Pan ick

I awakened sometime during the night, the covers a tangled mess. I made a trip to the bathroom where nausea, cold sweats and woozieness came over me like gangbusters.

Panic attack. In the middle of the night. At least now it has a name.

Yesterday I felt the uneasiness creeping slowly like a cloud blocking the sun. Connie and I were heading toward the restaurant when I told her I could not do it. She brought me home. How I love Connie for understanding. She has witnessed more than one of my attacks, though the symptoms ebbed this time when I got home.

The first episode I remember clearly was at Connie's duplex in the early 1970s. She, her boyfriend and I were talking. I got up, went into the kitchen, and boom! I remember wondering if I were having a heart attack. Truly.

Panic attacks display similar symptoms. They wash over me. I feel like I am suffocating. My heart races. Usually I stumble to bed and lie there until I can get my breathing under control. Then I am a soggy mess.

I am unsure of the duration of these attacks. I am too busy being woozy. At the time, they seem to go on and on.

* * *

Observation: I made a hamburger for supper last night. It took four knives to do so: one for the onion, one for the mayonnaise, one for the cheese and one for the tomato.

* * *

This morning I am going to visit Bruce while Tanya runs some errands. Perhaps I will get a chance to read another chapter in the Woodward book. And of course receive a good dose of Al. Al does not know decorum.

* * *

I hope your Irish eyes smiled.

Later.