Around 10:30 am.
Outdoor Temperature: 44.4% F
Sunny and Cloudy
Woke up after the nights sleep but tired as usual. Made and drank a mug of Lipton tea with Soymilk and Turbinado sugar. Went upstairs to spend some time with our sparrow Chebougie. Sat on the chair by the window and noted that I had some slight heaviness and heavy breathing after climbing stairs. Finished tea, and went downstairs. Got dressed and with a cup of coffee in hand, wearing my light winter coat, harnessed doggy boy that is, our dog Spot, (who was making tapping sounds with his nails on the wooden floor, visibly overjoyed, anticipating his long overdue walk) and stepped outside. Although it was still cold outside, I felt I could undertake a small, careful around-the-house-walk. With the leash wrapped around my wrist, holding my warm cup of coffee in one hand and my walking stick chair (which also serves as a weapon against loose neighborhood dogs), I stepped down the stairs of our front yard, the dog pulling excitedly. The air outside felt clean, fresh and slightly cold. We walked up and down the street in front of the house while the doggy did his business. But quite soon, I began to feel the cold even though it felt good in the sun. After walking a little more I felt some anxiety, regarding the cold (I have cold intolerance) and returned home.
Then it was time to dismantle the little hill of frozen trash bags in the patio. Although hardly heavy, it was a daunting task to drag the two black trash bags packed with a few bags of the hill. I carefully and slowly dragged my trash torment up the very slight incline towards the community trash bin. Halfway there, I began to feel some shortness of breath and apprehension. Even though the trash bin is no more than 50 feet away, it seemed as if I were heading to Everest. The air began to feel colder, and slightly "chemical-like"(an aspect of air quality that I react to, usually with a dry cough and constriction of the throat, and difficulty breathing.) I noticed it but did not acknowledge it, in other words I ignored it, but yet it lingered on, adding to the apprehensive feelings and mounting dread. But dread of what?
The dread of The Foreboding was now becoming unmistakable. I well knew what would follow. The parking lot on my way to the bin was completely empty. Seeing it empty, devoid of any living being (even a squirrel, a bird or an eagle at times like these, is a God-send and a stabilizing sight) increased my anxiety. "I really should have had the new cell phone charged and ready for an emergency call," I chided myself for not affixing the SIM card into my new AT &T Go phone. I was now jittery and feeling physically weak. I tarried, anticipating the first intimation of fear, but the sun came out from behind a clump of clouds; its light and warmth blessing me with its support and friendship . With gratefulness, I responded "Ah, its nothing", "I'm fine," "Its just a bit cold," "Nothing to worry about," "It will go away," and it seemed to, until the moment I placed one of the black trash bags at the bottom of the bin, too afraid to lift it into the bin for fear the act might induce a racing heart and more trouble breathing. Panicky feelings began to come in faster, but like a school master scolding a student, I ordered myself to not give into weakness and fear. This helped in momentarily conquering the panicky feelings. Lifting up the other trash bag I tossed it into the bin. Shaky and weak but triumphant at my deed, I turned around and took a few steps towards my town-house. And then, it hit me. A full blown panic attack.
My knees began to feel weak and my legs to give. I couldn't get my attention away from the other symptoms to order my legs to stay strong, bear my weight and move along. My elbows weakened and my arms became limp. I looked up at the sky for solace and support. Saw a low flying plane, and waved to it in a desperate effort to make contact with some living being as well as to distract my attention from the oncoming symptoms. I have found that sometimes distracting away from the bodily and psycho-spiritual symptoms helps. I tried to scan the row of town-homes, hoping that I would see a neighbor. There was not a soul in sight. My heart began to pound. My face began to flush slightly. I began talking to myself, over the negative inner dialogue which kept repeating, "you are going to die," "right now", "right here," "your heart's going to give out." "there is no way out", "this time you are not going to make it." I felt locked in. I wanted to do a fast run to the house, but I couldn't. I felt myself rooting to the ground. "Only a few more feet, a few more steps, and I will be in the house," "hurry, hurry,"I kept saying to myself, while the "alerter" inside me persistently repeated that I was going to die. I rationalized that I would faint for a while before I died and that some one might, find and help me before I died. My hands were sweating, my feet cold, shortness of breath, and extremely weak in the upper body. My arms limp on my sides. I then had a mental image of myself collapsing without anyone to help in a lifeless parking lot. A part of me said to myself "Its only a few more feet, you can make it to the patio gate, just another foot, try, try, don't give up." But every foot stretching ahead of me seemed like the footprint of death. I felt like I was hyperventilating so I pulled my coat over my nose and mouth and took a few more steps. My heart continued to race. I felt like I was getting clobbered. Then I felt the urge to disassociate from my body, and allow my self with just my mind to race home; so what if my body couldn't?
Suddenly I heard honking and a red Ford Explorer nosed its way around the corner in my direction. It was my neighbor in his SUV. A vehicle that I had just admired while walking the dog, thinking how nice and friendly-dog like it looked and what a great price my neighbor had purchased it for - $6,000 for an odometer reading of 62,000.
A ray of hope of rescue pierced my brain, my mind and my heart. My neighbor pulled up to me and rolled down his window. He looked concerned. He was saying something but I didn't understand a word. His words sounded like stones tumbling around in a paper lined wooden box. I looked at him quizzically. He repeated what he had said. I began to feel some strength returning to my wobbly knees and leaded legs. His words began to sound right and make sense. They usually do, even though he has a thick accent. He talked about his wife spotting my lost cat. I focused my complete attention as well as my very being on his face. I knew I had to completely distract myself from myself. The only thing which seems to work at this stage of these panic episodes is eye to eye, soul to soul contact with kindly, and if not that, at the least, neutral humanity. Hearing about the past whereabouts about my Manx cat and knowing that help was now possible I felt myself normalizing and back in my ordinary, everyday reality and awareness as if the horrifying experience did not happen. After a few minutes, my neighbor drove away. I felt bonded with him somehow.
I walked into the house. Straight to the bathroom. The warm comfort of my home was immediately calming. I sat down on my desk and stared at the computer. Light tremors were still running in and through my hands, wrists, arms, knees, legs and my entire body. My face felt bruised and swollen. My head lighter. And best, I was still alive.
