On Monday, Samson and I went to work after a very chilled-out and uneventful Sunday at his. The morning went somewhat slowly and lunchtime arrived with relief. We met in the shop downstairs, then went into the dining hall where we usually eat of late. I had been snacking close to lunchtime and wasn't hugely hungry, so I left Samson to get his hot meal and went to get myself a sandwich, before meeting up again in the dining hall to find a table to sit at. We found a small table at the far side of the room, next to the window that looked out on to the walkway that runs parallel to the building. We sat down, made some chit-chat and Samson attempted to start his lunch with some difficulty, as there seems to be a shortage of forks lately when we have lunch, so he was having to make do with using a plastic fork on a chicken breast. I had put my lunch in my bag, which was now on the floor next to my chair, so I reached down to pick it up without looking.
My hand clasped the edge of my bag, near the strap and the end of the zip. Somehow, a part of the metal zip had become loose so that a few of the metal teeth were stuck out at an angle they shouldn't have been. As I picked up my bag, my thumb made fierce contact with the pointed metal. One of the teeth had sunk right into the fleshy part of my thumb and was stuck there. I winced with pain and Samson noticed. "What's wrong?" he asked, as I panted, slightly dramatically, with the pain and the panic. I gave a vague explanation about what had happened. "Let me help," he started to say but I immediately rebuffed him. "No, no, no, no," I said, knowing that I had to sort this out as then at least I could control it and therefore how painful it was. The metal wouldn't just come straight out, the way a pin might, or even a knife. The metal teeth had been hooked around the end of the zipper and one of those little hooks was now hooked into my thumb. I tried not to panic and had to wiggle my thumb and the bag at an angle, trying to do so slowly to avoid more pain, but also slightly panicked by trying to get it out of there as quickly as possible. When I finally managed to untangle myself from it, I looked at the mark on my thumb (which seemed insignificant as there was only a small break in the skin and very little blood) and promptly felt woozy. "I feel faint," I remember saying, and then started to lean my arms forward onto the table so that I could rest my head on them.
I felt warm and comfortable, I could hear noise around me and felt like I was dreaming. When I opened my eyes, my face was on the floor and Samson was looking over me at a weird angle. "Em? Are you okay? You passed out. Can you hear me? Let me help you up." Everything was spinning and blurry and I remember him sitting me back down on my chair. "Oh, you've bumped your head." I remember him talking to me, but I still felt really dizzy and sick. I leant my arms on the table and my head on top of them and remember Samson telling me he was going to get someone. I was somewhat aware of my surroundings, but was overwhelmed by the dizziness. When Samson returned, he said that someone from Security was coming. He kept saying, "Try and keep your head up babe, I know it's hard," and went to get me some water, which I sipped at, but found I couldn't drink much of.
I don't know how long it was after I came round, but I suddenly felt really hot and started sweating profusely. I mean
profusely. My face, my neck, my upper body was dripping with sweat, it was literally pouring off me. A security officer arrived and asked me some questions. Two other security officers arrived, a man and a woman. I remember hearing them saying they were going to call an ambulance. The lady asked Samson if I had a hair band to tie my hair back with, as I was sweating so much. He started looking in my bag, but they couldn't find one. The female security officer held my hair up away from my neck. I remember seeing a stack on napkins on the table. They were fanning me and dabbing my face and neck with the napkins. Someone told me that the ambulance had been called and was on its way. Samson was sat next to me the whole time. I remember at one point holding on to him and saying, "I'm scared." I still felt woozy and faint, was dripping with sweat and at that moment felt panicked at the prospect of going to hospital on my own.
Samson asked if I wanted him to get the rest of my stuff which was upstairs. The male security guard who had arrived later asked, "Are you friends, are you going to stay with her?" Samson explained he would come with me in the ambulance, but would go up to get my stuff and tell my line manager what had happened. The guard, who I recognised as someone who had done this year's London marathon and who I had sponsored when his form made its way round our department, turned to me and said "I'm going to sit next to you to keep you company. Your friend is going to go and speak to your line manager, so don't worry about that. He's going to come with you in the ambulance, is that okay?" I remember nodding, but finding it funny that Samson hadn't said that we were anything more than friends. After a while, with the female security guard still fanning me and mopping my face, I felt more lucid and a bit calmer. The first security guard asked me for my name and contact details, apologising for all the questions, but explaining that it had to be logged in the incident/accident book. Earlier, Samson had given him my ID card, but I felt able to write out my details, rather than having to dictate to and spell everything for him verbally.
After a while, Samson returned. The paramedics arrived not long after, three of them (two ladies and a man), which felt somewhat excessive and added to the ever-growing gaggle of people around me. They asked what had happened and asked some other questions. The younger lady asked my name, took my pulse and checked my eyes. They discussed what to do between them and then said they would take me back to the ambulance where they could check me with a bit more peace, quiet and privacy. We walked through the dining hall to the lifts, all eight of us, down one floor and then outside to the ambulance. People were looking as we walked and I remember some people at nearby tables looking over at me when the security officers had first come over and it seemed like some drama was happening. Samson told me that I had sort of just slipped sideways off my chair and onto the floor and for a moment he had thought I was joking. Then he realised that we weren't at home and I wasn't likely to slump onto the floor at work for a joke. What surprised him most was that I had landed almost at the feet of the person at the table next to us and no-one had got up to help or even check if anything was wrong. When he had gone to get some help, he first went to one of the catering staff and she had helpfully said, "I don't speak English." He had eventually found another member of catering staff who had gone to call security.
When we got into the ambulance, the two female paramedics told me to lay on the trolley and they checked my eyes again, my blood pressure, my blood sugar (by pricking my finger, which thankfully didn't make me feel faint) and then said they were going to give me an ECG. They checked that I was okay with Samson being in there with me, seeing as I had to lift up my top. "Yeah, he's my boyfriend," I said, "He's seen it all before." "I bet he has," said the older one, while they both laughed. They stuck ten of the pads on my chest and then hooked me up to the machine, while I had to stay as still as possible. The younger one asked me questions and took my details, but seemed to be less experienced and was checking things with the older lady, who seemed very experienced and no-nonsense, but they were both pleasant. When the checks were done, they said that from their perspective everything seemed fine, so it was up to me whether I wanted to go to A&E. I wasn't really sure, but knew I didn't want to go back to work and wasn't sure that I would be able to face going home yet either, as I still felt weak and somewhat light-headed.
After discussing it, I decided to go to A&E, seeing as I was still not feeling quite well and I had bumped my head. I thought it would be better to go there and then with medical staff, rather than go home and potentially feel worse later on and then have to go on my own. We set off and arrived at Chelsea and Westminster a few minutes later. While the paramedics checked me in, the younger lady commented, "I think you're the healthiest patient I've ever dealt with." I laughed a little and asked why. "Your stats are perfect. Your blood pressure was 118/76, textbook is 120/80. Do you work out regularly?" I admitted that I was out of practice when it came to exercise, while Samson chuckled to himself in the background and proceeded to tease me about it for the rest of the day. I was a little surprised that everything was almost 'textbook' and that on paper I seemed so healthy, seeing as I never feel particularly healthy lately. In the end, we were there for a few hours, with the final prognosis being that everything was fine, I might have a headache for a while and that I should take painkillers if this was the case, all of which I could have told myself, but at least this way I had an official medical opinion, should anything happen subsequently.
When we were getting ready to leave, The Mrs called to follow up on a text she'd sent me about us meeting up to watch a fireworks display on Sunday.
"I can't really talk right now, I'm just leaving A&E," I said.
"What happened?" She asked. I explained that I had fainted. "Oh you idiot," she replied, sympathetically.
I described what had happened, saying that, "When I came round, I just started dripping with sweat."
"You're disgusting," she informed me.
"Er...what are you training to be again?" I asked, laughing, referring to the fact that she will qualify as a mental health nurse in a few months, a profession which requires a caring and sympathetic nature. We laughed about it and agreed our Sunday plans before saying goodbye.
We went back to Samson's, where he made me dinner. After dinner we chilled out. I was feeling incredibly tired after the days' excitement. Samson asked if he could have a cuddle. We laid on the bed and he put his arms around me. "You are very precious to me," he said, "I'm glad you're okay, I don't want to see you get hurt." He told me that if it ever happened again and he wasn't there, that I should ring him and he would come to me. He had been really calm and caring throughout the whole thing and had made me feel safe and looked after. I felt very grateful that he had been there and dreaded the thought of how I might have felt if it had happened while I was alone. I told him that I had felt scared at first at the thought of going to the hospital alone. "I would never have let you go on your own," he assured me. "It didn't even enter my head to let you go alone."
I couldn't help thinking about the time I had passed out while at The Ex's house when he had a gathering for his birthday. They were playing cards in the dining room. One of his friends had a video on his phone of a girl getting beaten up by another girl, while a group of guys egged her on. Goodness knows why he even had it on his phone, much less thought it was worthy of showing to his group of friends. I didn't actually know exactly what the video contained, so as various friends looked at it, their reactions piqued my interest. Against my better judgement, I watched it. The violent nature of the video, made worse by the fact that I knew it was a real event that had actually happened, made me feel sick. I promptly passed out. Luckily, on that occasion I was stood against some french doors and simply slid down them onto my knees without hurting myself. But the main difference was what happened afterwards. The girlfriend of one of the friends knew first aid and got me some fresh air and some water. I remember feeling embarrassed and escaped to the bathroom when I felt a bit better. The Ex came to check on me, told me to drink the water, made sure I was okay, then took me downstairs to the living room where two of his friends were sitting. He told them to keep an eye on me, then went back into the other room to continue playing poker. He friends were very sweet, but it didn't compensate for the fact that he didn't keep me company himself. I sat in that room still feeling a little weak for the rest of the evening. The night ended with him being rather drunk and me having to help him get to bed.
It might not seem a huge thing, but having Samson take care of everything, make sure I was okay, keep me company and show me with his actions that he cared for and was concerned about me, meant a great deal. It was a small turning point, but it showed me for sure that how he feels, whether or not he has explicitly expressed it to me, translates into what he does, rather than merely remaining in just words. Knowing you can rely on someone is a hugely important factor of being in a relationship. Maybe it took that bump on my head to realise just how much.
So...here we go!
Click the button to play along too.
