Taken by Surprise.

The diagnosis has come in.
It's been determined that I suffer from extreme surprise anxiety.

Not only am I petrified with fright when people jump out at me from the darkness, I also find it difficult to successfully carry out a surprise for someone without becoming extremely jittery.

And let's not even mention my inability to maintain the smallest semblance of a poker face.

So this morning when I got it in my head to decorate my good buddy Hamm's Acura in celebration of her 22nd birthday, I knew the symptoms of my disease would flare up. For a split second, I contemplated taking a safer route. One that involved less sneakiness and therefore inner-turmoil.

But after remembering the 300 balloons she inflated for my 22nd birthday, I knew I had to 'woman up' and just get-r-done.

So I drove to our dealership, hoping she'd be safely seated in her new position at the cashier's desk and therefore out of sight, and crept across the parking lot with window markers in hand. I had scarcely written "Honk!! It's my birthday!" across the back windshield before I heard the familiar screech of the sales lot intercom from across the block.

"Ma'am.. Ma'am. Excuse me ma'am, is that your car?..", called a familiar but stern voice.

I knew full and well it was the service manager, trying to tease me, but that didn't stop my surprise anxiety from kicking in. Did he not recognize me from the distance?.. Was I doing something illegal without knowing it?? Had I started tagging the WRONG CAR!?? A part of me wanted to instantly drop to the ground and scurry for cover.

But somehow I managed to maintain my calm as I jokingly shook my fist at the service station window and laughed nervously.

Before long, I was finished. A lickety-split masterpiece had been created, parked alongside the curb just waiting for its owner to discover it. I was pleased with myself, but also (you guessed it) anxious about a myriad of things.

What if Hamm was irritated by my causing her extra window washing? What if the owner of my dealership saw the end result of my work and was offended by my usage of the word 'bangable'? What if the service manager really was angry??!.. (Something I had never before witnessed from the light-hearted man yet somehow instantly recognized as the only possibility.)

My heart fluttered nervously during the last few steps of my journey to the safety of my upstairs office desk, before jovial taunts from the service advisers returned my mind to ease. They had recognized me after all.

And better yet, the owner hadn't noticed and obviously wouldn't have cared if he did. Hamm was certainly going to be happily surprised and the world was right again.

I just hope she realizes what I put myself through.
I risked death from 'surprise anxiety' on her behalf.

And that is a very real concern.