ER: My Own Non-TV Show
Notes from my unhappy phyiscal has stayed with me, playing in that vast wasteland called my subconscious. I know this because the past few days I have stopped and taken my pulse for no good reason or stopped and thought to myself, "Gee, I wonder if that bp is dipping more towards the normal range." But I always move on, these thoughts being real yet fleeting.
Funny how the subconscious can hold onto something it thinks will really get your goat. Mine threw all of the medical cards in my face last night in the form of a raging anxiety attack. Of course, never having had an anxiety attack before, I just thought I was dying.
Heart racing, mind racing, heart racing faster. Entire left side gets heavy. Is my arm really tingly, or am I just getting hot and cold flashes? Heart racing even faster. I cannot even count the number of beats it's going so fast. Breathe. Relaaaaxx. Shit. Heart still beating faster and now I am light-headed. I am going to die. This sucks. Heart still racing and I am about to pass out, but I can't pass out because what if I don't wake-up?
All of this- and surely more- went racing through my mind for about 1.5 hours. As it got worse instead of better, I finally decided to call Rafferty, who raced over, let herself in, took my pulse (she's not a nurse, but can pretend to be one quite well) and announced that though she was sure this was an anxiety attack, for peace of mind we should go to the ER. I didn't really want to, but off to the hospital we went.
So I had to admit to the nurse that I drank more than 2 cups of coffee that night. And I wasn't hungry for dinner (but was starving at that point). And yes, I can admit that all of those things are possible triggers, especially when combined with the others. But it was scary nonetheless. Especially when the anxiety and subsequent reaction to the initial episode compounds matters.
There was no firm "this is because of stress and anxiety" diagnosis, but there's also nothing physically wrong with me. My EKG was stellar, even at the height of my attack. My chest x-rays are fine. They even ran blood tests to check for blood clots, and that came back negative. So...being diagnosed with a racing heart is a little ambiguous.
My heart rate eventually came down and, believe it or not, my blood pressure was down to a normal range for the last two hours I spent in the ER. (Someone tell my primary, please!) I am more tired than anything else right now.
It was an awful, terrible, wretched experience. I hated every minute of it. Thank god for Rafferty and all the good folks at my ER (including the hot orderly/nurse).
I see my doctor a week from tomorrow. I intend to share with her my feeling that if this happens again- especially if I'm traveling- I will not only be unhappy but perhaps screwed as well (depending on the country). Anyone who knows me well knows pill-popping is soooo not my thing. I hate medicating myself unless it's entirely necessary. In this instance, half a Xanax may be exactlty what would do the trick.
I am thankful I wasn't dying and am happy that I passed all of those tests with flying colors. It does make me wonder if this behavior modification thing might actually be unhappy for me, or if perhaps this has something to do with detoxing. Either way, it was awful. I'll opt for the TV show over my own visit any day of the week.
Funny how the subconscious can hold onto something it thinks will really get your goat. Mine threw all of the medical cards in my face last night in the form of a raging anxiety attack. Of course, never having had an anxiety attack before, I just thought I was dying.
Heart racing, mind racing, heart racing faster. Entire left side gets heavy. Is my arm really tingly, or am I just getting hot and cold flashes? Heart racing even faster. I cannot even count the number of beats it's going so fast. Breathe. Relaaaaxx. Shit. Heart still beating faster and now I am light-headed. I am going to die. This sucks. Heart still racing and I am about to pass out, but I can't pass out because what if I don't wake-up?
All of this- and surely more- went racing through my mind for about 1.5 hours. As it got worse instead of better, I finally decided to call Rafferty, who raced over, let herself in, took my pulse (she's not a nurse, but can pretend to be one quite well) and announced that though she was sure this was an anxiety attack, for peace of mind we should go to the ER. I didn't really want to, but off to the hospital we went.
So I had to admit to the nurse that I drank more than 2 cups of coffee that night. And I wasn't hungry for dinner (but was starving at that point). And yes, I can admit that all of those things are possible triggers, especially when combined with the others. But it was scary nonetheless. Especially when the anxiety and subsequent reaction to the initial episode compounds matters.
There was no firm "this is because of stress and anxiety" diagnosis, but there's also nothing physically wrong with me. My EKG was stellar, even at the height of my attack. My chest x-rays are fine. They even ran blood tests to check for blood clots, and that came back negative. So...being diagnosed with a racing heart is a little ambiguous.
My heart rate eventually came down and, believe it or not, my blood pressure was down to a normal range for the last two hours I spent in the ER. (Someone tell my primary, please!) I am more tired than anything else right now.
It was an awful, terrible, wretched experience. I hated every minute of it. Thank god for Rafferty and all the good folks at my ER (including the hot orderly/nurse).
I see my doctor a week from tomorrow. I intend to share with her my feeling that if this happens again- especially if I'm traveling- I will not only be unhappy but perhaps screwed as well (depending on the country). Anyone who knows me well knows pill-popping is soooo not my thing. I hate medicating myself unless it's entirely necessary. In this instance, half a Xanax may be exactlty what would do the trick.
I am thankful I wasn't dying and am happy that I passed all of those tests with flying colors. It does make me wonder if this behavior modification thing might actually be unhappy for me, or if perhaps this has something to do with detoxing. Either way, it was awful. I'll opt for the TV show over my own visit any day of the week.
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