Callapidder Days

I recently mentioned that I had to take my mom to the ER last month (diagnosis: kidney stone).

What I didn’t mention is the fact that while my mom was in considerable pain, I was trying not to pass out. Yes, my mother was getting poked with needles, but I was the one getting light-headed.

I don’t know what it is about doctor’s offices and hospital rooms, but they nearly make me faint, on a fairly regular basis. I don’t even need to be facing any procedures, pain, or predicaments. I just need to be there and all too often, the room starts spinning and I find myself grasping for a chair, hoping to steady myself, reclaim some sense of normalcy, and not hit the floor.

During my mom’s ER visit, it was the nurse’s fault. She was telling my mom that the shot she was about to administer was a pain-killer, but it would produce a major head-rush first. The needle didn’t bother me at all, but just hearing the word “head-rush” made me feel a tad woozy.

Unfortunately, my mom didn’t hear the nurse the first time, so the nurse repeated herself. “You know, a head-rush. It’ll make you real dizzy. Like the room is spinning. But don’t worry, it’ll pass, it’ll pass.”

With each further elaboration on the head-rush concept, I felt myself getting closer and closer to passing out. Yes, I know it’s not logical, but apparently, I was open to the power of suggestion. My mom might get a head-rush from the shot, but I was going to get one without a shot.

My head filled with that thick, muffled rushing sound, and large black spots randomly appeared in my vision.

I reached out with my left hand, performed a death-grip on a nearby chair, and slowly sank to a seated position on the floor. I didn’t care if the floor was dirty; I just needed to be close to it in case I fell over. Inconspicuously, I lowered my head between my knees and took a few deep breaths, trying not to think of words like rush, spinning, or dizzy.

I survived. No passing out.

Mom even told me later that she didn’t notice my sneaky faint-avoidance technique. Of course, she was busy getting dizzy from the pain-killer, so I’m sure she was a bit distracted.

To be honest, I probably can’t blame the nurse. My near-faintings go back to when I was a kid. I remember my pediatrician asking me to walk backward in his office as he checked my left ankle (I’ve had annoying arch-collapsing issues forever). As I took one step after another — backward — across the room, I suddenly knew that if I took one more step, it would be sideways, as I crashed into the wall and passed out.

Then I really and truly passed out the first time I went to the eye doctor’s. They dilated my eyes, I sat in the chair feeling weird…and then I woke up on the floor with the doctor joking, “Thought we lost you there!” Not funny, doc.

As an 8-months-pregnant mom-to-be, I took a tour of our hospital’s birthing center. Yep, you guessed it. As soon as we got in the birthing room, things started going in and out of focus. I made sure I stood close to the bed. Fortunately, I didn’t pass out, but I also didn’t hear a word of the tour.

The good news is, when I really need to be present — when I’ve given birth, or dealt with a child’s major nose-bleed, or visited the ER with one of my kids — I don’t get the least bit dizzy. I transition into some kind of Action Mode wherein I am super-capable of dealing with medical emergencies, medical locations, and medical procedures with strength and clear-headedness.

But if I have too much time to think, or if I am a bystander…look out. Or at least, make sure I’m sitting down or standing near a soft landing spot.

I’d be happy to drive you the ER if you ever need to go. But once we get there, it might be best if I stayed in the car.

Last night did not go according to plan. “Plan” involved folding some laundry, reading, going to sleep, and enjoying 8.5 hours of slumber. Reality did not cooperate.

It all started yesterday morning, when –

Okay, that’s all wrong. It all started last fall, when we had some phone trouble. Our phone line wasn’t working, but the phone company didn’t believe me. Instead, they had me going from room to room, testing every phone jack. No jacks were working, including the one at the phone box outside. Then they said, “Do you have a security system? If so, you need to reset it.”

Based on past experience, I believe the people at our local phone company are usually clueless, but I go along with their suggestions so I can say I fulfilled my end of the bargain. So I went down to the basement, and unplugged the security system. Things went horribly awry.

Sparks flew. Loud noises commenced. I felt a shock and jumped or was propelled backward. Lights throughout the house instantly went out. The outlet became soot-covered, the plug’s prongs became contorted. But I survived.

Chad could better explain what happened, but basically the outlet had a loose metal plate and when I pulled the plug out, contact between the prongs and the metal plate caused a short. Chad — being the relaxed, laid-back person he is, simply squished the prongs back into place, plugged it back in and we went on with our lives.

(Oh, and we were right, by the way — the phone company had done something on their end. But that’s beside the point.)

So yesterday, while some guys were putting new steps in our basement, one of them noticed the blackened outlet and plug, and helpfully unplugged the security system, letting me know that it was a fire hazard. Now, it may very well not be, but I knew he was just trying to be helpful, so I simply said “Thank you” and they left.

However.

Chad was out of town last night. And that’s prime security-system time for me. We live in a very safe neighborhood, but I feel better knowing that loud noises, flashing lights, and subsequently screaming children will confront any potential intruders. So I use it.

I had a dilemma. I could try plugging the system back in, but I had very clear memories of sparks and shocks and backward propulsion and fear. Did I want to try to do that when Chad was not around to call an ambulance for me? Not particularly. Yet if I didn’t, I couldn’t use the security system that night. I talked to Chad on the phone. He assured me that I’d be fine if I plugged it in. He also assured me that no one was going to break in, but I only listened to the first part.

I went downstairs, picked up the plug and stared at the outlet. There’s no plate on it anymore. There’s just the bare outlet, wires, and metal. I put the plug down. I picked it up. I put it down. C. noticed my hesitation and proclaimed that I should not do it. Whatever “it” was.

Suddenly, I had a thought: What if the keypads and alarm noises still worked? Maybe they were wired right into our electrical system. If they were still functional, I could handle that for one night. Maybe the police wouldn’t be summoned by the security company, but the noises, lights, and screaming children would still scare away the bad guys.

I went upstairs and tested them. Yep, they still worked. I set the alarm. I opened doors to test it. The alarm was indeed functional. Solution reached.

The evening went on, children went to bed, I folded laundry, I set the alarm… and I went to bed.

11:30 p.m. — I’m awakened from sleep by the alarm. Because we have accidentally set off the alarm in the past, I am apparently subconsciously programmed to Stop the Beeping Before It Turns into Blaring and Children Hear It and Rise From Their Beds. I leaped from my covers, teleported across the room, and turned off the alarm in 0.716 seconds. Without even realizing it.

Then it hit me.

“What am I, an idiot? Someone just broke into our house and I was kind enough to shut off the alarm for him!”

I listened. I couldn’t hear anyone moving around the house. I looked at our cat to see if her fur was raised. She was grooming her hind quarters in the corner of the room. Because she’s helpful and supportive like that. I stared through the slightly-open bedroom door, watching for any sign of movement on the landing. Someone had to be in our house. Why else would the alarm go off?

“I bet it’s that punk kid who was helping with the stairs. He was just acting nice and helpful. But he knew the security system would be down tonight. He probably cased our house with some friends and then broke in after all the lights had been off for a while. They’re probably downstairs right now, stealing credit card numbers from my purse and planning to take my Mac.”

I thought about the shotgun. I knew I could get to it. I could patrol the house, making click-chink noises with the gun (you know, that intimidating “this-here-gun-is-now-loaded” sound). That would scare them.

[Please note, I realize now, in the bright light of day, that this sounds nuts. But when you've been wakened out of a sound sleep by an alarm that just happens to go off on the one night your security system is down, things seem far, far more sinister.]

In the end, after about 15 minutes of staring at the dark landing while listening to my cat lick her fur, I decided I was too tired to patrol the house with a gun. Instead, I put on my glasses, grabbed the telephone, and climbed back in bed. So much for sinister.

I stared at the keypad across the room. It has a little light on it that blinks whenever it picks up movement downstairs. I’d just watch the light and at the first sign of blinking, I’d call 911.

And that’s how I fell asleep, sometime after midnight. Glasses on. Phone in hand. Thumb on the 9 button.

The phone rang at 6:30, startling me since it was ringing right by my face. The company that is in charge of delivering the flooring material for our basement was wondering when they could stop by.

And they were wondering that at 6:30.

A.M.

I gave up on sleeping and got up.

In case you’re wondering, I found out later that the security system had been running on battery backup, and when that backup was ready to run out, the alarm went off to “alert” me to that fact. It would be nice if they programmed it to “alert” me during normal waking hours, rather than when it’s dark and any normal person might be sleeping, I think. They called me this morning to find out why my system wasn’t communicating with them. I gave them the story and all is well.

There’s no point to this very long and boring blog post, other than to demonstrate that I’m a little bit insane. I grew up without an alarm system. My husband grew up without an alarm system. We have good locks. We live in a safe neighborhood. We have nothing worth stealing. Yet even so — wake me up late at night with an alarm, and I can convince myself of all kinds of horrible things. But clearly not horrible enough to make me leave my bedroom.