No one expects the Spanish Panic (attack)

I just watched Once Upon a Mattress today, so this post title makes total sense to me.  Humor me.

Anyway, the title is my witty segue into saying that I had my first panic attack in almost 2 years (and only my 3rd panic attack ever) tonight.  To explain why, I have to back up to Gus’s PT appointment yesterday.  His therapist was concerned that his back seemed worse and worried about the amount of pain he experiences when placed on his left side.  She suggested we see the orthopedist again soon, rather than in late May, as originally scheduled.  She said she’d go talk to him (they’re in the same building) and either call me or talk with me next week.  I didn’t think this was that big of a deal.  I just figured it meant another X-ray. 

Then today, the phone rang unexpectedly, and our pediatrician’s office was on the line.  After talking to the therapist, our orthopedist (who is also in the same building) walked down to the pediatrician’s office and said that Gus should get in for an MRI ASAP.  Apparently, our therapist is more worried than I realized, and the orthopedist doesn’t like the fact that he seems to be in pain.  I guess scoliosis is typically painless, and the presence of pain could indicate that something more nefarious is causing the scoliosis.

One of those more nefarious things?  Tumors.  Like maybe the spine tumors VHL patients get?  Um, yeah.  Now granted, this is only one of many possibilities, and VHL verrrrrry rarely manifests this young (and never has in my DH’s family), so it’s unlikely.  In fact, it could be that Gus’s fussiness during therapy, which is being interpreted as pain, is more from crankiness (he’s always nap deprived when we’re there) and there is nothing at all.  That’s probably the most likely scenario.  But just the possibility of all these other things is frightening  nonetheless.

Then to make things even better, one of the nurses from the MRI unit at Children’s Hospital, where Gus will be having the procedure done, called to get some intake information from me.  It turns out that because Gus has scoliosis, which can place pressure on the lungs, he may not be a candidate for the standard mild sedation they use on children.  He might need general anesthesia.  We won’t know for sure until tomorrow, but for some reason, this idea chills me to the bone.  Actually, I know exactly why it does: general anesthetic produces an unnatural stillness that, in my mind’s eye, looks too much like death. 

Which I did OK with at first.  I mean, really…adults, kids, and babies go under general all the time.  Yes, it’s a risk, but most of them come out just fine.  Getting in the car each day is a risk, too.  So I thought I was doing fine.  But then something got me thinking about it, and all I could do was keep picturing his motionless little body being slid into the tube.

And that did it for me.  I just lost it. 

Actually, at first I thought I was going to be OK.  I had some scary breathing, but I got it under control.  However, just as I had to post this here, I found myself needing to get into writing what had just happened, so I shared it in my journal on a message board.  In my post, I said that I was afraid if I was this freaked about an MRI that I was really going to go off the deep end if we get any bad news back.

And then I really lost it.

This time, there was no fending it off.  I was having a full-blown panic attack: hyperventilating, sobbing, heart racing.  And I knew that I HAD to talk to someone.  For some reason, I needed a human voice.  But Nate was still at work, and I knew he was crazy busy.  (He wouldn’t have been there if he wasn’t.)  So finally I gave in and called my mom, even though it was 11:30 her time (12:30 mine).  I didn’t want to because she gets up very early for work, and I knew she’d be in bed.  But she’d told me earlier today to call her at anytime, and well…she’s my mom.  So I called, and I could just barely croak out, “Mom, I’m having a panic attack.”  She was really wonderfully calm and talked me through it.  She kept entreating me to breathe deep, but I literally couldn’t do it at that moment.  Still, just hearing her voice was enough to help the attack subside after about a minute.  I was still kind of gulping and hiccuping at that point, but the worst was over.

It’s funny, though, how long the consequences of a panic attack last.  It’s been an hour and a half now, and I still don’t feel entirely back to myself.  My heartbeat is a bit fast and shallow, my head is swimming gently (with occasional moments of outright vertigo), I’m mildly nauseated, and my limbs feel tingly, heavy, and slightly numb.  But my mental panic has quieted down.  And for now, that’s good enough.