch, having a mild anxiety attack. Vegatrain came and sat with me.
"Smackie, you're not dying. You just ate a delicious pastry a bit too fast, laughed too hard at a joke and got a bit overwhelmed. That's all. I guess you could say that in all your insistence that you have this stupid made up Paris Syndrome, you actually kinda gave it to yourself. You just need to learn how to not get so worked up over these things."
It was then that I stopped to evaluate my situation. I had invented a disorder that was based on a joke, gone on to actually get symptoms of the disorder under farcical circumstances and was now being given my daily life lesson. I was in a fucking sitcom. I would wager that this is actually a plot that has been used and if not, why not? I could hear the damn theme music in my head.
When I realised this, I did tell Vegatrain that it was giving me a touch of the Paris Syndrome, but jokes! And we hugged and moved onto the next wacky adventure.
*Rejected: "burying some bones in the backyard". There is nothing good that can mean.