MRT Episode

I’ve read (from various literature) that when one faints, his or her vision becomes blurry and the sound around him or her becomes distant (but not completely turned off) just before he or she is engulfed in darkness.

Save for the blurry vision, I didn’t experience anything close to the description above, but I am sure I fainted on my way to work one Tuesday morning (August 2).

I boarded a jam-packed MRT coach at the Quezon Avenue station in QC. I was carrying a black shoulder bag, and in my left hand were my umbrella, a copy of Reader’s Digest, and my magnetic MRT card. What I can’t get over with, until now, is the fact that I was wearing an outfit any woman in her right mind wouldn’t wear when she plans to pass out — a sleeveless short dress (the one I’m wearing in my photo in my September 6 post). Not that I planned on making a scene (hello!), but of all days I had to pass out, it would be on the day I was wearing some stupid dress. Talk about inappropriate get-up.

I don’t know if it was because there were too many people in the coach (there are always too many people in MRT coaches during rush hours), or because I had not eaten breakfast (I usually don’t eat breakfast until I get to the office), or because I’d been reading (Yes, standing), that I started feeling nauseous just as we were approaching Cubao station (about 2-3 minutes after I boarded the train). I tried to keep my presence of mind by telling myself over and over that I was not going to faint, by trying to focus, by taking deep breaths, and by asking God not to let me faint (Yes again, I do pray). Thinking that leaning on something (or someone) would help, I moved closer to the tall guy in front of me and, inhibitions cast aside, leaned on him.

And then, nothing.

The next thing I knew, I was already seated, and two women, one of whom was pregnant, (ironic, isn’t it) were fanning me. Still feeling weak, I closed my eyes; I was sweating cold. Just then, I heard the driver’s voice announcing we were already at Shaw Blvd., and felt someone putting my things (card, umbrella, and Reader’s Digest) on my lap. It didn’t take long for me to realize what had happened: I passed out.

Looking back at that incident now, I’d say the minutes (or maybe seconds) before the actual fainting is the most terrible part of the experience. I felt suffocated, and my vision was blurry. Add to that is the feeling of helplessness, which, in itself is terrible.

The actual fainting is the easiest part, for I didn’t feel anything at all, maybe because I didn’t fall over (like I said, the coach was jam-packed, there was no way I could have dropped). Everything just went blank. It felt like I was in a dreamless sleep; not even a faint sound penetrated my consciousness.

The waking-up part is not physically too bad either, except for the weak feeling and cold sweat.

It’s the humiliation that’s more difficult to deal with… Up to now, I still wonder how I looked and what happened during the 5 or so minutes I was “out.” My officemates have speculated about it a lot. Their most nagging questions have been: Where had the tall guy gone? Had you seen him again when you regained consciousness? Was he handsome?

Duh!