Vasovagal This.

Yes, that's right. The saga of Katie's Brain continues with another fun trip to the doctor. This time, for the test of all tests. The Tilt Table Test.

I was prepared for this test, with a warning that the goal for this test was to get me to pass out. In the most archaic of fashions, they were going to strap me to a table, tilt me to an almost standing position and stare at me until I passed out.

In one arm, I have an IV. On the other, a blood pressure cuff that every three minutes tightened. On one finger, a doo-wop that measures my heart rate. And splayed across any other available skin surface, were about twenty electroids all tangled with wires that led to a loud machine. I was Frankenstein.

The goal of passing out, was merely to monitor what exactly happens when I pass out. They want to see what my blood pressure does, what my heart is doing...and if any of these things are causing me to do the passing out in the first place. Everyone was incredibly nice, patient and helpful. If I hadn't been strapped to a table, I may have enjoyed my visit with these fine people.

Thirty minutes in, aside from feeling slightly warm and dizzy, nothing much is happening. They decide they're going to help it along. They tell me they're about to drop a tablet under my tongue that will dissolve and make my heart speed up and give me a headache. Even though someone is telling you what's about to happen, when it happens, it's absolutely terrifying. So my heart speeds up to a racing pace and I freak out. I start crying and the doctor starts apologizing, "I'm sorry I made you cry!" And I'm saying, "It's okay, I cry all the time. Don't worry..." And he keeps talking, trying to make light of the situation. I say, "Okay, shut up. I'm passing out."

Boom. Lights out.

It was the freakiest thing ever. Now, granted this was the goal. They were testing me to see how my body responds to these things and obviously, my body failed. Or won? It seemed odd to come-to and have them standing over me saying, "Great job. You passed the test." I passed the test? Meaning I failed. Awesome? "Congratualtions," they say, "You have Vasovagal Syncope." Cool. All this means is that I'm prone to losing conciousness from time to time. They say my heart and blood pressure were fine the whole time, so it's not caused my anything scary. This is the only comforting part in this situation. What is causing it, I don't know. Syncope, at its most basic, is a malfunction of your brain. Your brain can't tell your body to respond and dialate and collapse your blood vessels causing oxygen and blood to be cut off.

The cure? Nothing. There's literally nothing they can do. Unless it gets to the point where I'm passing out left and right, God forbid, there's no medication I can be put on. This is why people get pacemakers. Yet I'm not old, I'm a healthy young lass, which makes this all the more frustrating. So until something blaringly obvious is brought to the doctor's attention, they told me to keep eating right, drink lots of water and generally take care of myself.

The only comfort I get from this, is that I'm not dying. I've also decided that I'm just going to eat myself fat. Suck it, brain.