What happens in Vagas?

When Ann and I first moved in together, she got very ill. Queasy, in a lot of pain, and unable to move. (No, it wasn't because I moved in!) At the time we thought she'd injured her back so we made an appointment to see the doctor the next day. During the night, she got up to go to the bathroom and the next thing I knew she was passed out on the bathroom floor. After a long and bizarre visit to the ER, she was diagnosed with shingles and the passing out was her vagal or vagas response to pain.

A one time deal? Not quite.

Yesterday, I left work early to pick Ann up from her school because she'd somehow injured her shoulder. We went straight to the doctor who diagnosed a "rotator cuff" injury, the severity of which cannot be determined quite yet. I brought her back home, laid her on the couch with an ice pack and liquids, and then took Rubin to his dog obedience class. When I got home, Ann was already in bed, but awake enough to tell me her shoulder pain was excruciating and that she had the chills.

She slept well, but this morning woke a bit groggy, sat down for her coffee and then announced she felt queasy. I should have seen it coming, but not until she started shaking, not until her eyes rolled back and fully dilated, not until she went rigid did I realize what was happening.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," was my response and then I placed my hand behind her neck and lowered her to the floor where she lay unconscious. Rubin barked at me. When I ran to get the phone, Rubin chased after me and barked frantically some more. I called 911, told them our address and explained that "my partner was having a seizure." In the middle of the call, Ann regained consciousness and Rubin licked her face.

The EMT's and firefighters arrived within minutes and Rubin barked protectively while they asked us questions.

"Are you on any medications?"
"Has this ever happened before?"
"Do you know where you are?"
"Are you still nauseated?"

By the time they left, she was fully conscious and ready to pile into our car for a POV trip -- EMT terminology for Privately Owned Vehicle. At the ER, they ran tests, but as far as they are concerned, Ann is as fit as a fiddle. The only caution is her very low blood pressure, which gives her little room for error, as they said. This means that when her blood pressure drops in response to pain (which apparently everyone's does) her body goes into this "need to be horizontal" to stabilize her blood pressure.

Jesus...why can't she just say "ouch?" Why must she pass out in a mock seizure?

Has this happened before the ER doctor asked? Why I guess it has back when Ann had that painful bout with shingles.

"I guess I have a low tolerance for pain," Ann said sheepishly from her ER bed.

"No shit," was my only response.

The doctor laughed.

Ann's resting comfortably upstairs, pissed as hell that she must limit her activity this summer as she heals her shoulder, but thankful she did not have a seizure as I had feared.

"Kind of let down, isn't it? 'I fainted' just doesn't seem as dramatic as 'I had a seizure.'"

But maybe it's a good thing because now she's taking this shoulder injury a bit more seriously than she was yesterday.

I even surprised myself knowing exactly what to do by laying her down, moving furniture away and calling 911.

"How did you lift me?" Ann asked.

"I haven't a clue. I can't even remember the weight of you. I just knew I had to cradle your neck and head and not twist your shoulder. Before I knew it, you were on the kitchen floor and I had the phone in my hand."

Ann used to lord over me her incredibly "healthy" blood pressure numbers since my blood pressure is "under watch." No more lording now, but lots of great puns..."what happens in vagas, stays in vagas!"