My Panic Attack

Panic attacks and agoraphobia were part of my life from childhood until my mid-twenties. My mother was agora­phobic and at one time was housebound for two years. I didn't even notice this, mainly because my brother and I, and later our sister, were brought up by a nanny. We had a very happy childhood and a good social life, but I was a nervous child with an over-active imagination. I was happiest when retreating into a fantasy world and weaving stories to entertain my siblings and my friends.

One day I was enjoying my weekly ballet lesson. My mother sat with her friends and smiled encouragingly every time I caught her eye. As the winter afternoon was bleak and dark, someone switched on the lights, and suddenly from being a carefree child I became a nervous wreck for no apparent reason. The noise of the music was overwhelming, the lights were too bright and everything around me seemed unreal. I ran to my mother for reassurance, and after I had calmed down we went home and the family doctor was summoned. It was decided that I was suffering from a reaction to a tonsil operation I had had a few weeks earlier.

These days, I suppose this would have been diagnosed as a panic attack caused by post-traumatic stress, and certainly the experience had been particularly stressful. In the 1930s there was no such thing as a pre-operative sedative; I was wheeled straight into the operating theatre and, amid the frightening sight of surgical instruments and gowned adults, was held down while the rubber mask was placed over my face. I fought against the horrible smell of the gas, screaming with fright as the anaesthetic took effect. I can still remember vividly the sensation of falling and the blackness overcoming me while disembodied voices alternately soothed and scolded me.

Two weeks in hospital did not unduly disturb me and I didn't appear to have any after-effects. In fact, I soon forgot the ordeal and didn't worry abut it until the panic attack when I was dancing.

I never did go back to ballet lessons. I had a few mild panic attacks and felt generally jumpy but my mother reassured me and said the nerves were just something one had to put up with.

Some time later I had to visit the dentist. This was a regular occurrence and did not bother me until I saw the family doctor in the surgery and knew what that meant.. . gas. I fled from the surgery, out of the front door and along the road, pursued by several adults.



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