Part 1 - Getting There

On the morning of June 9, my reliable brother Aaron dropped me off at the Philadelphia International Airport. Having been paranoid about loosing luggage, I had squeezed the bear essentials I'd need for the trip into one small carry-on bag; which proved a wise choice for a variety of reasons. So, with my bag in one hand and my blazer jacket in the other, I found the gate for my departing flight.

I've never had a fear of flying before; in fact, I've always enjoyed flights in the past. However, I was very aware of how us panic folk tend to unexpectedly develop new phobias that catch us by surprise. I maintained an optimistic frame of mind, but my anticipatory anxiety was pretty high. On top of that, this was the first time I had flown alone and I was somewhat anxious about my PDI presentation the next day too. Basically, I was a bundle of nerves, yet a milligram or so of alprazolam (Xanax) helped keep my anxiety at bay just enough to get on the plane, buckle myself in, and let fate take its course. And, yes, I kept the airsick bag handy.

Eventually (one of those fifteen minutes that felt like an hour), my plane taxied out onto the runway. The engines then roared as this oversized rocket sled zoomed into the sky. Then, I suddenly remembered how much I enjoyed flying! My anxiety quickly melted away and I was greatly delighted that the phobia Gods had spared me. After a while, I even started hoping for some severe air turbulence to make things more thrilling. But the flight was calm, so I began reading the one book I brought with me; a friend's doctoral dissertation, Perceptions of the Sun and Moon in England, 1400 - 1720.

After changing planes in Atlanta, Georgia, I safely landed in Los Angeles by late afternoon. At that point, it was simply a matter of getting to my hotel. Fortunately, when I had made my reservations, the nice hotel folks had advised me to avoid the expensive taxi cabs, and simply take the convenient and inexpensive shuttle straight to the hotel. The moment I stepped out of the airport, however, I encountered an awesome scene of countless different shuttles of all shapes, sizes and colors. I wandered about in total confusion for about half an hour, trying to decipher the codes and abbreviations that each shuttle brandished.

Strangers eventually directed me to the airport shuttle, which dropped me off at a public bus stop for downtown LA. With some uncertainty and trepidation, I boarded the bus and rode off into totally alien neighborhoods. Grimly clutching the address of the hotel, I carefully watched the street signs looking for my stop. Basically, I was looking for 7th Street in downtown, but all the damn streets had names rather than numbers, and the area looked more like suburbs rather than any downtown I'd ever seen.

Once again, I started asking strangers for advice. I was told that, yes, the bus would eventually stop at 7th Street in downtown, but nowhere near the hotel I was going to! Still, things didn't turn out too bad. I got off the bus at 7th Street and only had to walk a mile or two to reach the hotel. Obviously, I had not used the appropriate shuttle, but reached my destination nonetheless.

Part 2 - The Conference

I woke up the next morning charged with emotional energy. I knew it was an anxious energy that threatened to escalate, so I promptly took a milligram of Xanax. I shaved, showered, dressed, collected my presentation notes and promptly took another milligram of Xanax. Breakfast was avoided to minimize emetophobic concerns (nervous vomiting). As the Xanax started taking effect, my nauseating nervousness gradually became a tolerable excitement. I left the hotel with a reckless sense of optimism; I was ready to present my talk for better or worse, and I was damned well determined to enjoy myself regardless of what might happen.

The Hospital of the Good Samaritan, where the PDI Conference would be held, was only two blocks from my hotel. Good Sam is a big hospital, so finding the auditorium took some trial and error, but not too much. I soon met some fellow panic/anxiety people in the auditorium lobby and we began chatting about our experiences with an friendly and instant empathy; it was like a scene from the film Close Encounters where we had all been drawn to this place by a common mysterious impulse (grin). Then, Dr. Shipko cheerfully showed up and, yes, I gave him a friendly hug.

Gradually, more and more people arrived. Ultimately, I think there was about 30 or 40 attendees. I had expected a much larger audience, but was somewhat relieved by the smaller crowd. And, thus, the 2nd annual PDI Conference began.

Dr. Shipko opened the conference with a talk about panic disorder (PD) and its association with Gastroesophegial Reflux Disorder (GERD). He presented his overview of CCK's role in the PD-GERD connection and some impressive data on alprazolam's effectiveness in such cases. He also suggested yet another alternate name for PD; which I think went something like Polyneuronic Ectopia (sp?). The reasoning behind this name, if I remember correctly, was mainly to reinforce the fact that PD is not a single disorder, but has several biological mechanisms.

Dr. Shipko then introduced me and I stepped up to the podium. I presented my talk on observations of civilian and veteran experiences of PD and fear in general; making the point that severe panic attacks are worse than facing death and can overwhelm even the bravest of people. I also discussed issues of "escape" and "loss of control" in the context of military history, veteran experiences, and parallels with common civilian experiences of PD. (Essay version of talk)

Next, Dr. Stuppy presented a talk on Heart Rate Variability (HRV), salivary hormone testing, and other related issues. His HRV data for severe PD was very impressive. But what I found most profound, from a clinical perspective, was the potential for new salivary hormone testing. Basically, such a test is based on a simple sample of saliva, it is more accurate than blood tests, and it allows measuring the levels of a variety of hormones. Simply put, this offers a fantastic advance in the diagnosis and prognosis of PD! Not only is a medical test for biological PD only years away, but such a test will show exactly which hormones are off balance and suggest exactly which medication(s) will be most effective in each patient's case! Obviously, this is an incredible advance over the default diagnosis and prognosis guessing games of today!

Then came Lori Hurley's presentation. With cheerful boldness, Lori avoided the podium and simply started a lively interactive discussion with the audience. This was a welcome change as all the lecturing was wearing down the crowd; especially one person who had fallen asleep and was loudly snoring (actually, the person's PD had kept him up for the last 30 plus hours, so it was understandable). Lori talked much with the audience about the hereditary and family aspects of PD.

At noon, we had a lunch break. We gathered at the Good Sam's cafeteria; which made great guacamole burgers I must say.

The conference then continued with Dr. Finerman who discussed the Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) aspects of PD related GERD. He described how GERD irritated the tissue of the throat and how that related to the swallowing problems many of us PD folks experience. He also went into some detail regarding GERD irritation of the inner ear and sinuses.

Next, Roger Reynolds, a sufferer of severe PD, spoke about his long and traumatic history with the disorder. He addressed how extremely disabling his PD had been, and how effectively he had hidden his suffering from others.

The final speaker was Dr. Friedman, a psychologist. Like Lori, he too choose an informal and interactive discussion with the audience. He started out OK, but soon stirred up a hornet nest addressing a question regarding anger and PD. In his view, PD patients often express anger at various things, but such anger is ultimately caused by patients being frustrated with themselves for not trying hard enough to overcome their PD. There was NO WAY that I would let that statement go unchallenged! I responded that PD sufferers have plenty of reasons to be angry that have nothing to do with introspection; namely, diagnostic frustrations, naive health professionals, medication misconceptions, overzealous therapists, and unethical marketing. I was more than a little annoyed with Friedman since he only appeared at the conference for his own presentation and missed all the other very enlightening talks earlier.

As the conference wound down, everyone gathered in the lobby for refreshments and conversations. Later, Dr. Shipko, Dr. Stuppy, Lori, her husband, and myself went out to a nice restaurant and had dinner together. We got to know each other much better on a personal level. Dr. Shipko joked that no one would believe I have PD after how well I managed. I did fare very well that day, but I owed much to Xanax and was quite exhausted by the end of the day. After dinner, the bunch of us shook hands and hugged and went our separate ways.

Part 3 - After the Conference

The day after the PDI Conference was Thursday, June 11. When I had made my original travel plans, a month earlier, I figured I should make the most of my trip to LA and allow a week for visiting ASAP friends or seeing the sights and such. However, my hotel was not in the best part of town, I was getting paranoid about how expensive everything was, I really didn't want to go places and wander about alone, I had been so focused on the conference that I hadn't planned anything else, and I immediately ran into complications making plans with local ASAP friends; Lori had to leave town and I had forgotten to get Kendra's phone number. My return flight wasn't scheduled until June 17th, and the prospect of just sitting around in my hotel room for a week was too much to bear (visions of Howard Hughes' final years).

Feeling somewhat desperate, I called my airline about arranging an earlier flight home. Of course, airlines have all these complicated fare schemes and financial penalties for rescheduling flights. It turned out that if I wanted to go home Friday or Saturday, it would cost me an extra $900! Geez, my round trip fare was only $500. However, I could arrange to leave on Sunday for only a $150 penalty. So I agreed to a Sunday flight; only leaving me stuck in my hotel room for a few more days.

Shortly after changing my flight plans, the phone rang. It was Kendra! By some miracle, she had figured out how to call me. Talking with her greatly relieved my sense of isolation. Yet, we still had problems making plans. Like me, she had driving problems too. The public transit options still looked grim. Any plans we would make depended entirely on finding someone to pick me up; and such arrangements were complicated by the fact that her friends were either graduating from colleges or tied up at work. The situation was very uncertain and, now that I had changed my flight plans, we were also pressed for time. It seemed unlikely that anything could be arranged.

Friday morning, things still didn't seem very promising. I walked over to the Good Sam hospital and had lunch in the cafeteria; a much cheaper and better tasting alternative to the hotel room service. Once back at the hotel, Kendra called again. One of her woman friends was willing to pick me up and show me around the nightclubs in Pasadena! This wasn't a blind date, simply a friendly social opportunity.

So she picked me up and drove me to Pasadena, where we ended up meeting some other friends of hers at a nightclub. I even learned a bit of California culture when I was introduced to the practice of squeezing fresh lime juice into a bottle of Corona beer. After a few social hours, she drove me back and we wished each other well.

Saturday worked out nicely too! Another kind friend of Kendra picked me up in the afternoon and took me to meet Kendra, herself, and friends. We hung out together, talking about PD and the Internet, and enjoyed some good Chinese takeout food.

Overall, Kendra did a great job of off-line support. She not only helped me feel less isolated, but also introduced me to some wonderful folks and fun times.

On Sunday, my departure day, I was very anxious about getting to the airport on time. After all, I had so much trouble getting from the airport to the hotel that I wasn't willing to take any chances of missing my flight. I ordered an early wake-up call, took a milligram of Xanax and I was prepared to spend a fortune on taxi cab fare. After triple checking to see that I packed everything, I left my room and went to the hotel desk to check out.

While checking out, this tall Egyptian-looking guy walked up to me and asked if I was some person he was supposed to take to the airport. With some confusion, I explained that I was going to the airport, but I probably wasn't the person he was looking for. Then the hotel person explained that the guy was the driver for the airport shuttle; that mystical shuttle that had eluded me at the airport days before! This sudden stoke of serendipity saved me from the jaws of an astronomical cab fare!

I got to the airport three hours early. Even after running about to correct my return-flight ticket changes, I had enough time to get bored. I flew from LA to Cincinnati, Ohio, and looked down at colorful landscapes and passed through some magnificent cloudscapes. My connecting flight from Cincinnati to Philadelphia was delayed half an hour due to severe weather; lightning, hail, and tornado warnings. But I was in a courageous frame of mind and had bonded once again with my love of flying.

The plane took off at about 11:00 PM. We ascended into nighttime clouds that flashed with the glow of lightning. The plane rattled with some mild turbulence as I watched the starboard wing wobble in the speeding fog. It was just like that episode from Twilight Zone, The Movie, where the flight panicked passenger watched the gremlin claw away at the jet's engine; only I was actually enjoying myself.

I landed safely in Philadelphia shortly after midnight. My ever reliable brother Aaron picked me up at the airport and drove me home. Overall, the trip was more expensive than I had planned, but it was well worth it. I learned allot at the PDI Conference, personally met more ASAP folks, and got some good exposure therapy in the process.

The one sad undercurrent to the whole experience reached me today. As I was writing this account, I was just informed that my psychotherapist, Marie Coleman Nelson, had died while I was away. She hadn't directly helped me with my PD, but she greatly helped me survive a period of suicidal depression during my early years of panic attacks. Furthermore, I had much respect for her as a person; she was an adventurous woman who spent some years living in Africa and was always willing to be provocative in both her personal and professional life. Though she was about 50 years my senior, she was one of the most intelligent and exciting women I have known. Her death is bittersweet to me; though I will miss her, I also know she lived a full life and I can only hope to do as well.