This is a story about intense, crippling fear. It’s also about courage and determination. And I share this deeply personal struggle with just one hope – that it will help someone, somewhere out there.
The first time it happened was around Nov 2016, on a flight from Hawaii back to the mainland. We were cruising smoothly over the Pacific ocean. In that dark aircraft, squeezed between a snoring stranger and my 7-year-old’s sleepy head on my lap, I was in a slumber myself. All of a sudden my eyes flung open to a sensation of breathlessness. For a minute, I couldn’t move or fully comprehend my surroundings. All I felt was that the oxygen around me was draining! With a lot of effort, I finally managed to move my arm and fully open the air vent. It felt better for a few seconds and then the breathlessness came back with a vengeance. For about 10 minutes, I tried everything I knew… loosening my clothes, deep breathing, trying to ignore it, finally stopping short of screaming at the stranger to my left to give me more space!! If I didn’t do something, I was going to die.
The rest of my vacation group, including my husband and older child were dozing off in other far away rows. Sweating profusely by this time, I somehow walked all the way to the back and found a flight attendant. When I asked her if the cabin pressure had dropped, she said no and gave a few mundane suggestions to help with the breathing. I remember thinking, “Stop being nice! I am f***ing dying here. I need oxygen!”. Thankfully, I blurted out equally forceful but civil words, “I can hardly breathe. This is an emergency! Do you have a portable oxygen tank onboard? If not, please talk to the captain and figure out a way to land!”. In all that panic, not sure how I remembered that bit about long haul (and maybe all) flights carrying oxygen tanks. At that point, she saw the gravity of the situation. She gave me some water, made me sit in a nearby empty seat, and got me started on the oxygen. For the first time, in what seemed like an eternity, I took a full, normal breath. After a full hour on the oxygen tank, my breathlessness was finally gone!
It didn’t happen again elsewhere. So I pushed the horrifying memory to the back of my mind and carried on with life.
A few months later, business travel picked up. On a flight to Washington DC, we were stranded at the gate for a long time due to aircraft issues. I was actually enjoying the downtime and happily reading away. Finally, departure was announced and the cabin door closed. As the plane pushed back from the gate, at the flip of a switch, I just could NOT breathe!! As the plane started taxiing towards the runaway, the horrific experience from a few months back started unfolding again. I was dying and all I wanted was the windows to be opened!! Like a possessed person, I got up from my seat and walked to the back, looking for a flight attendant. We were getting in the take off line when I found her. In my stern, supernatural voice, I asked her to turn the plane back. I struggled to explain that I couldn’t breathe, and I had to get off the plane NOW!! She must have been scared out of her wits, because she called the captain immediately and the flight turned back!
The next 15-20 minutes were a blur. I was only half conscious when the paramedics wheeled me out of the plane. My clothes were soaking with sweat, and all I remember was welcoming a gust of fresh air on the tarmac. They ran a battery of tests, and other than high blood pressure (surprise!) everything was ok. They cleared me to fly again, or go back home. I was so shaken by the incident that I went straight to an urgent care. The doctor confirmed that my heart and lungs were absolutely fine, and said that I may be suffering from panic attacks. Apparently, there are no non-narcotic medications for panic attacks, and I refused to go down that slippery slope!
I walked out of the clinic that day with more questions than answers in my head. What panic attacks? Why now suddenly? Why me? Who else gets them? What is causing them? What is the solution? Why on a plane? Will I be able to fly again? What if I can’t?
For a few days, I continued to struggle with all the questions, and accompanying doubt, guilt, fear, you name it! My husband and a close friend I had shared this with, with the best of intentions, asked me to see more doctors. But I felt like NO one could understand the trauma, unless they had experienced it themselves. I was certainly going to seek professional help if needed, but first, I HAD to seek my own answers. Fear is debilitating and I wasn’t going to let it control me, ever!!
Google has never been more useful in my life. After an incredible amount of research and reading, it seemed that I may have a form of Claustrophobia that could be genetic, or triggered by changing hormones (welcome to the 40s!). And one day, the light bulb suddenly went on…oh my goodness… I remembered my dad talking about occasional breathing difficulty on planes, or in rooms with low ceilings. So I opened up to him and that was life changing! He understood exactly the intensity of those attacks, and shared some of his coping techniques. I had already read up a lot of them online, but talking to him gave me new found strength. There was hope after all!
More business trips were coming up and I got into action! I had to “simulate” some panic attacks and practice coping techniques before I got on a flight. I had been having sleepless nights due to stress, and I decided to make that my practice ground. So one night, I fueled the fear by imagining being on a packed plane. Sure enough, that triggered a huge panic attack with all the typical symptoms. I tried out some newly learned routines, and although soaking wet at the end, I was able to persist through the fear without waking anyone up. So I gave it another try a few nights later and it was even better. I knew I was on the right path!
The much dreaded travel day arrived. As soon as I took my seat on the plane, I turned on the air full blast. Shamelessly, I asked a few people around me to open up the window shutters, and the flight attendant to lower the temperature. Take off was great, but half an hour later, I could feel the oxygen starting to drain suddenly. However this time, fighting my urge to go tell the flight attendant, I turned the vent directly on to my face, started shallow breathing (you should not take deep breaths in a panic attack!), looked out the window and imagined being on a beach in front of a wide open ocean! And within a few minutes, things got under control.I have conquered fear on a few more flights since then. There is a set routine now, and the attacks are better managed. However, the war isn’t over yet. I am just determined to win, one battle at a time!
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