The One Where I Think I am Having a Stroke

A weird thing happened to me the other day.

I was a work, reading through some particularly boring Clinical studies when I started feeling a tingling sensation in my left pinky finger.

At first, I really didn’t pay attention to it. I have really poor circulation in my hands and feet. If it’s particularly cold (and it always hovers slightly above hypothermic conditions in my office) sometimes my fingers will turn a lovely shade of white and I have to run my hands under scalding water until I don’t look like some half albino. I also don’t have a lot of feeling left in that finger due to the fact that I almost sliced it off last summer in a freak quilting accident.

However, the tingling continued. It started to spread throughout my left hand.

Ok , no biggie. The hand must have fallen asleep or I pinched a nerve holding my hands in a sort of bunny-sits-at-a-desk position. But not amount of shaking of my hand would make the pins and needles disappear. I must have looked like some sort of freak flailing around in the corner cubical.

Suddenly, my lip started to tingle.

Then my cheek.

Then my left eyesight became fuzzy.

That’s when I started to panic.

Either I was having my eventually psychotic break or I was having a stroke.
(It didn’t help that those Clinical studies I was reading happened to be about the adverse effects of stroke medications.)

For about five minutes, I thought this was the end. I was going to die. Here. At the office. Please don’t let my epitaph read “She died making sure those Clinical Studies were FDA approved.”

As fast as the tingling started, it was gone leaving me to spend my lunch break trying to figured out what the hell happened.

Did I have a stroke? I had to run to the bathroom to make sure the left side of my face hadn’t shifted south. Or was it just a figment of my hypcondriatic imagination. This wouldn’t be the first time some little twinge sends me to start writing my last will and testament. My senior year of high school, I was kept awake for three month straight with mysterious dry heaves and excruciating pain in my chest (Is 18 too young for a heart attack?). Turns out that my esophagus decided to call it a day and wear away. I got to live on rice and applesauce for a few weeks which led to me looking totally killer in my prom dress.

I guess, if I did kick the bucket I would have looked fabulous.