Anyways, I was dehydrated (well supposedly). In my mind I still had a brain tumor, but I tried my best to go on with my normal activities. Something just felt strange though. I felt slightly sluggish and almost empty. A couple nights later one of my friends, Audra, and I got some Starbucks, and spent the rest of the night (like 3 hours) driving around the three streets in Coalinga. We talked about all sorts of things, but none of the topics were super heavy or depressing. I got home at around midnight, and immediately went to bed. I had Nick at Nite on the television, the ceiling fan was providing me with a comfortable temperature, and I was wearing my biggest and most snuggly pajama shirt. None of these perfect factors helped me. I felt funny, not exceptionally bad at first, just funny. I tossed, turned, and creatively tried to position my body in new ways, attempting to find something to make me comfortable enough to sleep.
Then I started to shake. It wasn't a convulsing shake, just the sort of shiver you get the night before you have something exciting to do. It was an anxious shake, I suppose. The shaking was soon accompanied by a clamminess and outpouring of sweat. Next came the violent pounding of my heart along with the tingling of my right arm and leg. "Brain tumor," I thought, "This must be how you feel when you are about to die from a brain tumor." As tons of disgusting thoughts stampeded in and out of my head, I tried my hardest to continue to find comfort and get some sleep. An unsucessful hour and a half later, I got up to search the medicine cabinets for some sort of sleep aid. I popped a couple pills and plopped back into bed.
Nothing. I felt absolutely no drowsiness. If anything, that stupid pills made me more awake and intensified the shaking, sweating, pounding, and tingling. After another hour I had had enough. I woke my mom up for help. After explaining everything to her, we came to the conclusion that the Starbucks got to me. I still didn't feel right, so I had her come and sleep the rest of the night with me. After 30 minutes and a back rub, I finally got some rest.
Two days later Jake's dad was taking us and our best friends, Josh and Audra, to the beautiful (sarcastic) Lake Buena Vista for a day on the boat, and then we were going to spend the night at Jake's Grm and Grmps (Grandma and Grandpa, duh).
That day I felt great. We ate, sang, tanned, wakeboarded, and Josh and I tubed. He is my fellow wild child on that bad boy, so we got bumped around a bit and had a few nasty crashes. It was nothing out of the norm, however I was slightly nervous it would affect my brain tumor. We finished up our day at the lake, and headed to Grm and Grmps'. They are two of the greatest people on the planet, and have the cutest house that Grmps built himself. It always feels like home. As usual, we had a great night with them. We had pizza, sat around the table, and listened to Grmps (who is the best storyteller EVER). It was perfect. It was then time to sleep, so the four of us set up our beds in the living room and started to settle down. Literally the moment I put my head on the pillow it started again. The shaking, sweating, pounding, and tingling flooded back. This time it was accompanied by an overwhelming feeling. I'm not even sure I can explain what feeling I was being overwhelmed with. It was some sort of sick combination of fear, sadness, claustrophobia, with the slightest touch of anger.
I told Aud and Jake that it was happening again (Josh was on the phone in the other room), and we tried everything to make me comfortable. Aud and I switched pillows, I ditched the blanket, and moved to a different couch. No change. The three of us figured I was dehydrated again, so I started to drink water. I had to urinate almost immediately. We thought that was strange, but I kept forcing the water down anyway. It was worthless. Nothing was changing. Soon I was peeing after every sip I took. I felt awful because I knew everybody was tired, and I was rustling around making it almost impossible for people to sleep. Finally, I went upstairs to a spare bedroom, thinking maybe it would be cooler or quieter there. It was worse. The room is decorated with leftovers from Jake's mom, Melissa, and his Aunt Janna's childhood. This includes porcelain dolls, which are creepy even if you don't think you are dying from a brain tumor. Jake would come up periodically to check on me, and at around 3:30am he stayed in there until I finally fell asleep.
We went back to Coalinga, and everything was semi normal for a few days. Then one night I sat down to have dinner with my family. It was steak and sauteed mushrooms, with garlic mashed potatoes, a caesar salad, and asparagus, so I was feeling pretty good about life. The second I started eating the overwhelming feeling came again. This time it was less physical and more mental. I definitely had a hard time breathing, and my chest had a strange ache to it. This time I was more panicked though. The most disturbing thoughts were flying in and out of my head without my control. Even with all of this activity going on inside me, I felt dead. It was like my battery was drained. I felt intense emotions, but could do nothing but sit blankly. After a minute or so I snapped out of it and began gasping for air. I started crying and yelling that I was dying. I demanded that somebody take me to the hospital. This was it. I was sure I was going to die within the hour.
Of course, my mom panicked, and next thing I knew we were speeding to the hospital. The five minute drive had slightly soothed me, and I was ready to explain my symptoms. They got me in right away (obviously, it's Coalinga). My experience there, however, was awful. The doctor came in, looked at me and said my condition could be a few things. I was either on street drugs, having a weird reaction to legal medication, or I was schizophrenic. As you can imagine, this made me feel fantastic. My mom payed $50, I got a plastic bracelet, and we were headed back home, where I was still sure I was going to die.
More soon :)
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