No More Secrets

I've had so many panic attacks over so many years that I don't remember them all individually. But some are so horrible, that they just stick out in your mind. The very first one I had, I remember vividly and have described it in a previous blog entry. The worst ones that I tend to have come after serious emotional turmoil and unrelenting stress.

I remember going to the library one day while I was on my lunch break. I was perfectly fine, and standing in line talking to my favorite librarian. He was checking out my books and videos, and all of a sudden, I just got this sick feeling. I mean, it just really hit me hard and fast. My hand started shaking and I felt dizzy, so I put my hands on the counter and leaned over it to steady myself. The librarian continued to chatter away and I felt depersonalization starting to set in, followed by a cold sweat (if that makes any sense -- I suspect it will to those of us who suffer from anxiety/panic attacks). By that time, I looked flushed, and the librarian asked if I was okay. I told him that I wasn't feeling so well, so he came from behind the counter to help me over to a nearby chair. By that time my teeth were chattering, and I do mean loudly.

Once he had me sitting in a chair, I was in full blown panic mode. My arms and legs were violently shaking, I was thrashing about and hyperventilating, and all of a sudden I was transformed into another world. I could hear him asking me if I was okay, but it sounded like I was inside a booth or something and he was talking to me from outside of it. Several people had started to gather around me by that time. They asked if I wanted them to to call someone for me, any after many desperate tries, I finally squeaked out a request for them to call my boss so she could drive me back to work. While they went to make the call, all hell broke loose and I began to have what looked like an epileptic seizure. The paramedics were called, and they came quickly, but could not calm me down. The next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance headed to the emergency room. They gave me oxygen and told me to try to slow my breathing down. I'm not sure what else they did because I couldn't really focus on them. I was in full blown panic attack hell.

When we got to the emergency room, they called my brother and sister, who both came right away. The panic attacks would stop for a few minutes, and then the next thing you know, I would be right back into one, shaking so violently that they had to strap me down on the gurney and continue to give me oxygen. I was there for about two hours as I continued to have one after another repeatedly. They gave me a sedative, and it eventually released me from the nightmare I was in. I cried and cried. I was humiliated. I was embarrased. My secret was no longer a secret. The whole library knew, everyone at my job knew. I was damaged goods. My brother drove me home, and I went to bed and slept for the remainder of the afternoon and early evening.

When I went in to work the next day, everybody gave me that look. You know the one -- the "I'm looking at you, but I don't want you to know that I'm looking at you" look. The "Did you know she's crazy?" look. The "Boy, did you hear what happened to her yesterday?" look. I was a walking nut factory. The joke of the building. When would I explode again? Life sucked for a really long time after that one.