If I don’t trust ,I am learning I can continue to control or I will be taught lessons over and over to learn to trust.
I am tired, not tired but wrung inside out exhausted.
I was hospitalized Monday for a panic attack. I awoke after a terrible dream about my dad, with this pounding headache that sent me to the toilet to vomit violently, followed by chest pain and shortness of breath. I have never experienced this in my life. We decided I should go to the emergency room.
crying hysterical to the point I could not articulate words cognitively to get registered in at the emergency room, I just handed him my I.d. card. The emergency doctor came out to the waiting room to get me because I was such a mess.
After asking me questions I could nod to answer to find out what was going on, he explained that he thought,” I was having a panic attack, he was going to take precautions and do a e.k.g. and a chest xray to make sure nothing was physically wrong, and he was going to give me fluids and a strong anti anxiety medication, he explained that when anxiety builds it creates cluster headaches and that is what he thought was going on.”
I cried like I was in so much pain that people from the hospital and the doctor kept coming by to make sure I was okay and if I needed anything, I said, ” I don’t think you have a medication for a broken heart.”The crying felt involuntary and all I wanted was my dad. I called my parents home phone to hear his voice on the voice mail. I was devastated to hear that mom had disconnected her land line and had choosen to just use her cell phone. It makes total financial sense, I just wasn’t expecting to hear, ” duh, duh, duh, the number you have called is disconnected.” That is exactly how I felt disconnected.
Here I was laying in a fucking emergency room because my life sucks to the point it does largely because of my dad’s decision to end his life. The responsibilities thrown at me due to his suicide on my on top of my already overflowing plate. And all I want is him. Can someone fucking explain that to me? I had just been to that exact emergency room twice last week, actually the night before I was two doors down from the room I was currently in , after the ambulance was called during my daughter’s baby shower, she started vomiting blood and she was taken to the emergency room. Her esophagus is being deteriorated by the constant stomach acids from all the vomiting. That was causing the blood in her vomit.
After the anti anxiety medication started working I was able to explain my situation to the doctor without hysterically crying. He assured me anyone in my position and the trauma I have exerianced alone in the last six months would make anyone be prone to panic attacks. He was the kindest most empathetic doctor I have ever met, he himself brought me water and warm blankets and made sure I was okay the entire time. He told me ,” you have to take care of yourself too.” I know this, that is why I write. To get it out if me. To grieve.
I always over commit myself, that is on me. I have to accept that I have to ask for help, I get it! I have to not offer or say,’ no’ a lot right now. That is hard for me. I am learning. One moment at a time.