The day Lorri left I had real mixed emotions, fear being one and a feeling of exhilaration. In the last few week I had done all the thing I’d be putting off and I felt ready to making it on my own at last. I was cooking again after a fashion and showering alone. I managed to brush my teeth with the help of an electric toothbrush and more importantly I was getting out shopping again. I was feeling confident in my ability to cope with life for the most part and I knew that time was on my side. I felt my emotions were beginning to subside a bit and I thought I was returning to myself again whoever that was. So I saw Lorraine off at the airport and returned to my life by myself for the first time in about four months.
But I was going though panic attacks as well only I didn’t know I was. On my daily walks through the neighborhood there were dogs running free and I was unsure how to deal with them. One morning we had a bit of rain, enough to wet the streets but not enough to stop my walk. As I rounded the midpoint of my route the smell of the wet pavement hit me and something came over me. Suddenly I began sweating, my arms and legs felt like rubber and I just knew something bad was about to happen. I thought of sitting and resting on the curb but I was convinced that if I sat down I’d never get up again.
This was new and I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and I felt like the air was trapped in my lungs. All I could do was keep walking or call Emergency Services and go to the hospital and have another bill added to the list. In the distance I spotted a bus bench up ahead and doggedly walk on with legs of rubber. Once seated I started trying to figure out what was going on, my hands were shaking and I felt so weak. By instinct I started breathing rhythmically and deeply while I tried to figure what in the smells I had reacted to. In the process I started to feel a little better so I when further down the street to the coffee shop I knew had a better bench. By the time I got there I was feeling less panicked and less shaky but I sat anyways. I realized the breathing was helping and I closed my eyes and concentrate on my breath. Slowly I felt everything returning to normal and I could feel my pulse slow back to a normal rhythm. Finally I pushed it out of my mind and walked on home to the safety of my apartment and forgot about it. I wondered briefly if it was heart related and just part of my condition. That is until about a week later as I rounded the corner to my house, suddenly I was in a panic to quickly get into the house and lock the doors. I made an appointment that day, I needed help figuring out what my problem was all about. Stroke patients are apparently advised to go on a anti-depression medication to help them cope with the travails of their new lives. I had always been proactive with my doctors and with my log of blood pressures I had an edge with talking to her. She knew that I was monitoring myself and not prone to random complaints. So another medication was added and it began to help but first I had to go though hell till it began to work in me. Deep dark feelings of despair and unworthiness, suicide fill my dreams for about a week. I read over the adverse reactions for my medication and realized that was it. But no wonder I don’t like medication and have been skeptical about the safety and efficacy ever since I can remember. But any port in a storm and I was in a maelstrom of emotions with which I couldn’t cope with and I needed the help.
(Part III)
But I was going though panic attacks as well only I didn’t know I was. On my daily walks through the neighborhood there were dogs running free and I was unsure how to deal with them. One morning we had a bit of rain, enough to wet the streets but not enough to stop my walk. As I rounded the midpoint of my route the smell of the wet pavement hit me and something came over me. Suddenly I began sweating, my arms and legs felt like rubber and I just knew something bad was about to happen. I thought of sitting and resting on the curb but I was convinced that if I sat down I’d never get up again.
This was new and I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and I felt like the air was trapped in my lungs. All I could do was keep walking or call Emergency Services and go to the hospital and have another bill added to the list. In the distance I spotted a bus bench up ahead and doggedly walk on with legs of rubber. Once seated I started trying to figure out what was going on, my hands were shaking and I felt so weak. By instinct I started breathing rhythmically and deeply while I tried to figure what in the smells I had reacted to. In the process I started to feel a little better so I when further down the street to the coffee shop I knew had a better bench. By the time I got there I was feeling less panicked and less shaky but I sat anyways. I realized the breathing was helping and I closed my eyes and concentrate on my breath. Slowly I felt everything returning to normal and I could feel my pulse slow back to a normal rhythm. Finally I pushed it out of my mind and walked on home to the safety of my apartment and forgot about it. I wondered briefly if it was heart related and just part of my condition. That is until about a week later as I rounded the corner to my house, suddenly I was in a panic to quickly get into the house and lock the doors. I made an appointment that day, I needed help figuring out what my problem was all about. Stroke patients are apparently advised to go on a anti-depression medication to help them cope with the travails of their new lives. I had always been proactive with my doctors and with my log of blood pressures I had an edge with talking to her. She knew that I was monitoring myself and not prone to random complaints. So another medication was added and it began to help but first I had to go though hell till it began to work in me. Deep dark feelings of despair and unworthiness, suicide fill my dreams for about a week. I read over the adverse reactions for my medication and realized that was it. But no wonder I don’t like medication and have been skeptical about the safety and efficacy ever since I can remember. But any port in a storm and I was in a maelstrom of emotions with which I couldn’t cope with and I needed the help.
(Part III)
4 comments:
Once again I am amazed by your boundless courage.
I refused to take medication to "help" with my recovery. The docs said I was a terrible patient, but I loathe pills, always have done. Truth be told, I'd rather be in pain than take medication. I really admire you sticking with the meds and working your way through all of that towards good health again.
I've never had a stroke, but I have panic attacks. It's a family trait to experience anxiety. You did the right thing. Breathe. Deep breathing and taking an action control these for me. If it happens in the night, I get up and write a list of things to do tomorrow. If it happens in the day, I do Pilates (stretching similar to yoga), which you might investigate. Like Lin, I have refused medication, but we all cope in our own ways.
The photograph is beautiful. It's a unique view of a lovely woman. Kudos to both of you. Keep up the great work.
One of the things I love about this image is I’ve “done” everything wrong. I cut off her head, arms, legs and back. And it’s not what you’d call a photogenic pose but I love it!
I like it, too, because it's so darned different. It's what I call riding the edge and making it work.
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