3 years, eh? Wow. You realize, of course, that if your blog were a dog, it would be at a pub right now celebrating its 21st birthday drinking tequila shots with friends—only to find out later, after it attempted to punch out the cop who was getting all chesty while trying to clear the sidewalk after closing—that its friends were drinking water shots the whole time (the assholes) and giggling with each subsequent nail they put in the coffin of its stomach’s delicate lining.
It would then (with some difficulty) find its way home after its fraternity brothers ushered it away from potentially serious jail time—only to pass out in its closet, where its roommate would find it the next morning, naked and sleeping face first in a high top leather Timberland filled ankledeep with regurgitated bits of cheese fries that’d spent the wee morning hours marinating in bile, bits of lime pulp, rail agave juice, and what it hopes isn’t a condom. Hypothetically speaking.
But congrats all the same!
Hey Jeff, how’s that Klonopin workin’ out for ya?
Oh ya crack jokes when I’m enjoying a Chu-Hi. Way to go shithead! Now I got cheese fries and lime running out my left nosril and a persistent latex-like snot bubble that blinds my vision every time I exhale outa my right!
And my keyboard!
Honestly? I still get the tightness in my chest, though I’m trying to convince myself that the diagnosis of General Anxiety Disorder (caused by what I’m not sure) is correct, and that I’m not going to drop dead at any moment from a massive coronary, or some crazy pulmonary condition that will be named after me subsequently once the pathologists who study it figure out what exactly it is.
But other than that—mixed with a Guinness, it’s kinda pleasantly mellow.
You?
oh!
that reminds me to go check up on Patterico’s five-part-so-far bloviathon/snorathon on abortion!
Not!
I needed that!
I just got off the phone with a relative and the entire call was a recording of another relative’s funeral that took place earlier in the day. Who records a funeral and then calls someone at midnight to play it?
Thanks for the laugh.
Back when I used to watch television, they opened the morning programming with a shot of Old Glory flying to “The Star Spangled Banner.” They need to open now with the same music played over that montage of the Twin Towers on 9/11.
mY BLogg is actinnng kine of weerd today, so you nevr know wat it did when I logged offf.
Thanks for the link. I guess I should have asked for a link from Drudge if I knew it was this easy to get a link from you.
Eeewwwwww. That should really help out with breakfast.
Jeff,
Your symptoms can be caused by THC reacting to particular types of orally consumed fats. Especially lecithin. Even if you only partake on occasion. The cannabinoids attach themselves to the fats and create havoc on the myoelectric response.
My cardiologist says it’s epidimic for men in their late thirties and older now. Do you eat anything with lecithin listed on the label?
Just sayin’.
I swear, Jeff, you sure can paint a pretty picture.
Hell that reminds me, I’ve got number two coming up in a couple weeks. Once upon a time, I’m pretty sure that fact would have excited me.
Hey, congratulations, Jeff. It’s funny: your blog celebrated its 21st (in dog years) almost exactly the same way my “friends” and I “celebrated” my getting a driver’s license. Which makes your blog sound like a bit of a wuss, comparatively speaking.
Not that I’m drawing any invidious comparisons, mind you. I applaud your sense of social responsibility.
Re-read.
Boy, after reading that, I think I will quit drinking…..or maybe not
“Any one who disses Patterico gets a mug full of buckshot!”
-Dick Cheney
tom, ha ha!
i’ve shot skeet since i was 12, and i have my own browning semi-automatic!
i could take cheney anyday.
AND, its birdshot, not buckshot.
but, it is boring.
Patterico constrained the discussion so that no new technology is introduced, like parthenotes or fMRI–biotech is satanic, right?
so there’s five threads and humdreds of comments of exactly the same stuff that’s been gone over here a thousand times before.
tw: endless loop
>BAM!<
missed me, missed me,
now you hafta kiss me!
Congrattiversary!
I had a similar nuttiness for a while a few years back, but I’m resistant to psychopharmacology (with an exception, of course, for random street drugs; Foucault’s my hero (seriously)), so once the real doctors made sure my heart hadn’t been secretly replaced with Dick Cheney’s, I decided that Chest Pain Main in my head was a fucking idiot, and I stopped listening to him. He died soon thereafterâ€â€but not real soon.
If the side effects of the Klown aren’t too much fun to give up, I’d recommend you do the same. You seem like a guy who can “head” it out.
Bootstraps, Republican Man, bootstraps.
What were your symptoms, BoZ?
When I first went to the hospital unable to breathe (about a 20 months ago), they could find nothing wrong with me—though I was a bit slow to recover on one measure of the stress test. They said that was due to my being out of shape, which is possible, but I had been doing about 10 minutes a day on the stair machine and was lifting weights.
The follow-up sent required I get an ecocardiogram, which found minor things (valve reflux) and the mention of “minor pulmonary hypertension.” Which my GP thought was unlikely, but sent me to a pulmonary specialist anyway.
After a bunch of breathing chamber tests, the pulmonologist cleared me—saying he found nothing wrong. He said we’d do a routine follow-up in 6 months, but then his office stopped taking patient visits.
In the interim, I was on Zoloft (which I personally supplemented with fish oil), which seemed to keep my breathing problems (often feelw like I can’t get a deep breath, slight tightening of the chest) under control. Until one night, when I felt able to breathe, but the rest of my body seemed to be going haywire: tingling in the legs, chills, dry mouth, slight stomache ache, feeling like I was about to pass out—took me back to the ER, where once again, they could find no problem (though this time, their tests consisted only of blood work and an EKG).
For three weeks after that, I felt fine. Then, one week, I felt similar symptoms every day. Using some Atavin that had been prescribed to me after my initial incident (and before I went on Zoloft), I took one pill, and the symptoms subsided. So I went back to the GP, who did more blood work, this time checking my thyroid. Again, no problems.
I asked if perhaps I was getting used to the Zoloft, and he said that perhaps Klonopin—a slower acting form of Atavin that stays in the system longer—would help me out. He diagnosed me with General Anxiety Disorder, and put me on the Klonopin regimen I’m now on.
The chest tightening is still there (it’s not constant, however), but as I said, I took his word for it and started getting back on the stair machine—something I’d be afraid to do since that initial attack that took me to the hospital.
My plan is to start off slowly, with 5 minutes a day for a week, adding a minute for each week. And I’ve noticed that, though it is certainly taxing, my recovery time was getting much shorter.
Then, last night, about an hour after the exercise, I started to feel the tightness in my chest again that went away only with a pint of Guinness.
Today, I’ve been feeling it all day, despite lifting weights and doing 500 pushups to try to ease the “anxiety.” I have taken my first Klonopin of the day.
Which brings my history up to date.
We are trying to save money for a house, so I’m loathe to spend money on expensive specialists—but I’m beginning to wonder at this point if I shouldn’t just go to a cardiologist and get a complete workup.
My diet is good, my cholesterol (I’ve been on Lipitor for about 2 years) was very good the last time it was checked—about a year ago: 133) and my BP seems to move between 120-130 / 75-80.
My heartrate, too, seems fine—though I often feel it beating more rapidly when I get up from sitting down (though it still doesn’t get much over 90 BPM).
I understand that anxiety disorder is an actual physical problem, but it’s made worse by the fact that it mimics heart problems, pulmonary problems, and certain problems tied to the Central Nervous syste (for instance, I seem to feel like tapping my feet constantly, and I’ve been a fairly restless sleeper all my life).
I wish I knew for sure what I should do. I really DO want to believe my GP, whom I like (and who has not been shy about sending me for various testing), but at the same time, I don’t want to find out that the diagnosis has been masking a serious problem that nobody has been able to find as of yet.
Anybody know how often one should go for a cardio workup? Or should I just drink the Guinness and accept it as (combined with the Klonopin) as a magic elixer?
So, I drag you into the clinic and tie you down in bed, while I insult you, write all your symptoms on a whiteboard, (two whiteboards?), come up with six different diagnoses which require ten different treatments and three emergency procedures, send my minions to break into your home and search under the sink, interrogate all your friends, (and the commenters on your blog), then finally conclude that you’re allergic to Armadillos and shoot the little bastard.
And all you lose is a leg and the sight in one eye.
Me? Nah, don’t do the Klonopin. Effexor and Trazodone. What a world, eh?
Jesus Jeff, what you’re going thru is a DEAD ringer for what happened to me (and still happens on occasion).
It was back when I was in my late 20’s. I had the exact same symptoms, though you didn’t mention the gripping fear of impending death by cardiac implosion that I had (although I bet you know what I’m talking about). Mostly it happened at night, as I was trying to get to sleep. I was at the time back in college after getting out of the military, and figured it was related to all the stress I was under. I tried to ignore it until one night I ended up in the ER complaining of chest pain.
Long story short, after numerous trips to cardiologists, gastroenterologists (SP?), and psychiatrists, they settled on “panic attacks”. They put me on Prozac, Zanac (SP?), and Atavan at various times. The Prozac SUCKED, the Zanac was useless. The Atavan worked like a silver bullet most times. I also discovered, as have you, that a beer (not slammed, but downed fairly quickly) would work, too. The light buzz shut off the attacks like a switch.
In the end, I ignored the docs, quit the meds, and asked Mom what to do. Turns out that Dad went thru the same stuff, and solved it by focusing on the ticking second hand of a wristwatch to take his mind off the panic. That worked for me somewhat, but mostly I just sort of learned to deal with it, training my mind to ignore the panic and chill out.
It still hits me now and again, but I don’t let it make me get crazy anymore. It’s weird: At the time I was physically fit, never suffered chest pain or breathing problems when I exerted myself, and generally was the picture of health – physically and mentally. This crap came out of the blue and really freaked me out for a while. I’ve got a new sympathy for people suffering inexplicable mental or emotional issues now.
We can hash things out in the comments, or take it offline, but if you have questions, ask away. As for advice: Get at least a basic cardio workup, if only because it’s a great mental anchor when you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re not about to die. Or so it was for me.
Well, how often does one need a basic cardio workup?
I had the two trips to the ER, one about 20 months ago (when they did everything, including a MRI and a stress test, followed by the ecocardiogram) and one about two months back, where they did bloood and EKG and monitored heartrate, etc.
And do I go to a specialist? What do I ask for?
Thanks.
Well, I had the echo, the stress test, EKG, and blood work. The blood work said some chemical (Cpk?) related to heart tissue damage was elevated, but that was possibly due to the fact that the blood was drawn when I was in the middle of an attack, and my heart rate was 130 or something, which it normally would never reach except when I was really working hard. Since they didn’t find anything serious to look at detail, my testing stopped there.
FWIW, I haven’t had an ounce of medical effort spent on this in the past 10 years. I still get the symptoms on rare occasions, but nowadays I can shut that off with a little concentration. I play ice hockey (competitive, not pond hockey) at least once a week, and NEVER have chest pain or breathing issues anymore, so I know my heart’s fine.
As for you, you said the pulmonologist wanted to do a follow-up. Find one who’s taking patients, get him your records, and ask him to take a look at you. Basically, nail down the unknowns so you can put your mind at ease about the actual state of your heart.
Assuming there’s nothing physical going on, you can work on the mental side of things with confidence that you’re not dying. Look: If a beer makes it go away, it ain’t your heart. That was a big one for me. I couldn’t logically explain how a beer would stop an impending heart attack, so I had a mental weapon with which to fight off the panic.
Y’know, you might want to get some kind of gastro-intestinal work done. One of the things that turned out to trigger my attacks was acid reflux. The slight chest pain from that acted like a “seed” for my panic, which my mind then could blow up into really scary chest pain. The giveaway on that one was that a quick gulp of cold water would shut the pain off completely, if only for a few seconds. That again had no logical connection with heart problems, so I could convince myself that I was OK and not about to die.
It’s a tough thing to beat. You spend immense amounts of energy convincing yourself that it’s your mind doing this to you, but your mind fights back by telling you “Are you REALLY sure this isn’t real? Because hey, you might be about ready to drop dead unless you get medical attention!” Yes, I would really have these arguments with myself, and yes, I felt pretty stupid then, and still feel stupid now.
Shit, even as I type this I keep thinking “Maybe I shouldn’t say this because he might really have a problem”. But everything you’re going through is such an amazing match that I have to tell you what I went through in hopes that I can save someone the years of sleepless nights I went through fighting this myself.
I started out with night-time panic attacks, too. The Trazodone has worked wonders for that. It’s a freaking miracle drug as far as letting you sleep with no side effects. This may sound a little odd, but when I first called an urgent care place with this and before I got medication, the shrink I talked to told me that panic attacks are basically fight-or-flight syndrome, and to go out in the living room and run in place. It doesn’t replace Trazodone, but in a pinch, it actually works, believe it or not.
I’m going to work on the just try to beat it mentally angle a little longer unless some really bad pain or labored breathing happens. I’ve been doing some time back on the stair machine, and once spring hits, I’ll start going for morning walks with the kid. I have a feeling that will help things.
My GP said similar things: that if an Atavin made it stop, that tells him it’s something other than my heart.
It’s just so weird how it comes out of the blue, for no reason.
craigc
but, that would work. a panic attack should dump nor-epinefrine (an adrenalin precursor) into your bloodstream, and running in place would dissapate the adrenalin by-products.
remember, we were engineered for a lot more exercise than we get these days, and exercise can change your blood chemistry, jeff.
i wouldn’t worry about your GP missing something major. exhaustive testing is prettty much the rule in the climate of litigation.
jeff, i’m really interested in the effect of beer on you and Tom. what you want is to catalyse (break down) the neuro-hormones that are causing the symptoms, and dissapate the by-products.
mebbe there is something special in guiness.
i really like those tall cans with the simulated draft dohicky in them.
i heart technology.