Personal Narrative: My Husband's Death

When the call came in from the hospital, my heart sank. "Mrs. Burns?" The woman continued without letting me answer. "Your husband is fine, but he's here at the hospital and insists on speaking to you," she said.

"Okay," I answered, wondering what on earth had happened.

"They said I'm fine," my husbands voice quivered. "I wanted you to know where I am in case I die."

Feeling ill for most of the day, my husband had left work early. While driving home, he'd broken out in a sweat. His heart raced, his stomach felt queasy, and he had chest pains. Afraid he'd had a heart attack, he drove himself to the hospital's emergency room where they immediately checked him out.

When the test results came back, my husband's heart

was fine. He'd had a panic attack and left the hospital with prescribed medication.

Unfortunately his medication had huge side effects, and while my husband led an extremely stressful life, part of me felt determined that he could mentally keep the attacks at bay by maintaining a positive attitude. However, his fear of experiencing another attack, often brought the attacks on, usually in the middle of the night, after we'd fallen asleep.

Suddenly, we dreaded going to bed. While I'd always suffered from insomnia, my husband's attacks wore me out and I'd find myself weary and immediately falling asleep. As soon as I'd drifted off, I'd hear my husband' voice crying out for me in the dark. When I switched on the light, I'd find him terrified, his face pale and clammy, his body trembling like the leaves on an aspen tree. Nothing I said or did comforted him and once he finally calmed down, I felt guilty for the times I'd felt a twinge of irritation after he'd fallen back to sleep while I'd stayed wide awake for the rest of the night.

One evening, completely exhausted from a week of attacks, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and had a horrendous nightmare.

I found myself in a store, surrounded by crowds of shoppers. One minute I felt fine, the next my heart raced wildly, I felt a terrible dread as my stomach grew queasy and I broke out in a sweat. Normally, I considered myself a strong-willed person, one who could control my emotions and calm myself down, but this time no matter what I tried, I found myself completely out of control. Horrified, the harder I fought these feelings, the worse I felt. Before I knew it I found myself screaming out. People tried calming me down, reassuring me I was okay. Right in the store, in front of everyone, I had a complete meltdown which jolted me awake.

Wringing wet and emotionally exhausted, I glanced at my husband, still deep in slumber and had more compassion than ever for what he was going through.

Finally, I understood that my husband's attacks entailed more than "being strong" and handling it. I'd felt the terror, the uncontrollable dread that engulfed him as well as his physical symptoms. Although I still felt helpless when it came to helping him, my dream made me more determined than ever to find safe treatment options, but most of all it helped my irritations and feelings of guilt.

After stumbling in my husband's shoes, my perception of his attacks changed forever reminding me to never judge anyone or what they're going through.

With an understanding heart, our night time events turned into a routine. From then on when my husband called out, I'd calmly awaken, hold my husband and reassure him all would be well, and head upstairs to make him our magical potion--a hot steamy mug of soothing catnip tea.

Eventually, a change in my husband's circumstances removed the source of unbearable stress, which thankfully ended his attacks, but if he ever needs it again, I'm sure our cats won't mind sharing their huge container of homegrown

catnip.