How fainting made me tough

The one and only time I fainted was in the middle of a soccer field.

I tried to fight it for as long as I could but perhaps with dwindling supply of oxygen to the brain, my vision slowly darkened until I slumped to the ground. I was 15 years old.

You're probably wondering why, if I was aware of what was happening, I didn't do anything not to keel over and preserve my dignity.

It was 10 o'clock in the morning. The sun was bearing down on us and the sky was bright blue, clear of clouds.

And there we were, maybe 24 of us junior high school kids, lined up in white t-shirt and blue jeans, sweat dripping down our face and backs, eyes front only, legs slightly spread apart, hands (palms open one on top of the other) on the small of our backs while trying to remain as still as possible. The position is known as 'parade rest.'

Obviously, it was a test of endurance. We were probably into the sixth month of the cadet training that would prepare us to be the next corps of officers in our senior year.

Needless to say, the training was brutal. That was just one of many tests that we were subjected to. And while it was a physical test, to survive it required a mentality of steel.

In hindsight, I knew I would've passed that under-the-sun test. Ten minutes more and it would have been over.

Alas, it was the second day of my monthly period. Shucks! And back then I would get unbearable cramps, a bad case of dysmenorrhea. Any one who's ever suffered from that condition understands how painful it can be, and sometimes no position, even lying down, is comfortable enough to make the pain go away.

It passes, after an hour or two, and you'll be back to your normal self. Unfortunately for me, that hour or two happened just as we were made to stand in the football field.

While the training officers were going around to check if we were okay, I don't think they really noticed that blood was slowly draining from my face (we were wearing caps) and I was turning ashen and my sweat was cold. Besides, each time they asked if we could still handle it, I shouted back, along with everyone else, 'Sir, yes, Sir!'

The brain's capacity is really wondrous. And surviving even the most challenging situations is really a work of the brain more than brawn. Eventually, the mind will instruct the body to fight even when physically, one is almost drained of energy.

And that's how I managed to hold on for as long as I did at that time. I willed my body to stay upright, to ignore the harsh rays of the sun, and the pain squeezing my insides until I just couldn't anymore.

To their credit, I think our training officers saw that I was swaying and ready to pitch forward just as I felt everything turn dark. But they weren't fast enough. I still crumpled to the ground as my knees gave way.

Through sheer will, my co-trainees still held their positions even when they realized I had dropped. Not sure if someone else fainted before me so they knew not to react.

I was brought to a bench under the shade of a tree, and remember sniffing ammonia passed under my nose. Oh yuck! That smell can really bring you back to your senses.

Even as I regained consciousness (it wasn't very long, perhaps 5 minutes), the pain in my abdomen was still gut-wrenching and considerably weakened me. I was escorted to the clinic and lay there for an hour. Can't recall if they made me take mefenamic acid for the pain.

Naturally, I was instructed to take the rest of the day off. No classes. And certainly no training. Still, I insisted I can manage to go home alone. No need to call my folks. They'd be worried enough when they saw me at the house in the middle of a school day.

I don't think I told them I fainted. Mother was aware I was prone to dysmenorrhea.

It was already early afternoon when the cramps finally subsided. By then, I was drained and just wanted to sleep. Yet, I knew that the next day, I would will myself to get up at 4:30 AM, shine my shoes and buckle, and join the early morning (6:00 AM) training with my co-trainees.

That was the kind of discipline drilled into us by that training. We had to overcome obstacles. We had to push ourselves even when it seems our bodies are ready to give up. And we had to be prepared for anything.

Yes, it was preparing us for war of some sort. But it was also preparing us for life. And I will always appreciate that experience. It toughened me up. And taught me to be more resourceful. And especially to care for others. We had to have each other's back every single time.

And it always reminded me that even with situations that may look impossible, I'd be able to do it by conditioning my mind.

Sure I learned to belly crawl, and swing on a rope, trample on mud, and even strip an M1-Garand rifle and put it back together in two minutes or less, even fire it (the recoil hurt!). Those are good memories.

But the best is the character I developed from all that we were made to go through. And we had to shed not just sweat, but also blood and tears to earn our stripes.

So when I think of high school, that training will forever be one of the most enjoyable and memorable experience for me.

Lead image from Unsplash