Me: I had a panic attack on the way home.
The husband: Aww, baby! Are you ok?
Me: Now I am, I think.
The husband: Did you pull over? Were you hyperventilating?
Me: I did not pull over. I was hyperventilating. It came out of nowhere and suddenly I was freezing and then burning and my chest got all red and tight and my face flushed and I couldn’t breathe and my vision got spotty and my body tensed up and I choked a little bit.
The husband: But you didn’t pull over?
Me: I didn’t have the presence of mind to pull over. I decided to stay the course and just aim straight ahead.
The husband: I’m glad you made it home safe.
Me: I could feel my heart beating in my eyeballs.
I’m one of those people who hates throwing up and will do anything and everything I can to avoid it. A panic attack felt like choking back emotional vomit and only partly succeeding. As in a room where someone has just been physically ill, I drove the rest of the way home with the windows open.
Tonight the husband and I spent our normal Tuesday with some friends from church whose family has been through a serious health journey in the last few years. It was sobering and encouraging to hear their story and ask questions and blabber about our own recent experiences. We certainly aren’t in this alone, and for that we are thankful.
Tomorrow two of the sisters and our granny come to town. Dinner is here with the help of a dear friend (and neighbor!) and at 10:00 the husband and I will go over for the stealth MRI.
Thanks to our wonderful and expressive dog, here are some photos that capture my general disposition lately, and the husband’s: