art by Robin Moulyn: robinmoulynart.com
Panic Attack
I boarded that plane with trepidation
just a few weeks after yet another plane
made its untimely, tragic descent.
This one at the hands of a pilot
deciding to end his life,
and with it, the lives of 149 innocent
unsuspecting travelers.
I look out the window
gripping the armrest
a little tighter as we prepare for take off.
My seatmate, a sturdy, robust,
40-something stranger
settles in with a smile and a nod.
That familiar, but not too familiar greeting
reserved for strangers with whom we are
about to share
an intimate space.
There’s an empty seat between us.
We hit the spacious seating jackpot.
And then, like a flash of lightning
in an unexpected storm,
she reaches across the seat
eyes wide
panic-stricken face
and says, “Will you hold my hand?”
Panic attack.
“Of course.”
All the while apologizing profusely
telling me she flies all the time,
that she hasn’t had one of these attacks
in a very long while.
The plane lifts.
Her grip tightens
.
“You’re doing great,” I say.
death grip
life grip
I am seated on my dad’s deathbed
cradling his head,
listening to his brittle breath,
pondering the morphine drip.
He doesn’t know I’m there.
Or maybe
he does.
“You’re doing great,” I say.
death grip
life grip
She fumbles with her seat belt
one hand still gripping mine.
Armrest lifts,
suddenly
swiftly
she’s climbing into the seat
between us
as close to me as she can get.
“It’s okay,” I say.
death grip
life grip
I am lying on a table
waiting for
a needle biopsy in my throat.
Clutching the hand
of the nurse
eyes fixated on her face
saying sorry
so sorry
and thank you
simultaneously.
Needles terrify me.
“It’s okay,” she says.
death grip
life grip
words of comfort
human contact
humanity
I’m hoping her panic attack subsides
whilst knowing that, if it doesn’t,
I will hold this stranger’s hand
all the way to California.
12 thoughts on “Panic Attack”
This moved me to tears. Beautifully written – and a situation I believe most of us have experienced at some point. Sometimes another person’s hand can be your lifeline – sometimes another person’s lifeline can be your hand.
I love this way of saying it.
This is why I bless my fortune to have gotten to know you Sue Ann!
Wow. So powerful, so perfect, so human X
Synchronicity! My goodness how powerful is that! An experience so personal and yet so universal. You are totally open and allowing grace to move through you. May you continue to be blest. xxoxx
What a lucky gal to be seated next to just the right person to get her through such a tough time. Your generousity of spirit is beautiful to witness. I too had the privilege to sit with my father on his deathbed and it was an enormous gift. “Death grip /Life grip”. How eloquently put.
Brilliant! I can relate to your Dad. I did the exact same thing with my Dad. Death grip/Life grip, very eloquent. Thanks so much for sharing. It brought tears to my eyes. xo
Thank YOU for reading. xxoo
“death grip
life grip”
It’s so moving! Wow!
And, yes, we have all experienced this. It’s so human to have these moments. I love that you articulated several of them. It helped me rise above the flying experience to the human connection that is so universal.
My husband, who works in the ER, once had an 82 year old patient come in on a Saturday night. She was complaining of heart palpitations. She was wearing lipstick. My husband sat with her for much longer than he usually stays with his patients. When I asked how he could afford the time he responded, “Some people need scans and monitors. Some people need a hand to hold.”
“Some people need a hand to hold.” I see why you fell in love with this man. Thank you for sharing that story with me, Rebecca. xxoo
a lovely glimpse of humanity at its best . . . comfort conveyed through the clasp of two hands.
An absolutely lovely piece Sue Ann. Read and re-read…so moving. xx