Did his insurance company not get the memo that his heart disease was discovered via autopsy?
My worst nightmare, basically, has come true. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just blankly blurt it out as if it doesn’t twist my insides into a million knots.
“Is this a panic attack?” you ask yourself. You know that a racing heart and a woozy head usually signify an intense head-on collision with panic is just around the corner — or is something else amiss?
Have an anxiety disorder? Hate being sick? Throw some cold meds into the mix and you might really end up feeling bonkers.
Why overload my body with a medicine that might be just as effective at half strength?
I’m dumping out my “nausea bag” for the world. Here are six more of my remedies for anxiety-related nausea.
I’m deathly afraid of the stomach virus to the point where I have a legitimate phobia of throwing up. Believe it or not, this fear is incredibly common, and it has a name: emetophobia.
The scene: a small road off of a two-lane state highway in the woods. The cell phone coverage: first none, then a single bar. My panic state: full blown.
I was laying down in my car, following the EMT-in-training’s instructions to avoid sitting up or moving around, and I was scared nearly to death. I shook, I gasped for air, and I palpitated.
I hated every single second that slowly and dreadfully crawled by. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even conjure up the energy or the clarity of mind to reach for my Ten Rules for Coping With Panic worksheet that lives in my wallet. I was in the middle of nowhere, I was stuck, and I couldn’t escape without help. Not only was I about to receive medical help, but I’d had to call my husband and ask him to drive 40 miles to be with me.
The word kept repeating in my head: failure failure failure.
Maybe I am having a legitimate medical problem instead of a panic attack. Maybe there’s a problem with my heart or my blood pressure. Maybe there’s a problem with my brain. Did I have a stroke? Maybe I’m having a stroke RIGHT NOW OH GOD WHAT THE HELL.
When your limbs are shaking uncontrollably, the gas pedal is a nightmare to control. My car heaved in fits and starts, thanks to my spasmodic right foot, but I didn’t make it far before I started to feel very cold and prickly.