I thought I was in trouble...BIG trouble...and not of the Pop-o-matic variety. The pain...the all-consuming, mind scrambling, white hot, crushing, nauseating pain that filled my chest...no, my back...no, my stomach...the pain that enveloped nearly the entirety of my torso was almost more than I could possibly stand. Was I having a heart attack? No. I was only twenty-three-years-old! Then again, my mother had just suddenly died from a heart attack only a month prior. Whatever the cause, I knew that something was terribly wrong.

The glowing sign of the emergeny room could not appear quickly enough. I thought that if I could channel all of the pain I could somehow will the car to move faster. When my husband and I arrived at the hospital I made my grand entrance by vommiting in the lobby. Those Oreo's tasted so much better going down.

After the endless battery of questions I was finally taken behind one of the curtains and allowed to lie down. By that time the pain had subsided, and the nurse was ready to take a little of my B^-. I was able to catch a few winks before the doctor came in to assess me...as it was somewhere around one in the morning. The doc said that all of my blood work appeared normal, and that I had suffered a panic attack? PANIC ATTACK?

I am no expert where anything medical is concerned, but I had once before encountered a panic attack and this was NOTHING like what I had experienced. I said as much to the doctor, and he explained the incident away by saying that all panic attacks are different, and that they can have varying triggers...blah...blah. He didn't even seem bothered by the fact that I was on the cusp of sleep when the pain began. What could have triggered my attack? The Sandman?

I left the hospital feeling completely unsatisfied, but too tired to say much else in the way of disagreeing with the doctor's diagnosis. But, I should have pressed the matter. One week later I experienced the exact same symptoms, but this time I stayed home and suffered through the pain. I also deduced that both of the attacks had occurred after eating something sweet before bed (remember those Oreo's on the E.R. lobby floor?) and then lying down soon after. Upon the suggestion of numerous friends and family members who insisted that I was having classic gallbladder symptoms I made an appointment with my primary care provider. My primary doctor ordered an ultrasound, and sure enough, I had more gallstones than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands. The doc said that my gallbladder needed to be removed immediately as I was running the risk of a gallstone becoming lodged in my liver.

It all came out in the wash, however, I should have taken it upon myself to press my concerns about the E.R. doctor's diagnosis. He didn't perform any exams or tests other than routine blood work, and his explanations for the cause of the supposed panic attack were less than sufficient. I encourage anyone who has suffered any of these symptoms to consult their primary care provider and encourage a thorough examination. Don't settle for a diagnosis.