Hyper Vigilant
Occasionally in the evenings, an hour or so after eating dinner, I will get one hive on my face. This happens rarely, maybe once a month on average, but frequently enough that it feels like a pattern. It is always only one hive, somewhere around my mouth or along my jawline. There are never any other symptoms of an allergic reaction. When this happens I think through what I ate that day and it’s never anything new to my diet. The hive is always gone by the time I wake up in the morning and then it doesn’t happen again for another month or two.
And yet every time the mystery hive appears I immediately assume that my death is imminent.
I am in an almost constant state of believing that I am about to die. That is perhaps a little extreme - it is probably more accurate to say that I am constantly aware of the things that might lead to my immediate demise. Among these things are physical factors as well as environmental factors. Feeling feverish, having a headache, being extra tired when normally I’m alert, or having the mystery hive on my face all lead me to believe the end is nigh. When any of these or other (common) physical ailments are present I tend to accept my fate quickly, figuring that whatever is happening is already in progress so I just have to ride it out and see what happens. Typically I take a Tylenol, go to bed, and when I wake up still alive I shrug it off with a “Not today, Satan!”, and go along my merry way.
Environmental factors are a little tougher. Truly I see danger everywhere, even in the most mundane places.
The office building where I work is less than 10 years old. It is a two story rectangular brick building, rather non-threatening at first sight. On the inside, though, I sometimes feel we are about to collapse into a pile of rubble. There is no real reason for this other than the fact that the HVAC machinery is all on the roof, so sometimes when it kicks on you can feel the vibrations in certain parts of the building. The first time I noticed this I was sitting at my desk and saw that the water in my bottle of seltzer was rippling. It was much like that scene in Jurassic Park where the water rippling was the first indicator that the T-Rex was on his way. I waited for a dinosaur to come around the corner, but when that didn’t happen I just started planning my escape route for when the HVAC inevitably fell through the roof and disaster ensued.
That was about seven years ago and when the building vibrates I still think about how/if I would be able to get out.
The other night my dad and I went to a Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia. We had great seats: front row of the 300 level, just to the left of home plate; from my seat I looked straight down the first base line so we could see everything quite well. I hadn’t been to a game there in several years so it was nice to be back. Still, I spent a large part of the game imagining the absolute worst possible outcomes for the evening. Sitting in the upper deck I wondered how sturdy the construction of the place was. When the ballpark was built in the early 2000s, how did they calculate how much weight the upper deck would need to support? Did they do the math based on the weight of the average American? Is the average American heavier now than in 2004? Probably. So if they calculated on an old number, is the building strong enough to support all of us up there while we slam down hot dogs and cheesesteaks? It was windy that night and between the wind and the crowd you could sometimes feel the vibrations through the floor. I wondered multiple times what would happen if the upper deck collapsed. Would there be any chance of survival?
Thankfully people much smarter than me are responsible for the design and building of ballparks. I am pleased to report that we survived the game without incident and the Phillies beat the Mets (sorry, Uncle Phil).
Perhaps the worst places for me and my hyper vigilance are bridges. I do not trust bridges and for that I blame grad school, which introduced me to information like this. Basically 1 in 3 bridges in the United States are not as safe as they could be and in general the American public does not view this as a problem in need of immediate attention until a bridge collapses and people die. This is upsetting to say the least and the main reason that I drive quickly and talk to Jesus every time I cross a major bridge.
The worst bridge in my opinion is the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. I do not mean the bridge/tunnel - I have yet to experience that panic attack waiting to happen. The bridge I am referring to is the one near Annapolis which crosses a little over four miles of the bay way up in the air so that big ships can get through. It is very tall, has low guardrails, and makes a freaking hard right turn in the middle of it (or a hard left, depending on which way you’re going).
I have not done the research to know how structurally sound this bridge is because 1) I did enough research in college as a history major and I’m done now and 2) I don’t really want to know. The fact is that I have to drive across this bridge regularly enough that whether it’s in need of repair or not, I’m going over it. But never once have I gotten on this bridge without releasing to the universe the fact that I might die in the crossing.
Dramatic? Yes. But the fact is that it’s possible and somehow it makes my brain less itchy to just accept the fact of my impending death.
I am hyper vigilant. I see danger everywhere. Thanks to regular doses of controlled substances and a fair amount of therapy, most of the time I can shrug off the belief that I am about to die. But it is really acceptance of the fact that it’s true - I could die at any moment. (I’m not special in that, it is true of everyone.) It could be a new allergy developing out of nowhere or a bridge collapsing into the bay; the possibilities for demise are endless.
It sounds crazy I’m sure, but I think accepting the reality is actually better than trying to convince myself that I am perfectly safe. Do I hope that is true? Obviously, but I remain skeptical and on constant alert.
Sometimes it is annoying to forever see danger. It holds me back from potentially fun experiences. (I really want to try ziplining, but I’m pretty sure I would freak the hell out.) But in the end I’d rather be the way that I am, alert to the worst possibilities and being pleasantly surprised when the worst never happens. With any luck I will die of old age in my sleep, moving on to whatever comes next armed with a lifetime long list of ways I could have died, but didn’t. If that should happen, no one will be more surprised than me; but then again, I’m ready for any possible outcome.
