Escape

It has been suggested that during this holiday season that I have an "escape" plan. This means:
1. not commiting myself to situations and events I really do not want to go to, and
2. only committing myself to those events where I can quickly and gracefully exit if I need to.

So, no parties, no receptions, no crowds of people moving around. No malls, or crowded movie theaters. My brain, everyone tells me, is still on overload. That's why I can't process lots of speech, sounds, color and movement all at the same time. The escape also goes for everyday hum-drum activities. Don't get into a long line at the grocery store because I may be ready to bolt before I get up to the cashier. Get out of the house at least once a day for something, even if it is a short walk. That's probably good advice for anyone, not just those of us who are grieving parents.

The importance of this plan becomes obvious today as I sit in a very cheerful dental hygenist's chair. Christmas music is playing and it isn't too long before I feel trapped. Sure enough I break out in a cold sweat and my heart begins thumping. Typical symptoms of a panic attack. Not too many places you can go when you are stuck in a dentist's chair so I focus on a dot on the ceiling and try to breathe deeply and slowly. Not too easy when you have ten fingers and a couple of metal prods in your mouth.

It is becoming evident that I need some medical help for these panic attacks, for my anxiety. A counselor I saw recently went through my behavioral changes since Colby passed. The either not sleeping or sleeping too much, the not eating or eating too much, the either not crying or crying too much. These are apparently classic signs of anxiety/panic and long term they can have devastating effects on my health.

My first response is to think that it doesn't matter, that long-term I will have no family. That's even true of the short term. What does it matter that in ten years I will be in bad health? There will be no one to care. Plus, I'd get to see Colby again that much earlier. But I quickly realize those thoughts are not normal, not healthy. A friend of Colby's has opened the door to a doctor who may help. With no medical insurance I now have to try to figure out how to pay for it. So I'll see. In the meantime I will plan my escape routes through the holidays. Come January, life should be a lot less stressful.