I almost became one of "them"

Them being people responsible for medical emergencies, and the train grinding to a halt at the next station, and thousands of people being late to pick children up from daycare.

A few months back a friend had been going on about a movie called The Human Centipede. Knowing I like horror films (keyword being horror), he suggested I watch it.

Okay, here's the thing, there's a MASSIVE DIFFERENCE between medical gore and downright, knockout, grossness and horror films. I can take blood and gore, provided I avert my eyes, even managing to sit through all five Final Destination films but I can't handle medical, gastronomy-based filth which is what The Human Centipede is.

I was watching the movie on the train ride home. There's a scene where the deranged surgeon begins to outline and sketch on a white board what he intends to do to his victims. It's disgusting.

Let me tell you something about me and graphic medical stuff. For as long as I can remember, if you show me anatomy charts detailing any function of any organ of the body, especially anything involving the reproductive system, I faint. Bag of bricks. Down for the count.

I can't even read the instructions for a certain feminine hygiene product without feeling the need to gasp for air and stick my head out a window.

I was a lot of fun in sex Ed.

While watching this scene, my brain went into repulsion-overload. I quickly stopped the movie but not before I began to feel all the symptoms that lead up to passing out.

So I peeled off all my clothes leaving me sitting on the train in a tank top in an effort to combat the clamminess. Then I leaned forward a bit to try to calm the light-headedness and the urge to vomit. None of what I was doing was working.

The train was heading into Whitby at this point so I knew I had to get off. I was so weak, I barely had enough strength to carry my stuff and negotiate the stairs. I know I definitely looked drunk as I made my way down to the doors and I guess I was pale enough to generate a few stares of concern as the train began to slow down. One woman did ask me if I was okay. I felt like the biggest tool. All this over a movie.

She helped onto the platform and kept a hand on my arm to steady me. I told her I was just feeling car sick. The cold air felt incredible. I just stood there inhaling deep breaths.

She gave me her cell number in case I still felt ill since she offered to drive me home, which I thought was incredibly kind. By the time the next train rolled in, I was right as rain.

I deleted that god-awful movie. Shit nearly killed me.

Note. I can't even bring myself to Google an image of the movie poster without feeling the need to stifle the urge to vomit.