Today, May 19, 2011, history is being made. I am teaching my very first, full hour, getting paid for, Zumba class. I'm subbing for Alex Higueros at the Sanctuary Ministry. I am on and off, freaking out. I've been to the potty three times already this morning with, you know, the D word. Although, I don't know if that's from panicking or from the five servings of Ahi Poke I ate yesterday.
Anyway, all the panicking and deep breathing reminds me of one fine day back in May of 2001. It started on the Friday night before Mother's Day that year. A bunch of girlfriends decided to have a good old fashioned slumber party. Wendy was our lovely hostess and her husband, Gregg, was playing Cabana Boy. Any drink we wanted, any time. We played with Barbies. Actually, we dressed them as our "Inner Barbie". LOL! Gregg was pulling out all the stops with his bartender/Cabana Boy skills. The last drink (of about...oh....25) I remember was a Chocolate Martini.

Then it happened. The room started spinning. Violently. I started puking out my guts. I puked in the backyard. I puked in the room above. I puked in the bathroom. Puke. Puke. Puke. When Wendy and Gregg moved out of that house a few years later, they were still finding puke chunks.
I also vaguely remember being peer pressured into taking a hit off of a cigarette.
So Saturday morning I wake up. I drag myself to the car and drive home. I say hello to my Honey Bunch and tell him I'm going to lie down for a while before I have to take the kids to Alena's birthday party. He's about to go to the mall because it's the day before Mother's Day. He tells me I don't look very well and am I sure I'm alright. I say I'm fine. Just had a little too much to drink (UNDERSTATEMENT.)
So he goes off to the mall. I get up, gather Nic and Nat (5 and 3 at the time) to go to the birthday party. I load them into Silky. I'm driving down Clayton Road and I really start feeling terrible. I'm by Fire Station 8 and I decide I am not going to make it to the party. I want to turn around and go home before I pass out in the middle of Clayton Road and someone kidnaps my babies while I'm unconscious. I call Audrey and tell her I'm not feeling well and that we are not going to make it to the party. I make a u-turn and head back home. Around McDonald's, I seriously think I'm going to pass out. I pull into the lot and wait a few minutes. I'm OK so I start again.
As I near K-Mart, my hands are starting to stiffen and I can't grip the steering wheel. I say to the kids, "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to pull over and call 911. Everything is OK though, just sit there quietly, OK?" They're like, "OK, Mama." I can't believe how calm I am. So I pull out my phone while my hands are stuck in this position.
It's one of these phones, but it had a keyboard protector that you have to flip open before you can dial. Imagine you are trying to open it and dial with oven mitts on. That's what it was like.

My hands are getting stiffer, panic is setting in. I manage to dial 911 just before pulling into the K-Mart lot and when I begin to talk, I can't. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! I MUST BE HAVING A STROKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Through lips and voice and hands that won't work, I manage to tell the dispatcher that I think I'm having a stroke, where I am and that my two little guys are in the back seat.
They got there in seconds, since they're across the street. I should have just driven in there. Fire Engine 8 and an ambulance are on the scene. Curious onlookers are starting to gather. One of the guys takes my vitals. I tell him I think I'm having a stroke. One of the other guys takes Nic and Nat for a tour of the ambulance and gives them stickers while I'm being checked out. Too cute.
So he's asking me questions. I'm answering. "I had a little too much to drink last night. I haven't eaten anything yet."
Him, "Do you want us to take you to the hospital?"
Me, "If I'm having a stroke. Am I having a stroke?"
Him, "No. You're not having a stroke." Silence for a moment. "Haven't you ever heard of a hangover?"
Me, "Uh, heh-heh. I guess it's been a while since I've had one."
Then they waited with me while I got a hold of my Honey Bunch. It took a while because there was NO cell service in the mall back then. They did not want me to drive home so they waited until they were sure my Honey Bunch was on his way before they left.
They were so great. They never even laughed at me for calling 911 for a hangover.
At least not to my face.
Oh yes, I should mention that the paramedics said I was having a panic attack. I think it was partially because of the guilt of the cigarette, since I promised my Honey Bunch I would never smoke, ever again. The guilt of that weighed heavily on me!
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