Amy2Crazy
28-07-08, 05:17
Hello Everyone,
My name is Amy and I will be 34 next week. I have two children, boys, ages 11 and 14, who live with their father most of the year, and with me during the Summer (they are here now). I have suffered from a variety of anxiety related symptoms (though I didn't know that at the time) since I was a teenager. One of the more serious symptoms that plagued me began in 1998, a few months after I separated from my (now ex-) husband. I was out with a friend, celebrating her birthday. We had been drinking, and after we left the bar, we went to a restaurant and had breakfast. I ate a waffle, with strawberrys and syrup and whipped cream. After I had finished eating, I lit a cigarette and my friend and I sat there talking, when suddenly I felt really strange and faint. She said it looked like the color had drained out of my face. I couldn't sit up any longer, and told her I needed to go to the car. I only made it to the entry, where there was a bench, and I had to lay down on it. I instantly felt a bit better, so I sat back up. By the time I made it to the car I had to lay down again. On the way home, I told her I needed to pull over. We did, and after I purged all of the food I had just eaten, I felt better. This repeated several times over the next decade, maybe 10 times in all. All I knew was that I was having "spells" and my blood pressure and blood sugar (one of my best friends is diabetic and tested me during a spell) were fine. In late 2005, I graduated from college with a degree in Criminal Justice/Psychology (the psych was minor, needed three more classes for the major and ran out of money). I basically was forced to graduate because I had reached the limit on my financial aid. Had I had my way, I would have gone to school forever. After graduating, I moved to be closer to my children. I had been driving about 1000 miles round trip at least once a month to see them. Now, in 2005, that wasn't such an expensive prospect, but now.... So, I moved to be closer. My father had bought a house for me while I was going to school, and we "flipped" it and I lived for a year off of the profits. I met a really wonderful man (on Myspace of all places - and he was four blocks away) around my birthday in 2006, around the time that the money ran out. I had to either get a job or move back 500 miles away, so I got a job as an administrator for several group homes for developmentally disabled adults. That is probably when the chest pains started, though they were on the surface so I never thought, at that time, that I was having any sort of "cardiac event". I had a boss who was really awful (mean spirited, would tell you to do something and then ask why you did it), and I was under (what I considered) crushing amounts of responsibility at work. The group homes were state and federally licensed medical facilities that serviced clients ranging from Mild to Severe Mental Retardation (MR). I was on call every minute, night or day, so I always felt like I would get a call at any second from one of my staff (I had between 20-30 at any time, it was hard to keep people so I was usually short staffed) and have to get up and leave, so I had considerable situational anxiety due to that. After a while, I requested a transfer to be the head of another division of the company, which provided day care for all of the clients of the company (there were 42) monday - friday. I was no longer on call, but I was constantly responsible for 42 people, whose physical disabilities and mental illness were often as bad or worse than the developmental, and I often had to call for an ambulance or diffuse a large, angry male who could easily hurt me, one of my staff (I only had 6), or one of the other clients. After two months, I quit. I sat at home for two months after that and played video games on my computer. I didn't go out much, I didn't do much of anything, and the last thing I wanted was to go through that ever again. In December 2007, I got a call from a woman who had worked with me (she only lasted two months) and who owned her own group home, which is about an hour drive from where I live. She offered me a position at her group home, working a 50 - hour shift, and then being off work for 5 days. I would only be paid for 40 hours, since at least 16 of the 50 hours was spent sleeping. So basically, I would work two days and then be off for 5. I liked working with her (though she can be overly critical, and has a way of talking to some people - not me - that lets them know she thinks they are idiots), so I took the job. I was basically second in command under her, and then under me was her 85 year old mother (honestly the nicest, least judgmental person I've ever met in my life), who was our House Manager, another lady who was the Assistant House Manager, and one Direct Care staff. The responsibilities were spread around very well, so no one person had too much. Also, the clients are great and have almost no behavioral issues and only a few medical issues. It was my dream job. After I quit my last job, I had moved in with my boyfriend and his roommate (not the most ideal situation), and then in March of this year, we got a house together. The kids were here every other weekend, and we would all have a great time playing video and board games together, and amassing a collection of tropical fish. Everything was perfect.
Then I found out my children were moving, to Houston (which is 300 miles away from here, and one of the biggest, most crime-ridden cities in the U.S.). There had been talk for years about my ex-husband moving to Houston to be near his parents, but it had never materialized. So, when I picked them up for Mother's Day weekend, and they told me that when I picked them up for the summer in 3 weeks, their dad and his wife were moving and I would have to return them to him in Houston at the end of the Summer, I was shocked. That Saturday night, I was sitting playing a video game with my boyfriend, when I felt this weird pain in my chest, and it felt like something had flipped over. I started feeling dizzy, as though I were having one of the previously mentioned spells. I went and laid down in bed and felt a bit better, then went to sleep. The following week, I went to see my doctor (which, not having insurance, is getting VERY expensive). I really felt like he ignored me completely. He told me he thought I was having smoking related lung issues, gave me antibiotics for the "probable lung infection" that was causing my chest pain, and an albuterol inhaler. I used this for a few weeks, and thought it was helping (now I think the effect was psychological). That week, on my second morning at work (I should mention that the 50-hour shift was almost insurmountable to me, I felt like I would never get to leave), I started feeling like there was a frog jumping around in my chest. I checked my blood pressure, and it looked like there were beats missing, though the monitor didn't have an irregular heartbeat detector, so I couldn't be sure. It stopped after about a half hour, but that evening it started again, so that night the house manager said I could go home and she would cover the rest of my shift. I got home and started researching, and saw that it was palpitations. One site said that if it didn't go away after 20 minutes, I should seek medical attention. It had been going on for about 7 hours at this point. Trip number one to the ER. They said I was having PVCs (Premature Ventricular Contractions, aka ectopic beats) due to Hypokalemia, or low potassium. Research about this informed me that hypokalemia related heart failure is what most anorexics DIE from. I was terrified, and became obsessive about reading labels and eating as much potassium as possible. At this point, I didn't want to go back to my doctor, as I had also discovered that albuterol, which he had given me in spite of my descriptions of something flipping around in my chest, can cause PVCs, and was frustrated that he was blaming it all on smoking.
Then, the Tuesday after going to the ER, I got a call from the group home that our house manager (the boss' mother), who was certainly elderly but not unhealthy or inactive, had passed away unexpectedly. I was, of course, saddened by her loss, as I've mentioned that she was one of the few truly good people I've ever known, but I was also tasked with holding everything together at the group home after this tragedy. The week following the funeral, our assistant house manager stopped coming to work, and the week after that she quit. I went from a two day a week dream job, to a 4 day a week nightmare. We were lucky enough to find one temp and one permanent (hopefully) employee to cover the extra shifts, and then it was time for the kids to come back from staying with my parents. I told my boss that I absolutely couldn't work overnight while they were here, as my boyfriend also worked overnight and there would be one day a week where the boys would have been completely alone. Then, almost out of nowhere, my boyfriend was offered a full time job at the radio station where he'd worked part time for 13 years. That made things better, but I was still having almost daily anxiety attacks, and couldn't face going to work for such a long shift. I told my boss, and we tentatively worked out a deal where I would come in two days a week and work 12 hours each day. A serious cut in hours and pay, but I felt like I had to. She said she would find someone to cover the other 24 hours when I wasn't there. I've agreed to continue to work one 25 hour shift (getting paid for 20) until she can find someone. Last Friday, I got off work and drove home (almost got into a wreck on hour long drive). I didn't feel very good all day, and my chest was hurting. That evening, my chest was hurting and I felt the need to lay down, and when I did I got really hot and sweaty and felt nauseous. Trip number two to the ER. Like before, they did EKG, ECG, chest xray, CBC, CMP (I am not 100% sure what all those letters mean), and everything came back normal (including my potassium). They found absolutely nothing wrong, and one of the docs said "How many times are you going to come back here before you go to your doctor?" Keep in mind, this was only my 2nd visit. I went home, this time without any instructions or prescriptions, and felt even worse. I knew I needed to call my doctor, but I was still resistant because of the previous treatment. On wednesday, however, I was sitting right here on my bed on my laptop, when I felt my heart start racing. I got up and went to check my blood pressure, about 50 feet away, and by the time I got there I was completely out of breath. My blood pressure was 161/92 and my pulse was 144. I called my boyfriend, who rushed home, and called my doctor and begged for him to see me that day. I was told that, because of my pulse, I needed to go to the ER (and to a specific ER because, as the nurse told me, "they have the facilities for surgery") I was absolutely terrified. Trip number three to the ER. Hopefully the last. Again, EKG, etc, and nothing was wrong. While I was still in the ER, I called and set up an appointment for the next day, and called my boss and told her I wouldn't be in this week. The next day, my doctor was a little more willing to listen to me, and had the lab results for all three ER visits. He told me that my potassium had barely even been low on the first visit, and that I needed to stop reading labels. We discussed anxiety, and he has prescribed Celexa (20 mg for 8 days then 40 mg). I am on day 3 on the Celexa, and no help yet. I think I need something to take during the attacks to stop it, but he was resistant to that idea. The attacks are happening 4 or 5 times a day, last anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour. I will just be sitting here, and start feeling pain in my chest. It is a squeezing pressure that hurts, just behind my left breast and under my left arm. Sometimes I will have chest pain that moves all over. I have pain in my shoulders and neck. Sometimes the pain will be sharp, sometimes dull. It ranges from a 2-6 on the pain scale. I will get a flush of heat or iciness all over, and then I will get dizzy, and then I will panic. I feel nauseous.
Of course, every time it happened, I would get online and google my symptoms. For some reason, it didn't show panic disorder at first, or perhaps I ignored it. I was starting to think that I was a hypochondriac and merely reacting to the death of a friend and co-worker, but that doesn't play out because I had the palpitations before she passed away. I also have a million other symptoms. In fact, there are few panic disorder symptoms that I don't have. And, always, that nagging little voice that says it is my heart, that there is a blockage, that I am going to die. I am so scared, and I am so tired of being scared. I have become obsessed with Houston, and the fact that my children are moving there. They are coming from a small country town, and when their dad or stepmother has enough of them, they just go outside and play in the big yard. Where are they going to play now? They are going to live in an apartment, where there aren't any yards. The area where they are moving has 1200 people per square mile. Then, that thinking kicks in the cycle again...chest pain, flush, dizziness, fear...This is the most awful thing I've ever experienced, and I've experienced some awfully awful things in my life.
I am so sorry this ended up so long. Once I got started, I kept having to add in other stuff. This took me about 3 hours to type, but I do feel a bit better after laying it all out. Thank you all so much for having this place, it has been what has been keeping me together the last two days, reading the posts on the forum.
Always,
Amy
My name is Amy and I will be 34 next week. I have two children, boys, ages 11 and 14, who live with their father most of the year, and with me during the Summer (they are here now). I have suffered from a variety of anxiety related symptoms (though I didn't know that at the time) since I was a teenager. One of the more serious symptoms that plagued me began in 1998, a few months after I separated from my (now ex-) husband. I was out with a friend, celebrating her birthday. We had been drinking, and after we left the bar, we went to a restaurant and had breakfast. I ate a waffle, with strawberrys and syrup and whipped cream. After I had finished eating, I lit a cigarette and my friend and I sat there talking, when suddenly I felt really strange and faint. She said it looked like the color had drained out of my face. I couldn't sit up any longer, and told her I needed to go to the car. I only made it to the entry, where there was a bench, and I had to lay down on it. I instantly felt a bit better, so I sat back up. By the time I made it to the car I had to lay down again. On the way home, I told her I needed to pull over. We did, and after I purged all of the food I had just eaten, I felt better. This repeated several times over the next decade, maybe 10 times in all. All I knew was that I was having "spells" and my blood pressure and blood sugar (one of my best friends is diabetic and tested me during a spell) were fine. In late 2005, I graduated from college with a degree in Criminal Justice/Psychology (the psych was minor, needed three more classes for the major and ran out of money). I basically was forced to graduate because I had reached the limit on my financial aid. Had I had my way, I would have gone to school forever. After graduating, I moved to be closer to my children. I had been driving about 1000 miles round trip at least once a month to see them. Now, in 2005, that wasn't such an expensive prospect, but now.... So, I moved to be closer. My father had bought a house for me while I was going to school, and we "flipped" it and I lived for a year off of the profits. I met a really wonderful man (on Myspace of all places - and he was four blocks away) around my birthday in 2006, around the time that the money ran out. I had to either get a job or move back 500 miles away, so I got a job as an administrator for several group homes for developmentally disabled adults. That is probably when the chest pains started, though they were on the surface so I never thought, at that time, that I was having any sort of "cardiac event". I had a boss who was really awful (mean spirited, would tell you to do something and then ask why you did it), and I was under (what I considered) crushing amounts of responsibility at work. The group homes were state and federally licensed medical facilities that serviced clients ranging from Mild to Severe Mental Retardation (MR). I was on call every minute, night or day, so I always felt like I would get a call at any second from one of my staff (I had between 20-30 at any time, it was hard to keep people so I was usually short staffed) and have to get up and leave, so I had considerable situational anxiety due to that. After a while, I requested a transfer to be the head of another division of the company, which provided day care for all of the clients of the company (there were 42) monday - friday. I was no longer on call, but I was constantly responsible for 42 people, whose physical disabilities and mental illness were often as bad or worse than the developmental, and I often had to call for an ambulance or diffuse a large, angry male who could easily hurt me, one of my staff (I only had 6), or one of the other clients. After two months, I quit. I sat at home for two months after that and played video games on my computer. I didn't go out much, I didn't do much of anything, and the last thing I wanted was to go through that ever again. In December 2007, I got a call from a woman who had worked with me (she only lasted two months) and who owned her own group home, which is about an hour drive from where I live. She offered me a position at her group home, working a 50 - hour shift, and then being off work for 5 days. I would only be paid for 40 hours, since at least 16 of the 50 hours was spent sleeping. So basically, I would work two days and then be off for 5. I liked working with her (though she can be overly critical, and has a way of talking to some people - not me - that lets them know she thinks they are idiots), so I took the job. I was basically second in command under her, and then under me was her 85 year old mother (honestly the nicest, least judgmental person I've ever met in my life), who was our House Manager, another lady who was the Assistant House Manager, and one Direct Care staff. The responsibilities were spread around very well, so no one person had too much. Also, the clients are great and have almost no behavioral issues and only a few medical issues. It was my dream job. After I quit my last job, I had moved in with my boyfriend and his roommate (not the most ideal situation), and then in March of this year, we got a house together. The kids were here every other weekend, and we would all have a great time playing video and board games together, and amassing a collection of tropical fish. Everything was perfect.
Then I found out my children were moving, to Houston (which is 300 miles away from here, and one of the biggest, most crime-ridden cities in the U.S.). There had been talk for years about my ex-husband moving to Houston to be near his parents, but it had never materialized. So, when I picked them up for Mother's Day weekend, and they told me that when I picked them up for the summer in 3 weeks, their dad and his wife were moving and I would have to return them to him in Houston at the end of the Summer, I was shocked. That Saturday night, I was sitting playing a video game with my boyfriend, when I felt this weird pain in my chest, and it felt like something had flipped over. I started feeling dizzy, as though I were having one of the previously mentioned spells. I went and laid down in bed and felt a bit better, then went to sleep. The following week, I went to see my doctor (which, not having insurance, is getting VERY expensive). I really felt like he ignored me completely. He told me he thought I was having smoking related lung issues, gave me antibiotics for the "probable lung infection" that was causing my chest pain, and an albuterol inhaler. I used this for a few weeks, and thought it was helping (now I think the effect was psychological). That week, on my second morning at work (I should mention that the 50-hour shift was almost insurmountable to me, I felt like I would never get to leave), I started feeling like there was a frog jumping around in my chest. I checked my blood pressure, and it looked like there were beats missing, though the monitor didn't have an irregular heartbeat detector, so I couldn't be sure. It stopped after about a half hour, but that evening it started again, so that night the house manager said I could go home and she would cover the rest of my shift. I got home and started researching, and saw that it was palpitations. One site said that if it didn't go away after 20 minutes, I should seek medical attention. It had been going on for about 7 hours at this point. Trip number one to the ER. They said I was having PVCs (Premature Ventricular Contractions, aka ectopic beats) due to Hypokalemia, or low potassium. Research about this informed me that hypokalemia related heart failure is what most anorexics DIE from. I was terrified, and became obsessive about reading labels and eating as much potassium as possible. At this point, I didn't want to go back to my doctor, as I had also discovered that albuterol, which he had given me in spite of my descriptions of something flipping around in my chest, can cause PVCs, and was frustrated that he was blaming it all on smoking.
Then, the Tuesday after going to the ER, I got a call from the group home that our house manager (the boss' mother), who was certainly elderly but not unhealthy or inactive, had passed away unexpectedly. I was, of course, saddened by her loss, as I've mentioned that she was one of the few truly good people I've ever known, but I was also tasked with holding everything together at the group home after this tragedy. The week following the funeral, our assistant house manager stopped coming to work, and the week after that she quit. I went from a two day a week dream job, to a 4 day a week nightmare. We were lucky enough to find one temp and one permanent (hopefully) employee to cover the extra shifts, and then it was time for the kids to come back from staying with my parents. I told my boss that I absolutely couldn't work overnight while they were here, as my boyfriend also worked overnight and there would be one day a week where the boys would have been completely alone. Then, almost out of nowhere, my boyfriend was offered a full time job at the radio station where he'd worked part time for 13 years. That made things better, but I was still having almost daily anxiety attacks, and couldn't face going to work for such a long shift. I told my boss, and we tentatively worked out a deal where I would come in two days a week and work 12 hours each day. A serious cut in hours and pay, but I felt like I had to. She said she would find someone to cover the other 24 hours when I wasn't there. I've agreed to continue to work one 25 hour shift (getting paid for 20) until she can find someone. Last Friday, I got off work and drove home (almost got into a wreck on hour long drive). I didn't feel very good all day, and my chest was hurting. That evening, my chest was hurting and I felt the need to lay down, and when I did I got really hot and sweaty and felt nauseous. Trip number two to the ER. Like before, they did EKG, ECG, chest xray, CBC, CMP (I am not 100% sure what all those letters mean), and everything came back normal (including my potassium). They found absolutely nothing wrong, and one of the docs said "How many times are you going to come back here before you go to your doctor?" Keep in mind, this was only my 2nd visit. I went home, this time without any instructions or prescriptions, and felt even worse. I knew I needed to call my doctor, but I was still resistant because of the previous treatment. On wednesday, however, I was sitting right here on my bed on my laptop, when I felt my heart start racing. I got up and went to check my blood pressure, about 50 feet away, and by the time I got there I was completely out of breath. My blood pressure was 161/92 and my pulse was 144. I called my boyfriend, who rushed home, and called my doctor and begged for him to see me that day. I was told that, because of my pulse, I needed to go to the ER (and to a specific ER because, as the nurse told me, "they have the facilities for surgery") I was absolutely terrified. Trip number three to the ER. Hopefully the last. Again, EKG, etc, and nothing was wrong. While I was still in the ER, I called and set up an appointment for the next day, and called my boss and told her I wouldn't be in this week. The next day, my doctor was a little more willing to listen to me, and had the lab results for all three ER visits. He told me that my potassium had barely even been low on the first visit, and that I needed to stop reading labels. We discussed anxiety, and he has prescribed Celexa (20 mg for 8 days then 40 mg). I am on day 3 on the Celexa, and no help yet. I think I need something to take during the attacks to stop it, but he was resistant to that idea. The attacks are happening 4 or 5 times a day, last anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour. I will just be sitting here, and start feeling pain in my chest. It is a squeezing pressure that hurts, just behind my left breast and under my left arm. Sometimes I will have chest pain that moves all over. I have pain in my shoulders and neck. Sometimes the pain will be sharp, sometimes dull. It ranges from a 2-6 on the pain scale. I will get a flush of heat or iciness all over, and then I will get dizzy, and then I will panic. I feel nauseous.
Of course, every time it happened, I would get online and google my symptoms. For some reason, it didn't show panic disorder at first, or perhaps I ignored it. I was starting to think that I was a hypochondriac and merely reacting to the death of a friend and co-worker, but that doesn't play out because I had the palpitations before she passed away. I also have a million other symptoms. In fact, there are few panic disorder symptoms that I don't have. And, always, that nagging little voice that says it is my heart, that there is a blockage, that I am going to die. I am so scared, and I am so tired of being scared. I have become obsessed with Houston, and the fact that my children are moving there. They are coming from a small country town, and when their dad or stepmother has enough of them, they just go outside and play in the big yard. Where are they going to play now? They are going to live in an apartment, where there aren't any yards. The area where they are moving has 1200 people per square mile. Then, that thinking kicks in the cycle again...chest pain, flush, dizziness, fear...This is the most awful thing I've ever experienced, and I've experienced some awfully awful things in my life.
I am so sorry this ended up so long. Once I got started, I kept having to add in other stuff. This took me about 3 hours to type, but I do feel a bit better after laying it all out. Thank you all so much for having this place, it has been what has been keeping me together the last two days, reading the posts on the forum.
Always,
Amy