Are seven out of ten morning commuters on Quaaludes, or is it because I drive sober that the weasels seem so spastic? Lately if there aren’t at least three misses on the way to work, I wonder if I’m even in the car.
Managed a simultaneous panic attack and heart burn flare up before reaching campus — a new medical event. For me, the issues generally erupt at different times. Both come with unique symptoms. When panic strikes, my pulse quickens; I breathe more frequently. Sucking too many breaths in a short period mean much less air reaches the lungs. And a lack of oxygen definitely aggravates the duration and severity of attacks. One feeds the other, ad infinitum, or until I calm down.
Heartburn is another beast. That’s more about discomfort than anything else, shooting pains in the esophagus, and what can feel like the chest. Both heartburn and panic strike whenever, but they always do so separately.
The morning’s episode changed the game play. Panic sent the heart charging to Baskerville, but the acid weighed down on the chest and limited the amount of breaths I could manage. Which is a big change from too many breaths crowding out the few quality ones. Here the culprit was not breathing at all.
Anyway, thirty ounces of cold water and ten minutes of silence dampened the symptoms quite a bit.