I don't sweat. I never have. In fact, I can't.“You’re so lucky!” is the initial reaction I get from almost everyone, especially those who perspire profusely. But once the full consequences of this reality sink in, jealousy often changes to pity. Or at least a look that seems to say, “Man, you're weird.”
Sweating is the body's major means of thermoregulation. Simply put, sweat cools a person down. So what happens when one, such as myself, lacks the ability to sweat? Well, simply put, one overheats and one faints.
My mother and at least one of my sisters are in a similar predicament. Fortunately, however, they don't have the same kind of un-sweat-related stories to tell as I do.
My first memory of heat-induced fainting happened in grade 5 at the track and field meet. I was in line waiting for my turn to compete in high jump. Not feeling well, I asked the supervising teacher if I could go sit down inside. He said ok and as I walked away my legs kind gave way. I must have been stumbling about because the teacher noticed and ran up to me in time to catch me as I fell. A lady from the refreshment stand brought me some cold orange drink and I sat on the cool concrete in the school building. It wasn't too long until I was feeling better but I opted not to participate in any more events that day. I still came home with the same award I would have if I had finished all the events: a purple participation ribbon.
The next incident occurred when I was 14 years old in Thailand. I was walking in a crowded market place in Chiang Mai in the middle of the day with my father. I started to feel light headed and my vision was cutting in and out. I lost my balance and stumbled into a stand selling watches. I heard someone yelling at me from somewhere off in the distance, but I sure didn't care. Somehow my dad dragged me into an air conditioned Burger King and plopped me down on a cool bench. While he was getting a Pepsi from the counter I lost control of my bladder - the most embarrassing thing I could think of at the time. After about twenty minutes I was able to walk again and dad and I headed back to our guest house, after a quick wash up in the bathroom.
In the summer of 2003 I volunteered with an organization in Bosnia teaching English. At the end of our time there, the team traveled to the sea to spend a few days relaxing and regrouping before heading home. We took a bus with no A/C and whose windows didn't seem to open. I was fine for a while but hours of sitting on a warm bus with no sweat to cool myself down took its toll. When the bus stopped, the group I was traveling with headed left but I stumbled to the right, in the direction of what looked like a bathroom. I ignored the lady who was asking for money to use the facilities and almost fell face first in the sink. I wet my hands, face, neck, feet...whatever I though would help. It cooled me down enough to make it to the hotel where I rested for the remainder of the day while my friends headed to town to do some souvenir shopping.
Unfortunately the stories don’t end there. One day in the spring of 2005 while Darren and I were dating I got a terrible sunburn, some of the effects of which can still be seen today. Not fully realizing the extent of the burn and the heat it caused to build up inside my body, that evening we went out to see Darren's buddy's comedy show. Despite the A/C and the ice from Darren's drink I was melting on my skin, I was hot. When the show was over I begged Darren to take me home although he wanted to stay and chat with his friends. On the way back to the car, -you guessed it- I passed out from overheating. The incident happened to occur in front of a Lebanese restaurant, so Darren dragged me inside. The hostess got me some cold water, some of which I drank and some of which was poured on my head. Just as before, it wasn't long until we were on our way again.
Then on our honeymoon in the Dominican Republic, Darren and I went on a jungle safari where we stopped at a traditional home. It was beautiful but hot inside. As the guide was explaining the way the people who lived there would have made bread and ironed their clothes I could feel myself getting faint. I excused myself and went and sat outside where there was a breeze. But it was too late and the blackness overtook me. This time, however, Darren knew what to do: a little water on my head and I was (almost) as good as new.
There was another small incident at a Conley family picnic. A group of us were playing volleyball. Apparently I was too busy attempting not to embarrass myself or frustrate the real volleyball players with my lack of skill to notice how hot I was getting. But once I realized the imminent danger I was putting myself in, I found a nearby bench under the shade of a tree with a cool breeze blowing and lay down until I was myself again.
I wish that were the last incident. We arrived in Doha around midnight on August 13, 2008. The next day we were awakened early and taken to the college to gather our paperwork and then bussed to a medical facility for blood work. The men and women have separate facilities for the medicals, and although we took separate transportation to these facilities, we had to wait for each other to go to the next place for blood typing. The men took a very long time and the women waited for them in the bus, which was air conditioned but only to the extent a stationary vehicle can be. Then we were transported elsewhere for blood typing and again waited on the packed bus. While I didn’t ever lose consciousness, by the time we arrived back at the college for lunch, I was too hot and weak to do anything but wet my face with the lukewarm tap water in the washroom and sit on the concrete floor to try to cool down. Thankfully the administrator took pity on me and sent me to the hotel to sleep while Darren checked out our accommodation and went shopping for household necessities.
That brings us to the present.
Needless to say, I have to be careful when and where I go in the heat. But I'm lucky that the problem of overheating which I face is easily overcome, with minimal side effects (lingering headache, fatigue...no big deal). I’m also lucky that it’s something that can be easily treated and even prevented, provided I’m surrounded by people who work with me (giving me water, finding me shade) rather than against me (panicking, gathering around).
Reading through the incidents it’s easy to see how I’ve learned to deal with the situation. My body warns me before it passes out (usually I bloat up, start to itch, and turn red), and I’ve learned to take precautions such as carrying water with me wherever I go and avoiding extremely hot situations.
I certainly do not want to be foolish and put myself in situations where fainting is inevitable. On the other hand, I do not want to live in fear or miss out on experiences because I might get too hot.
I'm still working on this balance. On our first full day in Jordan, Darren and I had a city tour of Amman and then we were taken to the nearby city of Jerash to see the Roman ruins there. It was cold in the morning - I was wearing the warmest clothes I had brought. But when we arrived at Jerash it was significantly warmer (partly due to the lower altitude, and partly because the sun had come out). Walking from the parking lot to the entrance (Hadrian's gate - which is quite magnificent) just about did me in. My body was flashing me some of its warning signs, so rather than take the 2-hour guided walking tour of the unshaded ruins, I opted to sit in the car with the A/C on and read my book/doze. I made the right decision, but every now and then I second guess myself, afraid that I'm giving in to fear. (ironic, no?)
Two days later was THE day: Petra. Because of my experience at Jerash (and all the previous heat-caused incidents), I was afraid. But it turned out that for the entire tour of the main street I was actually cold. I was elated! I kept saying to Darren, “I’m freezing; isn’t that great!?”
We decided around 10:00 to climb the 1000 + stairs to the Monastery which was supposed to be breathtaking. I was fine for a while until the breeze quit and the sun moved higher in the sky, making the shade slowly disappear. All of a sudden I got scared. Thoughts such as, “What if I get too hot? What if I pass out? How will I get back down to ‘civilization’? This path is too narrow and steep for Darren to carry me down safely. How could I be so foolish to think I could climb this mountain?” went screaming through my head. But we proceeded, with caution. More than once I asked Daren to stop in a shady spot for me to sit a while. I dumped almost an entire bottle of water on myself on the way up. And at least twice I announced that I couldn't go any farther. But he persuaded me to continue, stopping whenever I felt I needed to.
I'm proud to report that I did make it to the top, where there was a cool breeze and plenty of shade. The sand that hadn’t seen the sun yet that day was cold and I buried my feet in it (feet are a good temperature regulator). While Darren ran around taking pictures of the site, I stood in the shade, sand up to my ankles, rejoicing to myself and being thankful. Although it sounds like nothing much, it was a big victory for me. I need to have positive experiences where I managed to do something ‘normal’ despite my abnormal heat sensitivities so that I have something to cling to next time – especially if I never, ever sweat.
Oh, and yes, the view was breathtaking:


























