Passing Out/Fainting - First Hand Account

I've been passing out at random and inconvenient times since I was about three. My loses in consciousness are usually brought on by a lack of oxygen to my brain and are almost always followed by anoxic seizures - but there have been times when I've fainted from shock, and it's always pretty much the same.

The seizures are usually preceded by a day of feeling off, but the first thing that happens consistently, regardless of why I'm passing out, is the back of my neck gets hot. Not hot like a little warm, more hot like I want to claw all my clothes off. Next I start to get dizzy, then my vision goes dark and eventually disappears. Sounds become muted at the same time as the world starts spinning, and I can usually feel myself starting to fall before I'm completely out. There's also an emotional element, that may be tied to the embarrassment I felt as a child when this would happen in public places, but either way, I'm almost always both terrified and extremely sad right before I lose consciousness.

I think that's everything. If I think of anything else, I'll add it.

Getting Shot - Internet Account

I decided to start things off with getting shot since my search for that information is what inspired DevCo Ex to begin with. I don't know anyone who has been shot personally, and I have no way of verifying the legitimacy of these two accounts, but here they are. The first one is from a man who got shot in the stomach, the second from a man who got shot in the chest. Links to the full articles are provided below the direct quotes.

It was a cold and dull pain, but it grew by the second...You know what it's like to get punched in the arm? You know that throbbing when they get you right on the bone? That's what it was like. It ached so badly, I couldn't breathe. I felt a weight on my chest.

Read the rest of the article here.

I myself was ... at point-blank range with a .22″ magnum revolver single-action, convertable–to.22″ LR with alternate cylinder). The bullet was likely 40-grain; the type: .224 caliber high velocity (WMR–Winchester Magnum Rimfire, MAxiMag), with a nominal muzzle velocity of 1,550 fps, from a likely 6.5″ handgun barrel (applied pressure, point blank: 324 foot pounds per sq. inch) ... First of all, there was the most incredible, shocking impact you could ever imagine–equivalent with having
an M-80 (quarter stick of dynmamite) go off in your shirt pocket–and I can tell
you, I was sent reeling. It felt like I was thrown back good 2-to-5 feet or more, as my legs gave out on me. There was simultaneously, a feeling like a bomb went off INSIDE of my chest, and that of being jack-hammered through my chest wall–all of this, all at once. Then, everything semed to go into slow motion, as undoubtedly, a large amount of adrenaline was released from my adrenal medulla, causing my central nervous system synaopses to fire faster–like a high-speed camera, producing a slow motion effect. I was later told that the bullet (not surprisingly) ricocheted around in my chest like a pinball, first penetrating my entire chest mass, fracture and bounce off my left scapula, hurle back through my chest again, fracture a rib, and then bounce back through, trace a path around another rib (and puncture the pleural lining of my left lung), next flying straight into my spinal collumn, fracturing my T-9 and T-10 thoracic vertebrae, and transecting my spinal cord (I am now paraplegic). Feeling all of this, all at once, was equivalent roughly, I suppose, was like being shot three times or more, not to mention that waves of paresthesia (tingling) echoed and serged throughout my body. My feeling in my legs was gone, just like that, at
the same time I was flying backward–into a chair and a desk. Oddly, at that
moment, I was hell-bent on protecting my head. Finally, laying on the ground in
that room, only a good 30 seconds or so post-impact, I felt my left lung begin to squeeze, and my breaths were agonizingly painful and teribly short. Every
breath was a knife turning in my lung. Then, I began to loose my vision–like
white-out erasing my visual field) as I began to go into hypo-volemic shock (low
blood volume). I lost my ability to see temporarily, and could not tell what was
going on around me. Then I passed out for what was probably thirty minutes. It
was a darn miracle that I did not die, as a doctor later told me, the bullet almost ‘curved’ around my heart, within a centimeter or two of hitting it or a major blooc vessel (it could have easily hit me right in the inferior, or even the superior, veina cava, near the heart muscle, in which case death would have followed in 1-2 minutes or even fewer, and unconsciousness in thirty seconds or less. As to the question: ‘Does a person writhe in agony?’–No, I personally did not WRITHE in agony, like I had been lit on fire, but I was instantly thrown into the most excruciating, truly agonizing experience of pain I have ever known–and I have had chronic spinal pain ever since, being on prescriptions such as morphine sulfate, Dilaudid (hydromorphone HCl) and levorphanol tartrate. The reason I was not WRITHING in agony is I was knocked into a state of indescribable shock, and was incapable of much, if any movement. However, after waking up thirty minutes or so after passing out, I managed to sit up, despite my paralysis, and I still remember–even though my pain had deminished somewhat at that point, due… undoubtedly, to endorphin release–the feeling of warm blood pouring down my shirt, and adding tot he pool of blood underneath me, the veinous flow coming directly from the now hot, burning wound on, and in, my chest. I laid there for about four more hours before someone found me–I could barely whisper, much less yell, due to my 16% or so lung capacity, and as it turns out, nearly two liters… the amount of fluid in a large soda pop bottle, on my left lung… like a refridgerator crushing the left side of my chest–and by the time the paramedics got there, I was in utter shock. I was also beginning to hurt so badly again that no words can describe it. It was horrible. Hospitalization was no picnic either, let me tell you. Even after draining off the fluid once with a chest tube–a rubber catheter inserted through your ribs, into the pleural lining of your lung, they gave me what is known as positive-pressure respiratory treatment, and the inflation of my lung popped a blood vessel and caused additional pleurasy, and another ‘hemothorax’. Originally, I also had air trapped in my chest–a pneumothorax, which they had to releave with a cannula. That hurt too! After two additional chest tubes and having to bear down to force the reddish.-brown fluid out of my chest cavity and into a collector, I finally regained around 98% lung capacity, amazingly, and then–one month after arriving at Santa Clara Valley Medical Center in the Bay Area, California, I began Spinal Cord Injury Rehabilitation. I had to learn to deal with having little control over my bowels, having to learn how to do a ‘bowel program’ with suppositories, and the fact that I had no feeling in my groin–meaning no future physical sexual feelings, and no ability to masturbate–and still having a huge sex drive… how do you like that?–I had almost no way to relieve tension, escept exciesize, for endorphin release, and taking my pain meds...

You can read the rest of the article here.

This is clearly a test post

Lalala, I'm testing visibility.
Imna keep typing, 'til I cover the lamp
'cause that's what I'm really trying to see.
Lalala