Ugh, I passed out.

When I came to, I didn't know where I was. I was lying in a reclining chair and someone was calling my name. I opened my eyes and saw a TV tuned to CNN hanging from an office ceiling. I looked to my left and saw a woman's face looking at me. I was completely bewildered, and extremely anxious for things to start making sense but I didn't know what to do to bring that about. I didn't even know if the TV, the voice calling my name, and the face were related or real.

Finally I sensed that it was the woman saying my name, and then it clicked that she was the nurse who had just taken my blood. I remembered that I had been doing well on this, my second experience with donating blood, with only mild sweating and compulsive yawning and less of the wooziness I felt the first time. The last thing I remembered was the nurse saying "Okay I'm going to remove the n----e now" and that was fine I just had to keep my attention focused on the TV, but now there were two TVs and they were fuzzy but that was okay too and --

I don't think I have ever had my brain do a cold reboot like that. The nurse said I was out for thirty seconds and even snoring. It was very stressful to be in a strange environment with no context. I wonder if that is what life is like for people like Clive Wearing. After a few minutes I was back to normal and enjoying my free cookies and juice.

For a long time I have had a kind of hospital phobia. It doesn't always happen but when it does I am powerless against it. One time we visited a friend who was recovering from a car crash. She had terrible bruising from the seat belt but that didn't bother me. I couldn't stop thinking about all the tubes going in and out of her, especially the one carrying slowmoving coffee-colored sludge which I knew was taking over for her GI tract. Soon I had taken a seat with my head between my knees, pretending to need to retie my shoes, and everyone, including the patient, was focused on me and asking if I was okay.

It's a minor inconvenience and usually easy to avoid, but I am worried that one day it will be me in the hospital or someone who needs me, and I will be too weak and woozy to be of any use. I also take it as a kind of personal affront that my reptile mind betrays me, and want to try and overcome this perceived weakness. I can't think of any better technique than Mithridatism: exposing myself to the dreaded stimulus until I develop a tolerance. Adding some platelets to the supply feels good too.