That One Day I Discovered That I am Actually Dead

Every so often, people approach me and ask me if I am okay and if I need a drink of water or something to eat. These people tend to be people who rarely see me, concerned relatives, people I could sue if I passed out at that particular location, strangers, genuinely concerned friends, my teachers and professors, or medical professionals. This is because I am extremely pale. Not just a little bit pale. I look like an albino. The shade of foundation I would use would be called "Drowning Victim White." I have determined that I am approximately the same color as White-Out from a lack of sleep, lack of sunlight (I burn too easily to be out in the sun too long), the fact that I am a science major, and the idea that I might be dead.

I am not sure of my cause of death, but I would hope it would be something interesting such as sky-diving accident, chemistry lab gone wrong, caffeine overdose, or some sort of hallucination causing me to think I can fly and then falling out of a twelve-story window. However, none of these things have actually happened to me (yet), but I still think I might be dead. This is why:

Last year, in my AP Biology class, we were doing a lab to compare our blood pressure at rest and after exercising. I found my lab partner's blood pressures for her data, and she was trying to find mine. We spent the rest of the class period trying to find my blood pressure without luck. I could not stay after school to figure mine out, so I asked my teacher if he could help me find mine after class, which he agreed to do.

Keep in mind that finding someone's blood pressure does not take any skill. A four-year-old could probably do it if instructed correctly and he or she did not have A.D.D.

I sat down on the lab table and rolled up my sleeve. My teacher put the cuff on my arm, asking if I had initially put it on the right way, which I had. He tightened it and put the stethoscope to the crook of my elbow and pumped up the sphygmomanometer. It gripped my arm painfully tightly and I sat impatiently awaiting him to call me stupid and give me my blood pressure reading. However, as the cuff loosened and my teacher looked at the meter, a look of horror struck his face. He looked from the meter to me and back a few times in a disbelieving way. The cuff completely loosened and I started to undo the Velcro. "Wait! Stop!" he ordered, "I need to redo that one more time!" His face showed concern as he pumped it up again and let the air slowly come out. When the cuff loosened again, he took it off for me and laughed nervously, telling me that he could not find my blood pressure. The meter just kept dropping and he could not hear the blood in my arm at any point during the test.

I asked him if I am actually undead and if I still had to write up the lab. He told me to go to my next class, now. I guess that was a yes on both questions.

My dad has a blood pressure machine, so I decided to collect data at home after school. It was an electronic one that I knew worked for sure, and it did not have the human error aspect. It was impossible to mess it up. I strapped the cuff to my arm, following the diagram precisely. I held my arm in the correct position. I hit the on button and watched the numbers increase as the cuff tightened and decrease as it loosened. I watched the numbers quickly drop from 160 to 120 to 90 to 60 to 30 to...

Zero. The machine said zero. I couldn't believe my eyes. I retested it several times, with the same result FIVE TIMES IN A ROW. With that machine, I did not get any answer that was not zero.

Conveniently, I had a doctor's appointment later that day to get vaccines before going off to college. As the nurse was asking me questions, it occurred to me that she might be the best person to take my blood pressure and help me gather data for my lab.

Me: "Umm... Can you do me a favor? For my AP Biology class we were supposed to take our blood pressure and record results, comparing our cardiac fitness. My teacher, lab partner, and I were all unable to find my blood pressure, even with an electronic sphygmomanometer. Can you please help me out by taking my blood pressure? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Her: "Uh, sure. Are you sure you were doing it right?"

Me: "I'm not a moron. I know how to take blood pressure."

With that, I rolled up my sleeve, and she attached the cuff. Keep in mind I am horrified of needles, and I was at the doctor's office for shots. My blood pressure should have been through the roof.

She watched the needle move down the numbers. As they got smaller and smaller, her eyes got wider and wider. The needle hit zero.

That was a direct quote. I am not kidding.

She insisted on redoing the test. In the meantime, I was starting to actually freak out from all of the signs pointing to the fact that I am probably a vampire or zombie or whatever. After a few tries, she ended up getting a result. It turns out I had (and possibly still have) the blood pressure of a healthy kindergartener. At least we found a number.

The next day, when I told my AP Biology teacher this fact, he looked at me like I am completely insane, shook his head, and kind of walked away, laughing at me.

That is how I found out that when I am calm, I have the blood pressure of a dead body, and when I am having an anxiety attack, I have the blood pressure of a five-year-old.