An Ever Present Help

I always return to this blog when I need to sort through my thoughts; to disentangle the frenzy of worries, impressions and emotions. Last time it was a loss in the family. This time a temporary derailment caused by some unexpected health issues. 

It all started with unexplained weight loss and shortness of breath, which I attributed to deconditioning due to a string of consecutive illnesses. (Viral pharyngitis followed by an upper respiratory tract infection followed by sinusitis). However, when I almost passed out waiting for the bus after work, I realized something was wrong.

The next day while working at the hospital, I had my first episode. Shortness of breath, dizziness/lightheadedness, rapid heartbeat, sweating, and tingling in the neck, abdomen and extremities. By God's grace I was at a nurse's station when the attack occurred. Instantly, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses assessing, taking vitals, and arranging transport to the ER.

The following few days were a roller coaster of blood tests, imaging, consults and conflicting diagnoses. The ER practitioner, after reviewing electrocardiograms, chest x-rays, blood tests, and asking about my busy schedule, promptly diagnosed me with a panic attack. I wrestled with the shock of her words. A panic attack? My pride rejected the thought. It conjured medieval images of hysteria and wandering womb.

I'm not an anxious person. Sure, I was working full time, taking an online class, volunteering with two different organizations, taking salsa lessons along with juggling church, small group, accountability group, road trips with our exchange student and the world of online dating, but I'm an organized person. I felt in control, albeit somewhat exhausted from the never-ending merry-go-round of to-do lists and activities.

My doctor, although agreeing that the symptoms were consistent with a panic attack, leaned more towards SVT (supraventricular tachycardia). It was common in young, otherwise healthy women, and could explain the heightened pulse with activity. I grasped at the possibility. Could it be that it was simply my heart? I understand that panick attacks are a real thing people suffer from. However, my pride couldn't accept the fact that my own body would betray me like that.

Throughout the ordeal I received many calls, e-mails, texts, and cards expressing well wishes and prayers. I'm blessed to have such a strong support network of friends, family, neighbors, coworkers and church members. I dropped my Linguistics class, took several days off work, and cancelled my social engagements. For five days I had to relearn how to stop, breathe, and do nothing except rest. I'd almost forgotten how. The hardest part was the anxiety of not knowing what was causing the attacks or when the next one would occur, leaving me helpless and gasping like a fish out of water.

On the nights when I lay awake stewing in fear, researching on my phone, and wondering what the true diagnosis was, God brought Psalm 46 to mind. "God is a refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear...God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns." This passage was my anchor in the midst of uncertainty.

I slowly started picking up the pieces of my derailed ego. I went back to work on restrictions. Weakened by the ordeal, I had to learn to ask for help and set limits. To explain to people why I couldn't take the stairs. Why I had to park at work instead of taking the bus. Why I always had to sit down and rest. Why I had to say no to tempting activities in favor of going home and resting instead.

After days of wrestling, I was finally able to lay aside my pride and make peace with the fact that these episodes might very well be panic attacks. If they are, I praise God because he used them to derail my prideful self-sufficiency and realize my dependence on Him. If it's my heart, He is equally sovereign and I know He will use this experience for His glory and my growth.