Intro to my book

It’s funny how when Garrett has a hospital stay I end up getting more time to work on little projects. Garrett slept for the majority of the 9 hours I spent with him in the ER on Friday, before being admitted into the Children’s hospital for a respiratory illness. I spent much of the time working on my book- telling the tale of Garrett’s life up until now. I’ve no idea when I will finish it/how I will publish it… but below is the introduction.

It was 2:00 PM. Early enough in the afternoon that I could probably have another coffee and it wouldn’t keep me up. I considered starting a pot. I even considered walking the dog as I sipped my cup- but only for a moment.

 “I’m exhausted.” I told myself I closed my eyes slowly and leaned my forehead against the banister in the living room of our rental. This wasn’t time for a coffee. It was time for a nap. Glancing sympathetically at my dog (who stared back at me like he knew before I did that he wasn’t getting walked) I made my way slowly to the staircase. As I climbed the pretty wooden stairs, I paused at the landing to notice the sun streaming through the window. “It will be so good to rest. Even in this sunny afternoon” I thought. Uncharacteristic of me though it was to spend a beautiful October afternoon indoors, I didn’t care. In this moment I was happy to trade the outdoors and sunshine for my pillow and the bed.

Tears started streaming down my face as I reached the top of the stairs. And then I started sobbing. And then I collapsed. I could hardly breathe. I was shaking on the floor. I couldn’t get up. My chest was tight, and I thought I was having a heart attack. Great, just greayt. I’m barely 36, and I’ve having a heart attack. My cellphone had been in my hand when I fell, and it was lying on the floor near me. I reached for it called my husband. He didn’t answer. Still on the floor I called my friend and neighbor. She answered and I gasped to her “I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t move, I cant breathe. I can’t. Stop. Crying.” I was out of control and heaving sobs at this point- which felt especially desperate because I was short on breath.

 “Stephanie calm down. Can you sit? I think I know what is happening.” Lisa’s voice was calm and steady. Reassuring as it was, it didn’t stop my shaking or my sobbing. And I still couldn’t move. “I’m coming over to take you to the Emergency Room. I will be there soon. Don’t worry.”

She arrived at the rental in under ten minutes. She must have dropped everything to come quickly. She let herself in and (for once) our dog didn’t bark, but let her pass peacefully up the stairs. I was still on the floor, still shaking, but the sobbing had subsided. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not in control.” I gasped. I was too scared to feel self-conscious as she let me lean on her, pulled me to a sitting position, and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “You’re okay, I don’t think this is a heart attack. I think this is an anxiety attack.  But come on, we are going to the ER. Just breathe. You’re okay.” She kept saying gentle and affirming expressions as she walked me down the stairs and outside to her car. Soothed by her calm and strengthen by her presence, my shaking stopped as well. I buckled into the car feeling very weak. And very silly. What in the world just happened? Was that a heart attack? Am I okay? Is a trip to the ER necessary?

 “You probably need some medication Stephanie” Lisa told me in her gentle steady voice. Her eyes  were on the road, but her complete focus was on me. “They won’t be able to give it to you in the ER, but you need to get seen.” Why did she know all this? Was she just talking gibberish to calm me? It was working.

I still needed to lean on her as we walked into the ER. Slipping the mask over my face made me lightheaded and dizzy again. My mind was fuzzy and I didn’t know what to say at check in. Lisa took care of everything for me. “My friend collapsed at home and was having trouble breathing. She is doing better now but needs to see a doctor.” I felt like I was a 6-year-old and my mother was taking care of me. My dear friend sat in the chair beside me, and I closed my eyes, leaned my head on her shoulder, and nearly fell asleep.

Before long, my husband arrived. (Lisa must have gotten through to him) he accompanied me into an ER room, and they checked my vitals, and ran some tests to ensure that I wasn’t having heart problems. After reading the EKG the Doctor entered the room with cheerful but concerned look. “Well Mrs. Thigpen, there are no irregularities in your heart rhythm- this seems to be a classic case of a panic attack.” I pursed my lips and raised my eyes first to my husband and then to the Doctor. And then I sighed. “Okay.” I said it rather weakly. Defeatedly. “Has there been any extra physical or emotional stress in your life recently?” he asked me. This time as my eyes met my husbands, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “hmm…” I thought “Where should I start?”…

5 years earlier…