...the aftermath

I'm 28 years old, female, active, two children, only ever had minor medical problems. So what just happened to me?

I'm sitting in the ambulance. I've never been in an ambulance. I look around. The two female paramedics are talking to me. "Breathe into this." says one and hands me a paper bag. I do as she says. I am put on a heart rate monitor, blood pressure taken, temperature taken, all the while they are talking to me. "How old are your children?" "Do you work?" "How old are you?" "Any family nearby or help with the children?" I answer their questions then ask one of my own, "Are you sure it's just a panic attack...I mean...I thought I was having a heart attack. What is a panic attack?"

They look at each other and then at me. "You should consider going out to work like us, drop the kids off in the morning and pick them up in the evening - it's far less stressful then being a full time mum!" They laugh. "All your vital signs are normal. Take these paper bags with you. If you feel another one coming on, just breathe into it like you're doing now."

"Ok. Thank you. I feel bad for calling you out to a panic attack".
"You did the right thing." says one "They can be frightening when you don't know what's happening to you." I feel grateful to these two women. I don't know what they did, but with the simple words, "You're having a panic attack", the symptoms began to ease. By the time I was in the ambulance they had stopped. I'm aware of panic attacks, my brother suffered from them when he was a teenager. But my God, if that was what he went through each time... I must call him. Talk to him about it. Must call my mum, my sister. I need to talk to my boyfriend. Hold my children. Cry.