"... a jaw-grind, disposistion to a panic attack"

Last night I had a panic attack. It sucked. Like, a lot.

Samantha left for Diabetes Camp today. She also went last year and it was her first experience being away from either me or her dad for an extended period of time since she was diagnosed. Last year was hard. I was excited for her, but it was really, really scary for me. In advance I mapped out an activities schedule for me to follow for the whole week she was away. I knew I'd need to be kept busy or I would go insane wondering if that night was the night she had wandered off into the woods with a low blood sugar. I made it through the week and when I picked her up she was like a new person. She was confident, happy, excited to see me and tell me all about her adventures. She was alive! She did not wander off into the woods and go low, he actually stayed pretty darn high most of the time. But she survived and so did I.

So this year I felt really good about camp (at least I thought I did). I've been getting Samantha all ready to go ... shopping, packing, filling out paperwork. I was so happy to see how excited she was to go back this year! I felt ready for it. I felt prepared to handle an entire week on my own with no BG tests, no bolusing or carb counting, no calls from school asking how to treat a low. I felt ready, really ready. I was sooo wrong.

Last night I could not fall asleep. I was tired but my heart was racing, my head was swimming, I felt out of breath. I stayed up watching a movie on IFC and finally went to bed at 1 am. I tossed and turned for over an hour trying to fall asleep. I finally did but was awakened only a short time later as I sat bolt upright in bed sucking in air, sweating, feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest, grasping at my husband with a feeling of doom. I thought I was dying. It took a few minutes for me to realize what was happening and when I did I tried to just relax and ride it out. I finally fell back asleep around 3 am only to wake up four hours later knowing I wasn't quite as ready for camp as I originally thought. When I fell out of bed this morning I felt like all the life had been sucked out of me. I had chest pains, I felt awful. Fortunately I had a little bit of Klonopin on hand. I took 1/4 of a pill and I cannot even tell you how much it helped. I felt functional again.

So I dropped my kid off at camp with a smile on my face. I didn't cry or feel like I was falling apart inside. It might have all been due to that wonderful little quarter of a pill, but I sucked it up and got through the day and my daughter was never the wiser.

I am thinking of Samantha tonight and wondering what she has done today. I am hoping she has a bedtime BG of 180 and will be a perfect 150 at the 2 am test. I feel so lucky to know that she is in good hands and that she will be taken care of while away from home. But I still worry. I think I've come to realize that no matter how many times she goes away on her own, I will always worry. I will never truly be as ready as I think I am. Maybe one day I won't need to pop an anti-anxiety med to get past it. I hope so.