Scottish summer

Only in Scotland, a typical Scottish summer. Just something I really did not need as I've been struggling a bit again. That seems to be the way of things. In anxiety self help lingo they are setbacks. They are supposed to be good things because they give you the chance to practice. That is the theory at least. Unfortunately when you are overwhelmed with anxiety then practice is furthest from the mind and escape is the primary thought.

Life gets in the way sometimes as it does for everyone. Two scary periods of late. The first was on Saturday night. My wife finished by saying: "God, I wish I had not said anything now as I know how panicky you get". She's not wrong. It doesn't take much to set off my alarm bells. This time though I felt I had just cause and reacted like most people would. I think at least. Then again I know there are people who would not worry. Anyway I was coming down the hall in a shorts and t-shirt with my wife coming the other way and she  looked down and said: "what is the lump on your leg?" What? Where? And I sat down to examine and find a lump sticking out of the side of my lower leg about a third of the way up from the foot. There was no pain, wasn't sore to touch and wasn't discoloured. All good things I thought until I made the ultimate mistake of reaching for google.

By Monday I was a wreck. So many worries. The anxious doctor in my head diagnosing all sorts of bad fears. My biggest fear as always is being told I have to go to hospital firstly and secondly being kept in for tests or other things. My wife called the surgery. The receptionist said the doctor would call back soon. No phone call came. 3 hours later a doctor arrived at the door and to my horror he seemed really ill- I felt like I should be the one treating him. He was wheezing badly and after opening the door I don't think he liked the look of those steep stairs. He was a man of few words. After some looking and prodding he said: Vein. Then he went to make his way out. Eh? A vein? The reply: A varicose vein. Shit. I've heard of them but what are they? What causes them? I walk a lot should I cut back? Will it get worse? Should I monitor it? Those are the questions I remember asking but I asked more I cannot remember and to every one I was met with silence. As he made his way to the stairs I asked if it needed treated. He turned and looked at me and said: surgical socks. Then he was at the bottom of the stairs when I jumped down to open the door with a: thank very much for coming out. No answer. He shuffled off looking very put out.

So that was that. Still no idea what that means. My wife tells me not to worry as loads of people she knows has had them. Had them? Do they go? I learned enough at the weekend to know I should not google. So I am none the wiser and will just monitor it.

That was the first scare. Getting back to the start where I was talking about Scottish summers. That was earlier today. Quite unsettling. I went for a last walk down the road. I was sweating with the heat because I had a light jacket on- the only way I could carry a camera without holding it. I passed a woman I know who remarked how hot it was. And it was. As I was coming back home 2 miles later I was thinking of taking my coat off and just carrying it. I was coming through the local park. This is when I started to get unsettled. It was like some disaster movie. The skies had quickly turned from blue to black and the wind steadily was picking up. It cut up a dust storm in the ash park and was running through the grass in waves. I got near the road I had to cross to get home with my home in sight when all of sudden it went mental. Within less than 30 seconds I was soaked through to the skin- even my boxers were sudden. That was fine. The problem was I could not breathe. It was like a hurricane. I had no choice but to turn my back on it and walk away down the street. Panic went full blown. Not only was I walking away from home but the street  I was on is totally exposed with nowhere to shelter from the wind.

The panic was so bad it forced me to try to get home again. There is an old folk's home and a council worker was hiding behind a wall for shelter. Not far. He was looking at me as I tried to get up the street. I was going to make my way to join him. I couldn't. Again I could not breathe and so was forced to turn back. Again the panic spiked. In my mind it could last for hours. I couldn't stay out in that for hours. I had no idea how long it would last.

It lasted probably 5 minutes. By the time I reached the front door blue was cutting through the black and I could feel the warm rays again. It was over. My melodrama was over. The panic was starting to subside. But as silly as it sounds I cannot remember the last time I felt that terrified.

It proves something though and that is I am easily spooked. Two periods where I scared myself and yet were not actually a problem at all. This is what keeps me stuck. No harm done but mentally there is because both have chipped away at my confidence a little more. That though is my doing. I have to deal with these things better if I am to recover. Its all in the head.