Tom Petty was right

Published September 17, 2015 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

How did it feel?

I get that question a lot in reference to my head blowing up. ( Suffice it to say that anyone who says you can’t actually feel something that happens in the gray wrinklies, no offense intended to the elephants, is a big liar. I felt the whole impact of the blood vessel exploding

The AATGH asked me to remember what it felt like habing a tube shoved up my nose so he could ask me about it later.  This may seem benign, but he asked at the moment it was happening, approximately ten minutes after I was officially admitted into the hospital. (It was cold and a bit icky, but then so was AATGH)

I imagine that no one experiences things in the same way.  I try to keep my emotions on an even level so that I don’t have another incident, as The Mom calls it.  And I have heard that concentrating on a random point can help you calm down, like placing you fingertips on your arm and focus on the feel of your fingers on your arm and then the feel of your arm under your fingers. (I know, even my calm down sequence is complicated.

Right now I am trying to keep from having a panic attack, which used to feel like an extreme amount of worry, kind of like how you might feel if you knew one of the popular kids was going to pants you, but you didn’t know where or when, just that it was, indeed, going to happen.

As I have matured, so it seems, has my panic. Right now it’s the close of business on a Thursday. I’m trying not to freak out because I still have no steady source of income, although I am officially an employee of one school as a substitute, and I have a few follow up calls to make in the morning and I know there are a few freelance jobs I could scrounge, yet my panic is beginning a slow, whumpy crawl across my chestal region.  It kind of feels like your entire sweater has suddenly turned into a slightly snug turtleneck, it’s not a dangerous amount of pressure and I do recognize what it is. I can take an anti-freak out pill, but I kind of want to wait it out, especially when I have a lovely series of tiny itchy bites on my left arm, just under my fitbit. Something wee with sharp teeth bit me at rehearsal the other night.

So if I’m feeling the bites, what is the wee beast feeling? I think it’s probably ok, because I wasn’t loaded with anti anxiety drugs at the time.

Now I’m thinking about a mosquito wracked with stress and strife looking for some poor soul leaving the pharmacy with a new prescription.

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