I feel the need to address some simple matters of safety. So it's not so much that you're doing it wrong, as, well, you're doing it wrong.

Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate all you guys do for me, it's above and beyond what most friends ever have to do and I'm really blessed to have you all.

But while I love you, I'd also love it if we could streamline this passing out business.

1. Do Not Call 911

First off, don't bother calling 911. Been there, done that. This is a carefully documented case of SVT, ie, the kind of crazy heart rhythm that can't kill you. So unless I'm bleeding profusely from my head, resist what you learned in kindergarten.


See- what they said! Also, odds are, I'm going to opt out and get in a fight with the paramedics, so let's just avoid the haterade and not call.



2. Do Not Move Me

Second, if you want me to come to, don't sit me up. The ground is my abusive boyfriend: first it beats me, then it wants to hold me. Let it.



3. Don't Try to Rouse Me

Nothing is scarier than coming to and having someone hit you. And for a head that just hit cement the jarring doesn't really help so much as makes me want to shove needles into my eyes.


Again, I'm UNCONSCIOUS. All the yelling in the world isn't going to help. Really. It just freaks other people out and while I love being the center of attention, being the person that causes mass hysteria has gotten me hate mail. Literally.


If slapping and screaming didn't work, believe me, water is not going to help, unless, of course, I pass out in a wet-t-shirt contest, and if that's the case, well, carry on.



4. Don't Freak Out

And Lastly, DON'T FREAK OUT. This happens. A lot. So take a freaking chill pill and relax for the whole thirty seconds that I'm out for (I've never heard reports of over a minute). Look, passing out, shaking, eye-insanity, some breathing cessation, and small amounts of blood are (quasi) normal. More importantly, if I spend energy trying to calm you down, it'll get worse! So in the future, just know it will all be ok. I promise.

So what can you do? You can just wait for me to come to and stick me somewhere to sleep and go on with whatever you were doing, I'll join you when I'm better. Life's too short to waste fighting with cops over this silly syncope business.

Oh, but before you go about your regularly scheduled program, grab me some pedialyte (or Gatorade or salt water, oh and some Excedrin)- then I'll love you even more.