Glass_Shadow
12-11-2012, 12:07 PM
My first post. I'm not sure whether I have a question. Not even sure I am in the right place. Just hoping someone is out there who understands.
I think I have panic attacks. No, I'm sure of it. In fact, I think I've probably had them all my life, and I'll be starting my 42nd trip around the Sun in a couple of months. It didn't get bad until a couple of years ago. I was having a rough time at work. I was expected to run the two departments each with more responsibility than any others in the facility. I was on call 24/365, was the only person who had worked every holiday for the last 5 years, and I couldn't tell you how many 24-hour and 36-hour shifts I had worked without a break. My boss was a walking ego. One day, I was trying to straighten my truck in the parking space and ended up denting a fellow employee's car. She had owned the car 5 days. I reported it to security and to her and to the insurance company. When I took her outside to show her the damage and apologize, suddenly the air was too thick to breathe. I ended up hyperventilating, hands and face started tingling, legs turned to rubber. They called an ambulance, but by the time it had arrived, I was breathing normally, and the only thing they could find wrong was that my pulse was a little elevated.
The security guard told my boss that I said I had blacked out. I don't remember telling him that.
A couple of weeks later I had another one. It just came out of the blue. Once again the air didn't seem to have enough oxygen.
After another week, it was happening every other day. Something new was starting, as well. Sometimes I would be sitting on the couch watching TV with my wife or maybe just going to check the mail, and all of a sudden I would be absolutely terrified. I didn't know what I was afraid of, but it was like being told that you probably wouldn't live until morning. An hour or two later, everything would be fine. Being afraid of nothing seemed silly.
I never believed in panic attacks. I always just assumed that it was an excuse to get out of work or to manipulate others. My opinion was rapidly changing, though.
I went to the doctor. He prescribed Wellbutrin. That helped at first, but after a while the "breathing fits," as I called them, came back. Eventually, I started studying Taoism and positive thinking. This was a huge change for someone who had been an atheist since he was a teenager. Things started getting better. A lot better. And, about 6 months later, I went off the Wellbutrin. I probably should have asked my doctor first, but I didn't feel the medicine was helping and I didn't really trust his opinion anyway.
A little over a year later, I changed jobs, took a HUGE pay cut, and ended up jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. They put me, the new guy, as the head of a department that takes a couple of years to learn. My coworkers were resentful, to say the least. I had been free of the panic attacks for almost a year, and they came back with a vengeance. This time it was every day, sometimes as many as six in one day.
I am back on the Wellbutrin and my doctor added buspirone. I haven't hyperventilated since going on the new meds, but that is the only thing that has improved. Most nights, I wake up and worry to the ceiling over what might happen at work today. I lie there until I can't take it anymore, then get up and read or surf the Internet until it's time for my alarm to go off.
I called into work again today. I'm doing this at least once a month. The rest of the time, I force myself to go in. Yesterday was a really bad day. I couldn't do anything right. I was being asked to perform tasks that were about a year ahead of my learning curve, and every time I asked for help, the person seemed to take it as a personal attack. On the way to work, I started having an intense headache and a weird muscle spasm on the left side of my face. I thought I was having a stroke. I looked into the rear view mirror, but neither side of my face drooped. I woke up at 4:00 this morning and could not force myself to go in again today.
My wife is very understanding, but she has that look in her eyes that she is afraid I might lose my job.
I am wondering whether the buspirone is the problem. The doctor put me on only 15 mg twice a day, but I started having really bad headaches, and so he had me to cut the pills in half. This morning I got started doing some Internet research about buspirone. Dizziness, headaches, and insomnia are some of the symptoms. I have had severe sleep apnea for almost 10 years -- bad enough that before treatment I could fall asleep while talking or eating. So, insomnia is something difficult for me to wrap my brain around. Several of the websites also said that buspirone is ineffective for panic disorders.
I am seriously thinking about whether I should look for another doctor. Pills and "lose weight" seem to be his answer for everything. Plus, this wouldn't be the first time prescribed the wrong medicines for me. A pharmacist about hit the ceiling once when my doctor gave me two scripts that could not be taken together.
My wife has suggested that I see a counselor. There is a clinic close by, but I have heard a lot of bad things about it. Small towns don't tend to cultivate a wealth of psychiatric choices.
I think I have panic attacks. No, I'm sure of it. In fact, I think I've probably had them all my life, and I'll be starting my 42nd trip around the Sun in a couple of months. It didn't get bad until a couple of years ago. I was having a rough time at work. I was expected to run the two departments each with more responsibility than any others in the facility. I was on call 24/365, was the only person who had worked every holiday for the last 5 years, and I couldn't tell you how many 24-hour and 36-hour shifts I had worked without a break. My boss was a walking ego. One day, I was trying to straighten my truck in the parking space and ended up denting a fellow employee's car. She had owned the car 5 days. I reported it to security and to her and to the insurance company. When I took her outside to show her the damage and apologize, suddenly the air was too thick to breathe. I ended up hyperventilating, hands and face started tingling, legs turned to rubber. They called an ambulance, but by the time it had arrived, I was breathing normally, and the only thing they could find wrong was that my pulse was a little elevated.
The security guard told my boss that I said I had blacked out. I don't remember telling him that.
A couple of weeks later I had another one. It just came out of the blue. Once again the air didn't seem to have enough oxygen.
After another week, it was happening every other day. Something new was starting, as well. Sometimes I would be sitting on the couch watching TV with my wife or maybe just going to check the mail, and all of a sudden I would be absolutely terrified. I didn't know what I was afraid of, but it was like being told that you probably wouldn't live until morning. An hour or two later, everything would be fine. Being afraid of nothing seemed silly.
I never believed in panic attacks. I always just assumed that it was an excuse to get out of work or to manipulate others. My opinion was rapidly changing, though.
I went to the doctor. He prescribed Wellbutrin. That helped at first, but after a while the "breathing fits," as I called them, came back. Eventually, I started studying Taoism and positive thinking. This was a huge change for someone who had been an atheist since he was a teenager. Things started getting better. A lot better. And, about 6 months later, I went off the Wellbutrin. I probably should have asked my doctor first, but I didn't feel the medicine was helping and I didn't really trust his opinion anyway.
A little over a year later, I changed jobs, took a HUGE pay cut, and ended up jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. They put me, the new guy, as the head of a department that takes a couple of years to learn. My coworkers were resentful, to say the least. I had been free of the panic attacks for almost a year, and they came back with a vengeance. This time it was every day, sometimes as many as six in one day.
I am back on the Wellbutrin and my doctor added buspirone. I haven't hyperventilated since going on the new meds, but that is the only thing that has improved. Most nights, I wake up and worry to the ceiling over what might happen at work today. I lie there until I can't take it anymore, then get up and read or surf the Internet until it's time for my alarm to go off.
I called into work again today. I'm doing this at least once a month. The rest of the time, I force myself to go in. Yesterday was a really bad day. I couldn't do anything right. I was being asked to perform tasks that were about a year ahead of my learning curve, and every time I asked for help, the person seemed to take it as a personal attack. On the way to work, I started having an intense headache and a weird muscle spasm on the left side of my face. I thought I was having a stroke. I looked into the rear view mirror, but neither side of my face drooped. I woke up at 4:00 this morning and could not force myself to go in again today.
My wife is very understanding, but she has that look in her eyes that she is afraid I might lose my job.
I am wondering whether the buspirone is the problem. The doctor put me on only 15 mg twice a day, but I started having really bad headaches, and so he had me to cut the pills in half. This morning I got started doing some Internet research about buspirone. Dizziness, headaches, and insomnia are some of the symptoms. I have had severe sleep apnea for almost 10 years -- bad enough that before treatment I could fall asleep while talking or eating. So, insomnia is something difficult for me to wrap my brain around. Several of the websites also said that buspirone is ineffective for panic disorders.
I am seriously thinking about whether I should look for another doctor. Pills and "lose weight" seem to be his answer for everything. Plus, this wouldn't be the first time prescribed the wrong medicines for me. A pharmacist about hit the ceiling once when my doctor gave me two scripts that could not be taken together.
My wife has suggested that I see a counselor. There is a clinic close by, but I have heard a lot of bad things about it. Small towns don't tend to cultivate a wealth of psychiatric choices.