My First Panic Attack

I experienced perhaps the scariest moment on my life Friday, December 11th. I woke up at 6:30 am, as part of my usual morning routine for a school day, and I jumped in the shower. It wasn’t long before I realized that something was not right inside of me—my chest felt tight as if someone were sitting on top of it. My breathing muscles were fighting to allow my lungs to inspire, but even the steam from the shower could not help them expand. Inside my mind, I knew that the key was to stay calm, so I tried to take deeper breaths, but they proved to be impossible. In a matter of about five minutes, my vision started to blur and dizziness set in.

Right at that moment, I heard David’s voice from somewhere in the bathroom, “Hey, babe, can I get in?” I replied yes. As soon as he opened the curtain, I managed to tell him what was happening to me. “Babe, I need you to help me not panic because I am having trouble breathing…oh, no…oh, no…” And that was the last thing I remember before the paramedics arrived to take me by ambulance to Chatham Hospital.

In the ER room, David told me what the horrible incident was like from his perspective. He said that I passed out in his arms and that my body went so limp that he couldn’t hold me up. I dropped to the floor of the tub like a ragdoll. My body was sheet white, my eyes wide open, and my mouth gaping wide, not breathing. He said he now knows what it would feel like to see me dead. He dragged me out of the shower and into the living room and called 911.

It troubled my soul greatly when the medical professionals could not find a sure cause for my episode of syncope. They ran an EKG, took blood, an X-ray and a CT scan. Everything came back normal. “Have you been under any type of stress lately?” the resident physician inquired. David briefly described that my parents had just divorced and that today was the day my mom was getting remarried. As he talked, my mind drifted back to yesterday when the reality of my mom’s choices hit me hard for the first time. As I looked on Facebook at her soon-to-be husband and two step-children all decorating their Christmas tree in their new house, tears of anger and sadness filled my eyes. I prayed about my sadness and talked to David about my thoughts before bed. I went to sleep in peace, and I woke up this morning in peace. I knew that during the episode this morning, I remained calm the whole time and was in my right mind up until the point everything went black. It did not resemble the panic attacks I have witnessed and read about. I didn’t buy it. Nevertheless, the doctor concluded that what I experienced most closely resembled an anxiety attack, for a lack of a better diagnosis. A panic attack, me? I've never been an anxious person.

I talked to my mom on the phone while I lay in the hospital bed. She was weeping and asking why I couldn’t just be happy for her. “For once in my life, I’m doing something that will make me happy.” After hearing that, I just wanted to let it all go and not let it affect me. I realized that if happiness is dependent on another person, that person will always fail you.  I told her I loved her and that I would be fine.

But as I got ready to go home, I was not fine. I was afraid to leave the hospital without the assurance that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. My chest still felt tight, and I was sincerely scared. I asked for some anti-anxiety meds to see if they might help my chest, and I was given a Xanax that knocked me out for hours. We slept at David’s parents’ house that night to avoid our apartment.

The next day the mysteriousness of what happened began to wear on me. I watched David play with his team in a soccer game and did some make-up school work, but in the back of my mind, I felt like something else caused my syncope that horrendous morning. My mother-in-law Anna asked me if I really thought it was from stress, and I replied, “If it was, I am shocked and overwhelmed by that explanation. It was so traumatic and I still don't feel right.” Yet it is a possibility. It is not every day your parents of 25 years get divorced. And I know I am one to suppress negative emotions, but wow, I had no idea that doing so could cause these symptoms.

That night, on the way back to the apartment, I felt afraid and even sick. My body hurt all over, and my chest was still tight. As we lay down to sleep, I sat up and told David that I was going to sleep sitting up so that I could breathe. This "anxiety" as it had been termed was more difficult than I ever imagined it could be. I went to India with a college friend to do work in a slum school in 2008, and she had intense panic syndrome, fibromyalgia and depression that I struggled to understand. I truly had compassion on her, but I did not know how to empathize. I did not know the all-encompassing depth of these diagnoses...but I was tasting some of it now.

In one of Jesus' last conversations with his disciples before leaving this world, he said, "Let not your hearts be troubled. Trust in God. Trust also in me..." He tells us not to allow our hearts to be fearful or worried because he can be trusted to provide for us here and the next life. Today, I am realizing that his wisdom is hard to practice when your world is crashing down all around you. Lord, help my heart to rest. I am simply in over my head.