red letter day

So today was interesting. I got up to do a little internet crazy on my herniated disc which I have been treating like Pancreatic Cancer or Quadraplegia. I’ve made a huge catastrophe out of this for myself when even the worst outcomes are pretty good all things considered. But I got on the phone with a friend and he was trying to talk me back into the surgery (because I hadn’t officially postponed at that point) and BAM!
Before I knew it I was hyperventilating. Then I was feeling panic and then I had the mother of all panic attacks.
I mean I’d had anxiety attacks, but I’d never had a panic attack. It was like a seizure or something. Crazy! I felt like I was being electrocuted. My body was stiff. I could feel the tension in every muscle. Total freak out. Then I started feeling like I was having a heart attack and I was secretly glad because then I’d be off the hook. That’s fucked up. In my state of shock I managed to make a couple of calls. Left voice mail for D — he must love getting messages from me these days. Long gone are "hey, let’s go see that new Sophia Coppola movie." messages. Now he gets, "I know it’s anxiety but I feel like I’m having a heart attack. I didn’t overdose — I took one Valium. I’m so sorry I’m ruining our lives." Sweet, right?
I left a voice mail with my therapist and then I got my friend SHC on the phone. She lives close by so she was over in five minutes. By the time she got here my therapist (who usually takes a day or two to return calls) called me back. She walked me through it. Very interesting process but it took an hour (the bill for this). In the midst of it I was absolutely sure I was on my way to the psych ward. For sure, full bananas not coming back. I wanted that, too. I didn’t want to be — well anything — but least of all, not under constant psychiatric care. Like a concierge service but for neurotics.
And then it was over. And I have to say, I felt GREAT! I mean, except for the chest pains it was kind of amazing. It felt like I had just had this really intense work out — which I’ve missed so since all this back trouble started last January. I was impressed. I thought, "wow, my brain is actually going to kill me." And of course there were waves and waves of deep wrenching sadness in there, sadness for my old self — feeling my life was over — feeling deep shame that I had so little control of myself — feeling regret for every missed opportunity and overlooked joy. I realized I would totally chuck my career as a writer and work at Trader Joe’s if I could just have a normal spine. If I could just live a life without chronic pain.
And on top of it all, I totally caught a UTI from the jacuzzi at 24 hour fitness. Never again. I was doing swimming therapy and thought I’d hop in the ‘cuzzi. It’s in Glendale so it’s all Eastern Promises Style. Like guys wearing full hair sweaters. I’m by far the least freakish. A week of burning pee and I broke down and visited the doctor who was all like, "ew, you’re so gross. Here’s some antibiotics — and zero sympathy."
I’m going ahead with the conservative care route. I called and officially canceled the surgery. I can always reschedule if things don’t work out. But for now, I think I need to give this a shot. I just found a blog by a woman who did this same thing, her herniation was larger than mine, I’ve been giving it a read. Okay, off to bed and hopefully not a repeat of Friday.