One, take a deep breath. Two, another deep breath. Three. Breathe. These days sometimes it only takes three breaths to pull myself back, and sometimes a little bit longer. There used to be days, though, days where I couldn’t catch my breath no matter how much I breathed, no matter how slow, no matter how deep, no matter how fast. I don’t think it was even about breathing. There was a knot that just sat there in the middle of my chest and it tightened up and then it flexed just enough to tighten up again, over and over. It was painful, but it wasn’t a sharp pain. It was heavy like someone was sitting on my chest. The very first time it happened I was not just scared but I couldn't even think straight. I tried so very hard to remain calm, but remaining calm while having an anxiety attack is a lot like telling someone who is choking to spit out the object that they are choking on.
I haven't had an anxiety attack in a while, but today I remembered the date, and there it was. February 1, 2, 3, 4. It was the day my sister was admitted to the ICU two years ago. The ICU where the air was always cold and the light was dim, where the doctors said without emotion, "when someone is admitted to the ICU, they usually do not leave". No matter what time of day it was, no matter how bright it was outside, in the ICU it always felt like nighttime. I could see the ceiling. For some reason, I always saw the ceiling. And I then I would hear it, my sister pleading: Help me, Kang. Help me. Which meant I knew what would come next, the panic attacks, the memory of her having them.
The nurses told me not to help her because once she started to have a panic attack there’s nothing anyone can do to help her. Still I couldn’t sit idly by doing nothing, so I tried to help her. Every one of us who saw her tried to help her. Nothing, though, could alleviate the pain she was in and eventually her body convulsed and she went into seizures. I remember the first time I witnessed that I felt so incredibly helpless that it would have been better if I could have just crawled out of my own skin.
I try not to go there anymore. I try to tuck it away, but some days are harder than others. Some days the memories go hand in hand where I remember her beautiful smile, her face, her voice and then it goes dark. I've never had a panic attack. I pray that I never do. I pray that none of you ever do. I have had anxiety attacks, though, and today, well, there it was.