While Lying on the Sidewalk At The Corner Of 86th And Lex

In this story, it’s me—not a cute dog—who ends up lying on the sidewalk, but I figured you’d rather look at a cute dog. Photo by Sheldon Kennedy on Unsplash.

Five years ago I syncoped, (pronounced sink-oh-peed), which is what it should be called when you have an episode of syncope, but that verb form doesn’t actually exist. Syncope is when you suddenly pass out because your brain doesn’t receive enough blood, usually because of a drop in blood pressure. I’ve only done this once, but I’ve almost-syncoped (pronounced all-most-sink-oh-peed) a half dozen times, most recently last month.

It happened at 10:15am when I was exiting the subway at 86th Street and Lexington Avenue and thought, “Oh, I feel kind of dizzy. Sort of like I might faint. I need to sit down. Right now.”

But there was nowhere to sit except the dirty sidewalk.

My lizard brain kicked in.

I imagine the “lizard” part of my brain as a dragon, since the dragon is my favorite type of lizard. The silhouette photo is by Sanju Pandita on Unsplash and I added the dragon.

SIT! My lizard brain commanded.

I sat down on the dirty sidewalk. But I still felt bad.

LIE DOWN! My lizard brain roared. It understood that it needed to get blood to itself right now and that lying down would make this happen.

My lizard brain did not care if the sidewalk was dirty. Back when the lizard parts of our brains evolved millions of years ago, sidewalks had not yet been invented. Although I’m pretty sure there was already dirt.

As I lay on the dirty sidewalk, I felt like I was dying. But I didn’t think I was dying. I knew I wasn’t dying, but it felt like I was.

As an English teacher, I find this distinction interesting. My students often use the two verbs interchangeably, saying in a discussion “I feel like the theme of this poem is…” when they mean “I think the theme of this poem is…”

But I wasn’t thinking about this while I lay on the dirty sidewalk.

I wasn’t even thinking all that much about how dirty the sidewalk was.

Well, maybe a little.

You always hear about how people in cities don’t want to get involved, but several people stopped to help me right away. Two women knelt down on either side of me. One of them was a fourth-year-medical-student, which I know because she kept saying “I’m a fourth-year-medical-student!”

She knew her stuff, too. She had me turn on my side in case I threw up. She asked me the sorts of questions doctors ask you about pain level and medications and chronic conditions. She stayed with me until the ambulance came, talking to me, patting my arm, and restating to anyone who came by “I’m a fourth-year-medical-student!”

By the time the EMTs arrived, I was feeling much better. I was sitting up and was pretty sure I could stand. While the EMTs loaded me onto a stretcher for the five-foot journey to the ambulance, I was able to thank the fourth-year-medical-student and, of course, tell her that my son is a doctor.

In the ambulance, the EMTs did all the tests they could, including a full EKG. EKGs always make me think of the movie E.T. because that’s where I first saw one performed. The writers probably included it as a recognizable medical test for humans. But since I’d never seen it before, EKGs always make me think “Look, I’m getting a test they use on aliens!”

I passed all their tests and then phoned home just like E.T. to ask Rob to come and get me. The EMTs really wanted to bring me to the ER, because that is what EMTs do. But I think they secretly agreed with me that it was not at all risky to have my husband drive me home where I could sit around for the rest of the day. If I felt bad later, Rob could drive me to the hospital. Spoiler: He did not have to drive me to the hospital.

I realize I haven’t focused enough on the EMTs, who were kind and knowledgeable and very good at their jobs. The one who did all the medical stuff was named Evan, and the one who drove the ambulance probably wasn’t named Evan, although I guess he might have been.

Not-Evan suggested I meet Rob at the Starbucks on 85th and Lex. Evan buckled me into a seat in the back of the ambulance, and Not-Evan drove one block south to said Starbucks. Evan saw me safely across the street before Not-Evan drove them away. I ordered the saltiest thing on the menu (a bacon-and-egg sandwich) and waited for Rob.

Now that it’s over, I’m so grateful it wasn’t any worse than what it was. And as always, I’m grateful to Rob for taking care of me and to ski season for being over so that he wasn’t away somewhere skiing. I’m grateful to Evan and Not-Evan and to all the people who stopped to help me, especially the fourth-year-medical-student.

As I write this I am at home SIBWC, which is my new term for Sitting In Bed With Cats. I tried it out on my very smart friend Lauren just now. So I will end by saying I am also grateful to Lauren who pointed out that SIBWC is pronounced sib-wook.