How Not to Die in Public: A Totally Unqualified Survival Guide

Because nothing says “main character energy” like getting benched at cardiac rehab.

There are moments in life when you feel powerful, radiant, unstoppable.

And then there are moments when your body says “Sit down, sweetheart” — and you end up slumped in what can only be described as the Big Ole Time-Out Recliner, pale as printer paper, desperately trying to pretend you’re fine while contemplating your entire existence.

Hi. It’s me. I’m the drama.

Let’s set the scene: I showed up to cardiac rehab like the responsible adult I am. Water bottle in hand. Positive attitude loaded. Stretchy pants on point.

Ten minutes in? I’m yeeted from the treadmill and gently deposited into the recliner of shame, holding back vomit while silently negotiating with the universe not to let me die in public.

Joint pain? Unholy. Blood pressure? Missing in action. My will to power through it? Hanging on by a thread and a poorly secured ponytail.

So in case you, too, find yourself unexpectedly starring in a low-budget medical episode, here’s my completely unqualified, moderately sarcastic guide to surviving it with your pride mostly intact.

Step 1: Always Pretend You Meant to Do That

Get wheeled to the corner? Slump into the recliner of defeat?

Just nod and say, “Ah yes, my throne awaits.”

Step 2: Glamour is a State of Mind

You may be pale, clammy, and one involuntary gag away from chaos — but with dry shampoo and lip gloss, you’re still out here serving “medical mystery with a touch of glam.”

Step 3: Nail the Exit Line

When the nurse asks how you’re doing, resist the urge to cry.

Instead, flash a weak smile and say, “Just vibing in my recliner. Living the dream.”

Step 4: Process Through Humor, Not Shame

Yes, I cried in the car. But first, I turned it into content.

Because if you don’t laugh about it, you’ll just sit there spiraling — and spiraling is cardio, which we’ve clearly had enough of.

Step 5: Journal the Chaos

Today’s prompt:

“What’s the most ridiculous moment that made you realize you’re stronger than you think?”

Bonus points if it involves medical-grade recliners and stubborn joints.

Step 6: Laugh Anyway

Even when your knees sound like bubble wrap.

Even when you feel like a human Jenga tower.

Even when the nurse hands you a puke bag like it’s a party favor.

Because humor might not fix it, but it sure as hell makes it feel less like a punishment.

So here’s to the ones who keep showing up — dizzy, sore, sidelined, and still making people laugh.

You’re not weak. You’re not dramatic.

You’re just navigating a body that didn’t read the manual.

And babe, that takes guts — and a recliner with lumbar support.

From the cardiac rehab time-out chair with love,

Jonesy