I made a little fun of a Starbucks drink on Friday and lo, on Saturday, the green mermaid absolutely smote me. At least that is my best explanation for the following events.
I was going to Flushing with my husband to look at countertops. I had found two kitchen showrooms there: one named Desire Kitchen and Bath, the other named Desire K&B. They both carried a brand of quartz I was interested in, but I mostly just enjoyed the lack of trademark respect. But these are the boring contextual details. Let us proceed to the drama.
We get on the train. It's not full and we easily find seats, a good thing too because I probably would have curled into a ball on the floor if what happened happened while I was standing, and then there would've been a Sick Passenger situation and boy, do I have a crippling need to not be disliked by everyone.
Almost as soon as I sit down, I feel a tightening in my throat. I could still breathe, but it was an unsettling tightness. Then my left cheek starts going numb. And then part of my tongue feels like I just got local anesthetic for dental work. I tell my husband what is happening, partly to inform him because I definitely think I'm dying, partly just to hear my voice--I want to know that I'm not slurring my speech.
I speak and the words sound right. So I pull out my phone to see if my face is drooping or swollen; it's not. I'm taking these rational steps to eliminate the possibility of a stroke, all the while my thought process is I'mdyingI'mdyingI'mdying. I'm worried about the hospitals in Queens; response time here is probably pretty bad. I don't have aspirin. What Shonda did to Derek Shepherd. These thoughts do not slow my heart rate.
We get off the train (my husband thinks I'm crazy at this point) and I call my mom, like any normal person having a potential medical crisis. She suggests a panic attack, which I find preposterous because first of all, I thought I was going to die. Secondly, I wasn't thinking about anything when I sat down on the train: not organic chem, not the expense of redoing a kitchen. My mind was delightfully devoid of anything, ready to scroll through Instagram feeds and read Reddit threads I will never publicly admit to reading. But then I google and it turns out yeah panic attacks feel like dying and can come on unprompted, which, fuck you, sympathetic nervous system.
So I've learned my lesson never to take the name of pumpkin spice in vain, or any other seasonal coffee beverages.