I am not going to lie. It was awful. If the hospital had told me the truth about it from the beginning, I would have been more prepared for that, but because they can’t order anyone to take the test, it can only be voluntary, they lied.
They lied because the tilt table test is torture.
It honestly should be banned from medical procedure.
I had to be there at 6:30 in the morning, so the rascals and I stayed up all night, waiting for six thirty to roll around. We all went together, Jei, Rue, Snookie, and my mother. They put me in the gown, gave me the IV, and then we waited. No family was allowed inside the room at all. Why? Again, because this test is torture. And if any family had been in there, they would have either attacked the hospital staff or been utterly horrified.
When they strapped me to the table I wasn’t too nervous because it was soft and made of velcro and they’d put warm blankets on me and really were just an excellent group of people. They put in the CD I brought with me, which they wouldn’t stop complimenting, so I gave it to them. They also wouldn’t stop thanking me. They tilted the table so I was just slightly pulled back from standing straight on my feet. The blood pooled to my legs and I could feel my feet tingling. No big deal. I was warm, slightly tired, but it passed. We talked about the government and politics. And when nothing happened after a while they gave me nitroglycerin under my tongue. I still felt fine. Then this is where my memory gets foggy. It was really warm. My legs were tingling. I started losing vision. The room started spinning.
“Try to keep your eyes open.” The nurse told me.
I told her I didn’t feel well and that I would like to sit down now.
Then I leaned my head forward to try and vomit. I was breathing hard. I was in a lot of pain. I kept saying, “Ow” and “Please let me sit down now.” I couldn’t move my legs to get the blood flowing to my heart because they were strapped down.
The only bits I remember now are the nurse holding my head to the table and prying my eyes open. I remember drooling and spitting all over myself. And I remember just saying “Please” over and over and over again.
I remember, “Here she goes.”
And then I remember my mother holding my hand and talking to Rue, Tyler, and Jei.
It was awful.
But I am fine now. I have roses and cake.
They have diagnosed me with Neurocardiogenic Syncope, but I think anyone of my height and weight having had nothing to eat for twenty hours and nothing to drink for six, would have passed out. This is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life, as it will come and go. It’s not too uncommon, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if these words reach someone who has it too.
Anyway, it was just awful and I can’t talk about it anymore right now because I have to leave for Tyler’s party.
