Panic Attack Abroad

Two months ago I went to the Bahamas. That same week before my flight, I was already anxious I could feel a full blown panic attack coming on. Normal people would be excited (to say the least) about an impending vacation. But not me. The silent torment and fear I felt was all I could bear, I contemplated on cancelling the whole thing. But I kept telling myself -I will never be able to do anything outside of my daily routine if I let this fear control me.

I kept asking God for a sign to stop me from going. No answer, So I went. Once inside the new DFW terminal I started to feel better. Nice restaurants serving a good choice of breakfast foods! This was my first time to fly out of the new terminal, it reminded me of the Hongkong airport-huge and nice but not quiet.

I was leisurely eating my ham and egg and sipping on my capuccino while talking to my friend in New Jersey. After we hang up I made a concentrated effort to convince myself that it is ok for myself to have fun--to enjoy this trip! I don't know when I picked up this baggage of feeling guilty everytime I am having fun. But lately, I discovered that my panic disorder came with a bonus--I just could not enjoy anything (whatever it is) without feeling guilty. I need someone to slap me over the head and tell me softly or loudly --it's ok, you have my permission to enjoy yourself. Why is that? My psychiatrist didn't get to answer this question because after our first meeting and he told me that I need to see him once a week at least for the first 2 months, I decided I was not that screwed up after all. Eighty dollars a week so he can look at me cross-eyed and pronounce me crazy?

On the flight to our stop-over in Fort Lauderdale, I was "normal" again and I wanted to preserve the feeling by watching a documentary about China, narrated by this solo traveler named Justine. See, she's a solo traveler too! I tried to encourage myself. I found that my portable dvd player can rescue me from pesty seatmates and/or upcoming panic attacks.

When we landed, I went to buy lunch. Why is it that it is either food or pills before I can feel comfortable in any given situation. I was not hungry, I just felt that it was time to take my food. I paced back and forth by the gate because I could see that the airplane taking me to the Bahamas was smaller than what I have been used to. This was my first time to fly on a small airplane. There were two flight attendants; a white woman and a male who looked Middle Eastern but his accent betrayed his looks. This also being my first time to go to the Bahamas, I was unfamiliar of a Bahamian accent. I was in a mix of frustration from trying to understand what he was saying and fear thinking he was Isaac's militant fanatical cousin. Oh, dear God, he's going to blow up this plane and I could not be identified by my dental records because as my stepson once told me he has more college degrees than I have teeth.

The sound of the airplanes' engine trying to get off the ground and act like it could not, made me pray more seriously. Lord, in between the choices of this plane crashing because of engine failure and being blown off by a terrorist, let it be the latter. At least, I will have the chance to try and have a scene with the hijacker then I can call and tell my daughter Chat some stories that she can relay to the news media. And knowing her, she would make up real good ones. Though posthumously, someone will see my name in print since I have been unlucky with publishing companies to get my book published. Lord, I am not asking for much, If I have to go down in flames, I want to make it loud too.

I was so focused in my prayer I did not notice the man seated next to me was drooling on my shoulder. Nor did I hear him snore. It made sense why his wife sat 2 rows away from him.

When we landed at Nassau, all I could think of was run to the counter of American airlines and see if I could get back on the plane and fly back to Dallas. I was by then not only very sad, but very anxious- I could feel I was about to black out. But I pressed on. I tried the breathing technique, I applied mind manipulation. Neither one worked. I got to the hotel and went to look for a restaurant - time to take my food. But the rice and the fried conch did not have power over my pounding and racing heartbeat. I held out taking my pill - telling myself instead, I can do this. I called my daughter and made her promise me that the next time I plan on another trip to make sure and tie me to a post and leave me there for dead.

With Gods' providence I managed my panic attack to a comfortable level. Also with Gods providence I got on the wrong bus. I was going to the botanical garden, instead I got on a bus going the opposite direction. (One thing about travelling alone, you can do just whatever you want to do.) The bus driver asked me if I wanted to go with Ava, his sister in-law who was also on the bus, after all, this was a Sunday. Thank God my shorts were not that short because Ava introduced me to the Pastor and he introduced me to the whole congregation. Look what Ava drag in here. I spent the whole day worshipping (and mostly eating) with them.

Needless to say, I managed to enjoy my weekend stay there even without anyone's permission. But Chat and I concluded that I don't have to spend all that money to have a panic attack abroad; for a lot less I could do it here locally. As often as I don't want it.