The Time I Almost Died Because I Was Horny
I wish I could make these things up, friends.
It’s as reads, ladies, bros and non-binary hos. Depending on whom you ask, this event was dubbed “The Heart Attack”. I also don’t think I was going to die, btw. Maybe pass out. But here we go anyway.
It was a Sunday in January. I was bedridden in hospice, first weekend after surgery, barely able to move my injured leg without feeling like I was shaking a bowl of marbles around. My friends (and family) were around, and it was sunny.
For this story, we need to meet two people; my crush, Teddy (she/her) and my link-turned-friend, Tom (he/him). Tom (bless his sweet heart) was talking to me (about what? Astrology, I think; he recently got deeper into it), and like the exhibitionist he is, decided to talk about sex in a room full of my friends and family.
Let's premise with... I'd lost a lot of blood in the accident a few days back. I'd had surgery after which I failed to keep anything in my stomach down for about 8 hours after that. Anyone who's been through surgery before will know that the first and iron clad rule that they will give you is to not eat 6 - 12 hours before the surgery (or 14 depending on what your doctor says). This, I learned later, is to prevent aspiration and other complications.
Do the math between then and the surgery's end, and I hadn't eaten (and kept down) more than 3 proper meals since Thursday Lunch. It was Sunday afternoon. And someone's child asked a very suggestive question that involved my crush, who thankfully was not in the room at the time.
I've no control, friends. I need people to understand this. And I'm an overthinker. All my blood went south.
In between trying to reign in control of my thoughts, I registered a significant level of effort that was now required to get oxygen from my lungs to my brain. The room started spinning, I started gasping and asked for them to call for the nurse.
My sister took off at a sprint.
Not even two minutes (what felt like 10 minutes) later, the nurse bursts in, asking what the matter was. She took one look at me gasping and fading away, took my pressure using the uninjured leg, and run out. This nurse is one of the people who is most grateful to have the ability (as in moral high ground) to tease me about my "boyfriend".
A few minutes (what felt like seconds) later, my cannula was being hooked up to fresh icy cold AB positive. I was shivering within minutes, but everyone present in that room was grateful that I was shivering and not withering like I'd been a few moments ago.
I haven't really thought about what it must have been like as my friends or family to see me smiling one moment, and then saying, "I can't breathe," while my eyes could barely stay open. That must have been scary for them. We all should get therapy after this.
Teddy later joked that they would ban my "boyfriend" because of the problems he'd caused with his presence in one day of being around. The jokes really do write themselves, sometimes. She now knows the truth, and I hope the guilt of being the reason I almost died releases her one day. If it were any consolation, I wouldn't have gone any other way. Well, maybe betwixt her thighs. That would also be a nice way to go.
Anyways guys... thanks for tuning into my recollection of what was actually quite traumatic now that I think about it. I'm glad I finally put something down, and it flowed. Also, it's hot, guys. 32 degrees is a little excessive, don't you think? My bestie and I think when Melon Husk (or the richest person alive) dies, they should be put in a glass casket in which people can spit. There's tech good enough to keep them from decomposing. Make it a global holiday, we pilgrimage to their casket and spit inside.
I love you, sweetie. If you're reading this.
Otherwiseeee I'll see y'all when I see you.
Until then,
Drink water
Love thy neighbor
And Dance like nobody's watching,