A pinch of panic and a dash of salt

Yesterday work was interrupted by rapid heart beats, pins and needles in my hands, feet, and face. I couldn't breathe and nor swallow, my thoughts were racing and I thought I was about to keel over right there and then. I knew that I was having a panic attack and despite the deep breathing and reminding myself that my symptoms are just generated a rush of epinephrine running through my body and that nothing is actually happening to me, my entire afternoon was interrupted by this attack against my psyche.

I had been having less panic attacks and less PTSD flashbacks since March, so currently I'm trying to figure out what may be the instigator in these new sets of attacks. Why do I feel under attack?

Is it the USMLE? I find it kind of pathetic if it is. Nonetheless, I think that is the primary suspect. Is it starting in lab after I'm done with the exam? Less likely - though still a possibility. Could it be the fact that my significant other is in search of jobs and may mean a sudden relocation from one of the best medical schools in the country? Totally possible. Could it be the fact that I'm still "under investigation for perhaps having multiple sclerosis/demyelinating disease?" Yeah, totally could be.

I guess, it is less of one thing and more of the compounded load that my psyche then seems to have to bear. How could one's psyche not feel under attack? (Yet, there are those who are really under attack - nightly and daily. Not only are their psyche's under constant torment, but their bodies and well-being are trampled by those with greater force - don't get me started)

Commence the "rational thinking." Yes, I want to do well on the exam; yes I want to excel in lab - but the only thing I have control over is how hard I prepare and how often I meet with my adviser; how much I keep up with the literature; how dedicated I am to running controls. On a similar note, as much as I can worry about having MS, the worst thing I can do is live like I have MS without a final diagnosis. Nonetheless, I can still feel the tension like a tide waters hitting a broken levy and as I sit down to finish going over neurology and biochemistry today, I will have to combat the anxiety, however irrational it may be.

If it doesn't make sense then, why then? the panic attacks? the mood swings? Because living is conflict. With no gleaming solution to all of my menial problems, the only thing left I suppose is to be. To be? Here. And exist.