Page 134 of Foreplay on Words

“Are you alright, Sir?”

I sat up a little and tried to respond, but my words were caught in my throat.

“Are you asthmatic? Are you injured?”

She sat beside me on the bench and touched my shoulder. She pursed her lips as I shook my head, and she watched me trying to force air into my lungs.

“Do you have panic attacks frequently?” she asked, guessing what was wrong with me.

I shrugged as I felt like my chest was easing up slightly. It was still hard to breathe deeply, but the numbness was starting to fade from my jaw.

My lips quivered as I responded. “Some…times...I...used to...”

She nodded and placed a stethoscope on my back. “I think you’re okay, but can you walk? Would you like to come inside with me?”

I nodded and stood up slowly, black spots appearing in the corners of my vision.

“Just take it easy. We’ll get you checked in.” She led me through automatic doors and to a reception desk.

“I’m going to go ahead and take him back since we’re slow.” She told the woman at the front desk. “Can you send someone back to get him registered?”

“Of course. I’ll start a chart for him.”

The woman, whose name badge indicated she was a physician’s assistant, led me through a door and down a hallway, sitting me in a chair in an exam room. She took my vitals, and by then, my breathing had eased enough I wasn’t wheezing.

“You seem alright, but I’d still like to let you calm down a little back here.” She nodded after she listened to my chest.

“Th-thank you.”

“Do you have someone to talk to about these episodes?” she asked as she put down her stethoscope.

“Not recently,” I shook my head. “I used to have a psychiatrist, but I haven’t had a full-blown panic attack in t-two years.”

“And something triggered one tonight?” She guessed.

I nodded as I drew in a shuddering breath.

“I won’t make you go into it. But I want to give you something tonight to help relax you.”

The receptionist came back then and got me registered. I had my wallet with my identification, but it didn’t occur to me that I’d given Sam my phone until I tried to give her emergency contact information.

“I’m gonna get a doctor’s permission to put you on a low dose of Klonopin,” the PA told me as she took my information sheet and scanned over it. “Do you have any allergies, or have you had any adverse reactions to anxiety medications?”

“No.”

She left the room and returned a few minutes later, verifying my birthdate and last name before handing me a few little white tablets to swallow with water. “These should help relax you enough to get through this episode, but I’d recommend following up with your psychiatrist if you’ll be exposed to your source of stress regularly.”

“Hopefully, that won’t be a problem.” I nodded but would try to check in with Dr. Singh if I had time while we were on the road.

“If you start to feel any tightness in your chest, abnormal swelling, or difficulty breathing, you need to come back in.” She finished her discharge instructions and then walked me back to the lobby.

I wasn’t entirely sure where I was, and I wasn’t sure how I would get back to the hotel without my phone.

There was a microbrewery across the street from the urgent care, and I found myself walking across the road before I thought about it.

“Hey man, what can I get you?” the bartender asked as I sat across from him, avoiding the other patrons sitting at one end of the long bar top.

“Can I get some water, please?”

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