I am my own Amusement Park!

                                                                                        Mood:Alive!!
Drama!!
So I'm 120 lbs today yes.
Today is not without its challenges let me tell you.
Last night I got drunk, I did it so I could purge in the free and clear. It worked of course. I also did it to drop the last pound so this morning I could finally be at 120, it worked too.
Now this morning I was hungover, like really hungover! Now I remember why I stopped drinking in the first place. The alarm went off and I had to take my daughter to school. I could barley function, let alone drive. Ugh my head is pounding. I get her dressed and then go weigh. I'm 120 yay! and ouch my head.
We're off to school and I am utterly dizzy and nauseous. I decided to go to BK for breakfast, maybe I had low sugar, I needed something to help me feel better.
Warning: Actual Binge Items below, they don't call it a binge for nothing lovelies!

I'm done and headed back home to purge. I didn't want to do it at the restaurant, I get paranoid in public bathrooms, plus this was a place near my home, don't wanna run into anyone I know.

My husband is in bed and I arrive and continue my one woman show-"I'm hungover and sick as a dog!"

Off to the bathroom for a long, noisy  purge. I crawl back into bed and try to rest, sleep away the pain. Awhile later after my stomach has settled I take my supps and water pills, threw in a Stacker today for some reason too.

My husband has to work early today?

Hmm not good. I'm in no condition to drive. He tells me I have to pick up my daughter from school and to please change that sick look off my face. Grr.

So he is gone and I have two hours to attempt to feel better. I get out of bed and start to clean. The time is going by and I decide to shower. I feel panicky

and anxious, I start thinking about the long drive and the dizziness from earlier.

I say a little prayer to our dear lord..Help me Jebus!

Finally I'm presentable. I wear the only pair of skinny black jeans that fit me at the moment and a silky black top that snugs at my body perfectly. My hair is clean and shiny from the shower and I even managed to throw some mascara on this tired ol' mug of mines. Have on my new red bracelet that I bought the other day with matching earrings to boot. Converse are on and tied and I think I'm ready to go. One last look in the mirror and I think I can pass for normal human being today. A happy mom with no problems looming on the horizon.

Now its time to leave and get my daughter from school. I give myself a pep talk to feel less nervous. Now I feel odd.

I'm all tingly and my breathing gets shallow. Maybe its a panic attack? I start to drive and its getting harder and harder to concentrate. The tingly is on my left. My chest is stinging. Oh shit!
I have to pick up my kid from school, this cannot be happening.

The tingling suddenly gets sharper and my hands start to lock up. Instead of a heart attack, I think I'm having a seizure..

I panic big time now, the attack comes to join the sick party. I call my husband on speed dial and he takes forever to answer. Finally he does.

I tell him what's happening to me and he is unable to do a thing, he's at work.

I'm in such a disarray I even get lost suddenly and go the long way around to my daughter's school. I swerve suddenly, both hands are locking up on me. My vision gets blurry, I cant see!

My husband is having hysterics on the other end of the line. "Pull the car over!" he yells at me, but I keep refusing. I think to myself if I can just get to the school. I start to think about my poor daughter alone at school, teacher holding her hand waiting for a no show mom..

Finally the vision comes back and there's a gas station right by the turning lane of the very busy street. The tingly feeling is all over my body now, I can't feel anything. I pull into the gas station and my husband tries to calm me down. He thinks its a panic attack, like the Mother of all panic attacks. I know better, its death tapping me on my shoulder. In the parking lot of the Chevron station I am unable to calm down. I think I'm dying. I call my sister to hear her voice. She is so worried and lives so far away, nothing she can do but panic herself and at work no less.

My husband is getting off of work, he's unsure of what to do. My hands lock up and I'm finding it difficult to breathe. I'm numb all over, I can't even walk. I think maybe its my sugar being so low I'm about to seize up. I ask my husband to call an ambulance, he assures me he will and hangs up. I'm back and forth in between calls, my sister and my husband. An ambulance races down the street and I think good!

Except its not for me?

I answer a call from my husband and ask did he make the call, he says no.

He wants to get there first, he thinks this is something I can just work out for myself. I can't.

I switch over and its my sister, I tell her what he just said and she's had it already, she decides to call him herself and give him a stern talking to. For  the next couple of minutes they are back and forth calling each other arguing and I'm the dying monkey in the middle.

I hang up with them both, and am my own hero. Call 911 in the middle of the afternoon, in a gas station parking lot. I describe my symptoms and they suspect sugar too. I''m on hold until they arrive for me a few minutes later. Here we go, can't turn back now.

City of Miami Fire and Rescue, what is it about these boys in uniform? There are three of them and they are all good looking. Maybe its the profession that makes them extra attractive. The first is a tall, lean one who has a shaved head. His skin is the color of Dijon mustard and he smells of soft cologne. He is very cute. The second one is an older man with handsome maturity all over his face. he is of average height and has muscular arms and very dark brown eyes. The third is a more dignified older still man, who talks with a thick Spanish accent. He is the shortest of the three and says very little. My would be medical team has arrived to heal what ails me.

I'm asked for Id and questioned before they carry me out of the car and load me in the ambulance. I can't walk, my legs instantly buckle.

On the stretcher now and the cool Ac hits my flushed face. I lay down and am questioned again.

"Any Drugs or alcohol?"

Yes beer, I was watching football last night and had a few, got sick from them. Ended up yakking all night and this morning too. My official story if anyone asks.

My blood pressure was good and so was my sugar. My heart was pumping to the tune of 150 and going up.

I needed to calm down, so they began the small talk. My Id was taken earlier and the minute it was handed back I knew the comment that was about to be made. On my driver's license which no one must ever see but the cop who's pulling me over or some other official, my pic is not the woman you see today. I was very different looking. You'd think I had a fake Id. So of course I was asked if that was me and when is the picture from. Its from 2006 I tell them and they all take turns handing it to one another gawking. How embarrassing. I'm asked if I suffer from anxiety and I do. My medical history is brought up and I seem to be healthy. The diagnoses, dehydration. Of course it would be, I don't drink anything!

They tell me alcohol dehydrates you (duh) and the throwing up does too. As the very cute paramedic tells me this I tuck my right hand with the scabbed knuckles under my leg. My red Ana bracelets scream from my wrists against my pale skin, look at me.

So I'm dehydrated, I'm asked if I'm thirsty by the tall, cute cue balled paramedic. I am actually. I tell him I would've bought an orange juice or something but as it happens, I don't have two nickles to rub together on me. Left the house with zero cash. The cute one asks what flavor Gatorade and jots into the station store. My heart rate is stabilizing some. The conversation continues. I'm asked by the second older good looking paramedic why a woman as pretty as me would suffer from depression and anxiety. I tell him Its a hard knock life. He smiles and stares at me wondering why all the armor?

The cute one is back with not one but two Gatorade for me. I have to drink them both right now. I do and I feel like I'm going to pop. I start to count calories and now this is gonna up me to god knows how much!

After the second one is in me, I immediately feel like I want to purge it. The desire to be rid of it is overwhelming. I can't stand the way full feels.

I'm still in the stretcher and I'm stabilizing. I'm given tips on safe drinking and re hydration. I'm told to continue the Gatorade fest all day. I nod my head and pretend to agree. The third paramedic, maybe the chief as his uniform is a crisp white shirt with badges, hands me an electronic clipboard and makes me sign something, also know as the bill-yay wonder how much this is gonna cost me.

I'm all better now. I actually feel it, the tingling is stopping and my hands have relaxed. I'm given more advice and the cute tall one makes a joke.

"Anytime you or any hot friends feel bad, make sure you call again from this same district.." he winks and I smile awkwardly back.

Now he decides to flirt. Nice.

I'm back in the car and my phone is ringing, my husband has picked my daughter up from school already, I'm relieved. He's turning the corner and will be at the station shortly. I wait in the hot car hoping I'm cured.

I'm curious now as to what he'll say..

My daughter is happy to see me and I am too. I dodged a bullet. This would've been real bad. This would be health related Ed scare #2 for me. I'm scared now as to what number three will bring?

My husband is somber and I give him an exhausted smile and begin to explain.

Afterwards he drives behind me in his car making sure I'm fine. We drop my car off and we're off to the market where I'm to buy more Gatorade. In the aisles of the store my husband begins the story of the back and forth with my sister. I don't know who to believe, so much has been said and its all conflicting. I just tune it all out and think about what just happened.

"What are you making for dinner later?" he asks while eyeing the meat department.

Pasta I guess? its easy and quick. I go grab the ingredients while he comes back to the buggy with no Powerade but Gatorade. They are all out, great.

So the bread and pound cake are thrown in the cart and I've just realized what I'm doing. The perfect b/p session is made available to me effortlessly. All the things are here in place for later. In the checkout line, my husband tells me in a low voice "Please stop throwing up, that's the worse thing to do ever. It will kill you faster than anything else." He turns away from me.

I stow the craving away for later. Dropped off home and I begin to cook and IM my friend explaining the long absence. I feel like I wanna cave. Its sick, I just had this scare and here I was not caring again.

So I do. I don't fight it.

I'm done for the day with that and I'm ready to just be still now that Mia's been pleased. I feel unsatisfied and quiet.

This is my Monday.