It's now 8:46, and I've come thisclose to fainting twice since I left the house. I have already done waaaaaaaaaaay too much this morning. Jogged to the train since it was sitting at the station and I was running late. Hmmm...it's still there and the doors aren't open. Realize I left my wallet (with cta card and money both in it) in the living room. Run home. Run back to train, just miss it. Since it's the same train, I know that something's up with the rails. I get to the platform as another train arrives and I sit down to read the paper. We leave Addison and promptly stop. And sit. And sit. We express from Fullerton to Lake, and by Clyborn I know something's wrong. I can count on one hand the number of times I've fainted, but I run out of fingers when I consider the times I've almost fainted. The fluttering in my stomach, the odd feeling in my lungs, my eyes sometimes fading in and out, and a knowledge that this is immune to stern thoughts. I fold up my paper and start to breathe deep as I close my eyes. I will not faint IwillnotfaintIwillnotfaint is my mantra, my grasp on the here and now. Finally it passes and I stare blankly out at the black tunnel walls for the rest of the ride.

I have a proclivity to almostfaint on the morning trains, especially in the heat of the summer. It's one of the reasons I started riding my bike to work, actually. I got sick of having to slide down onto the sticky sketchy floor when I was fighting for consciousness. The more humid and hot the morning, the worse my chances were. I'd be hydrated. I'd be in weather-appropriate clothing. I'd walk to the train and sedately ascend the stairs. But I'd still get the moment of panic as the butterflies kicked it oldskool in my middle and know that if I didn't sit down, I'd crash like a redwood and then be even more late to work for a retarded reason.

What? We all have our issues. Mine is being *that* person who makes the train stop for 35 minutes until the ambulance can come and assess the situation. Everybody hates you, and at 7:15a that's too much weight to carry thru the day.
SO. I head to work, run across the light at Michigan b/c I realize that I have either low blood sugar, dehydration, or anemia--all of which can be fixed in the office if I can just *get* there. Which I do, and use the elevator's increased gravity to help pull more blood to my sad little brain. I stumble into my doorframe, realize that I can't coordinate my body enough to pour cereal into a bowl and then put the milk into the cabinet instead of back in the fridge. There's a moment of considering whether I have to use a spoon, but civilization wins out and I spoon huge mounds of Cheerios into my mouth and pray for blood sugar equalization. Without it, I'm screwed.
It only worked so-so; I almost fainted after our morning meeting (take a headrush and add buckling knees) and realized that perhaps a donut is the next prescription. I end up with apple juice since the line is too long, and guzzle greedily it.