Another day another panic...

attack.

I know today is Wednesday and I know that its payday. I paid all the bills and budgeted for the month's groceries. I remembered to set aside money for birthday presents and even used a bit to 'treat' myself and my husband to a meal that we didn't cook ourselves. McDonalds at midnight. Payday is usually the only time we get to do this. We're broke after today, as usual.

I didn't know that I had a sleep study session scheduled for tonight. Despite having reminded myself ten times and written it down on paper and in my calender on my phone. Somehow, I forgot. The call from the nurse confirming my appointment was sudden and shocking. It rattled me.

I hate phone calls. The phone rings and it scares me. I never want to pick up, no matter who's calling. I took a look at the caller ID with trepidation and sure enough it was something I'd forgotten, something important, something urgent. Right away I'm wracked with nerves and guilt.

The appointment is set for 8:30pm tonight. It's a sleep study which means I have to spend all night away from home. I'm pms-ing and I'm tired from sleep deprivation. I'm so tired I just sit here and watch tv all day and night. The only energy being used in spurts to keep me calm and teetering on the edge of anxiety.

I woke up at 11pm last night. There's no way I'm going to stay awake till 8:30pm and if I do, I'm not going to sleep anytime tonight. I'd have to take a sleeping pill.

That would be fine, if it weren't for the fact that I've had a pain in my side for weeks now. When and if I take pills, the pain worsens. Either through some sort of digestion issue that's causing the pain or because my panicked brain is telling me to freak out because this pain is a sign of impending doom.

I feel crazy. I feel like a lunatic. Who can't go to sleep? What kind of person can't drive a mile down the road to get better? Who sits in pain for weeks at a time because they can't walk out their front door to get medical help? Who the fuck does this to themselves?

I do. Every day wondering what is wrong with me mentally, emotionally, physically. Am I in trouble? Am I doing permanent irreversible damage? What am I going to do? Immediately guilt sets in.

What about everyone else's feelings? My friends and family who love me and depend on me? What if because I couldn't go get checked out, I died.

And then a new wave of anxiety crashes over me like the ocean on a beach without the spray of relief at it's back. No sound, just pounding.

I tried calling to reschedule. I called twice. Both the nurses seemed irritated and impatient as I tried to explain my reason for not being able to mush myself out the door. After two failed attempts at seemingly bullshit excuses, I tell the truth. The first part, I'm agoraphobic, sounds lame even to my own ears. I hear myself say it as if I'm the one in scrubs listening to some lazy person on the phone making my day that much more difficult.

They stop to take a breath before explaining that I shouldn't have waited till the day of to cancel. They continue, also explaining that rescheduling is difficult and that the tech was specifically scheduled to come in for my session. "I can't get you an appointment until the end of the month," the second nurse says in a tone of absolution.

I try to wrack my brain, trying to figure out what day today is. Not so long ago, I knew exactly what day it was. Now I couldn't tell you if my life depended on it. She waits impatiently as my breath catches in my throat and I flail in my mind trying to calculate how long between now and the end of the month.

It sounds like I'm crying, because I am. I hate when I cry. I hate it even more when I can't stop it and people can hear me. Now she's either thinking I'm even more full of shit, trying to manipulate her, or that I'm pathetic. Maybe she's thinking all three.

"I have the 24th or the 26th available," she blurts out, clearly wanting to finish the call. I'm disrupting her day.

Guilt crashes, yet again. Now I'm in full panic and I hate myself more than she does. I can't even talk I'm gasping for air and choking while trying to choke down tears long enough to say, "I'm sorry...I'm having a panic attack...can I call back?"

The call ends. Now I sit here trying to swallow the wrecking ball in my throat. Another blurry day filled with lost potential and worry. It's 2pm and I don't know whether to stay awake or go to sleep. I don't know whether to cry or not. I don't know whether to feel sorry for myself or punish myself.

I think I'll turn the tv back on. I'll just drift into someone else's world for a while. I'll just distract. Just stay distracted until I'm so sleepy my vision vibrates, my stomach aches, and my eyes shut on their own. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Just maybe if I hold on for one more day, somehow it will all get better.

I hope your day is better.

Love,
Mery Ann