Hearts and anxiety-filled minds.

"I’m taking my thoughts to a railway station
Put ’em on a train just to see what’s coming back
What’s coming back
It’s coming like a heart attack"
-The Jesus and Mary Chain, "Far Gone and Out"

If you've never had a panic attack, you may not be aware that it's not uncommon for a person to think they're having a heart attack.  That's what it was like for me the first time.  Shortness of breath, numbness, pain.  Things go swimmy and you're scared it's all going to turn black.  I ended up going to the hospital and everything.  I've only had one that was as bad as that in the ten years since, but some have come close.  Whatever your own personal concept of "pleasant" is, it's the exact opposite.  

One of the aftereffects of that first attack, besides becoming suddenly and painfully aware of my mortality much sooner than most people seem to, is that I also became a bit of a hypochondriac, especially as it pertained to my heart.  It turned OCD fairly quickly.  People close to me know I'm extra anxious about something when I cross my arms over my chest.  Any new detail or symptom I would learn about heart attack victims or heart disease in general, I immediately set to convincing myself one way or the other whether I was similarly afflicted.  I gave up soda and Soft Batch cookies because I'd had way too much of both that first night.  I stopped eating meat for two years, convinced that a single Big Bite from 7-11 would be my last meal.  I took up the habit of popping an aspirin any time I started to feel off because of commercials saying it could save my life.  Any time my hand hurts or my arm is sore, there's always a little prickle of "Aaaaahhh" that accompanies it in my head.  "Is my hand hurting because of the way I was sitting?  Because I fell asleep on it?  Or is it something else...?"  Followed by a round of internal nail-biting.  Likewise, anything dealing with hearts or the chest became anathema; to this day I can't watch the scene in Temple of Doom where Mola Ram rips the dude's heart.  Same thing with any of the Alien movies.  And though the song at the beginning of this story is one of my favorites of all time, and I love to sing along at the top of my lungs, you will always hear me go silent near the end of that first verse.

Now clearly there's a lot of issues going on there, but one that bothers me in particular is that I've spent so long now trying to remind myself every time I feel a panic attack coming on that "...that's all it is, a panic attack, I'm not about to keel over, I'll be all right, I just need to calm down," is that I'm now starting to worry that if something is or was seriously wrong with me that I might not get it taken care of in time.  I'll be honest.  I'm not in shape.  Am I morbidly obese, no, but I am overweight and I do lead a mostly sedentary lifestyle.   And yesterday morning, I felt some pains that weren't like any I'd experienced before and it freaked me the hell out.  It really did feel like it was coming from the center of my chest, not the all over uncomfortableness I've gotten used to working through.  If you've seen The Frighteners, it was like the ghost of Jake Busey was jamming his hand in to squeeze the life out of me.  It wasn't continuous, more like a series of quick twinges over the course of an hour or so.  All the same it put the fear of God in me and left me a wreck.  It took me back to that first night, not knowing whether to call for help, feeling completely lost and wondering if this was it and praying it wasn't.  I was pacing back and forth, looking at my phone and trying to decide if I should call my best friend and have her take me to the hospital, and how foolish I would feel if it was just another 'episode' and how expensive it would be and how there was no way I could pay for it.  I made all the usual promises to myself-- eat less junk food, exercise more, actually do the first two things this time.  It even occurred to me at one point that at the rate I was screaming at myself in my head, I was probably working towards a panic attack either way.  So I took three aspirin, curled up in the fetal position with my Nintendo DS on the couch and didn't move for the next three hours.  

Eventually I started feeling something approaching normal again, though I'm still not quite right yet.  Like right now, if you offered me a cookie/taco/burger/slice of pizza or whatever I'd turn it down.  There's still a twinge now and again but it's moved more towards the back, in the muscles.  I'm still concentrating on every sensation emanating from my left arm way too much, that however is a habit I don't know I'll be able to break any time soon. I'll probably go lie down in a little bit, I've had all of three hours of since yesterday.  First though I feel compelled to check out 'The 10 Hottest Titty Flopping Sex Scenes Of All Time.'  With any luck my guilt over surfing a webpage with such a scholarly title combined with...well, the ten hottest titty flopping sex scenes of all time will take my mind off all the other crap I've been dealing with.  Fingers crossed.  On the left hand anyway.