Swoony McFainty

I was just filling out paperwork for our upcoming appointment with a new dentist. I always hate it when you get to the part on medical forms where you have to check which horrific health problems you have, like glaucoma or gangrene or HIV. Luckily the box I'm concerned with comes right at the front and I can avoid most of that awful list. See, I'm obliged to check the fainting box. I'm a fainter.

I've always been squeamish, but I didn't actually faint until I was 13. I remember the first time I woke up on the floor after having blacked out: how did I get here? How long have I been out? What just happened? I was alone and it took me a while to figure out that I had actually fainted (I thought only ladies in old fashioned books and movies fainted, but nope, I do, too!). That was the first of many. It doesn't happen every day or anything (I bet I've passed out between 10 to 15 in my life). But still, it has happened often enough!

The scariest was when I fainted during a dental procedure. I was greeted with panic-stricken looks from my mother and the oral surgeon when I woke up. They were shaking me and screaming my name. The award for most embarrassing goes to the time I came to and saw every member of my sophomore biology class standing over me with expressions ranging from absolute horror to extreme amusement. Turning on my side, I found myself in the arms of my biology teacher, who gallantly dove across lab tables and metal stools to save me from banging my head on the floor. It would have been super romantic had he been 87 years younger and about two feet taller. Instead it was just kind of awkward.

Yes, I've passed out in classrooms, bathrooms, doctor's offices, my own living room (I should have been more careful to avoid gore-fests like The Joy Luck Club with my condition). I've even fainted in a garage. The recipe for a full on swoon can include illness, big needles, a skipped meal or extreme fatigue but the key ingredient, the one that really makes the magic happen, is always blood in one form or another. Knowing this has helped me keep fainting to a minimum in recent years. I am pleased to say that I haven't fainted since 2003 (that was the garage incident after I got my wisdom teeth out.). And I am extremely proud of the fact that I never ONCE fainted during childbirth, which was something I was afraid of doing ever since this crazy condition emerged. Thankfully being the person giving birth is WAY less gory than watching The Miracle of Life in biology class. I know the symptoms so well now--the spinning head, the clammy feeling moving from my forehead to my fingertips and the cold sweat that forms on my upper lip are all dead giveaways to what it about to happen. The old head between the knees trick really does work if I can do it in time.

Still, I worry about performing well during emergencies. When I was about 17, my dad mowed the lawn barefoot (I know; he really is a smart man, though. He went to Yale!). Let's just say his big toe almost didn't survive that decision. He ran in the door screaming and I was first on the scene. As you can imagine, I couldn't offer a lot of assistance after I fell to the floor. He had to yell for my mom to help us both. Now that I'm responsible for a couple of wobbly toddlers, I know I'm one sliced forehead or busted lip away from blowing my five year milestone.

After a nurse drawing my blood totally chewed me out ("You should have warned me that you faint!" she yelled as I came to), I've done my due diligence and reported my proclivity for losing consciousness to all my healthcare providers. Hence the checked box on my dental form. Still, I'm the only person I know of that actually CHECKS that box. Well, me and Scarlett O'Hara.