I’ve got to make some changes to my viewing habits. The doctor said that if I plan on watching any more Neat-Flicks, I need to find a place that sells portable hyperbaric chambers in Melbourne and buy one, because it might just save my life. Which is fair, in my opinion. I get shook way more easily than the average person, and I binge a lot, and that means a lot of season finales. Sometimes, there are mid-season finales. And the events contained without make me shake and lose my breath, literally. LITERALLY SHAKING.
I’m just a sensitive, emotional soul. When I see people, even fictional people, having major struggles and babies and fighting alien invasions, I get all worked up, I start to hyperventilate, and a few times now I’ve ended up in the ER on oxygen to help me not die. You know it’s serious when your doctor just straight-up tells you that you need an oxygen chamber in your living room, right next to where you watch quality television.
Just last night I had an episode, over an episode. I was reaching for my inhaler and everything. I was re-watching the series finale of season one of The Great Australian Trade-Off, which I totally shouldn’t have done, and the way Ryan preserved despite all those hardships and claimed the underdog victory against the odds, and all his family was there, and everyone was crying as he was awarded the trophy, and UGH! Now I’m thinking about all the reactions on Tweeter and I need my inhaler again.
Better: I need a hyperbaric chamber. My lungs are weak enough as it is, without my emotions causing me to get so choked up I kill myself.
That’s right: at some point, during a particularly emotional season finale, I might actually be able to tweet that I ‘#literallydied’. Or, I would have. I’m hoping a portable oxygen chamber means I can live for many more years and keep watching excellent television.