They are treated, as almost every other mental event, with a combination of medication and therapy, if they are treated at all. Panic attacks occur in 3.5 percent of the adult population in the United States and, I would presume, about the same percent of the population in Canada. One could be said to have had a panic attack, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th ed., if there is “a discrete period of intense fear or discomfort, in which four (or more) of the following symptoms developed abruptly and reached a peak within 10 minutes”: heart palpitations, rapid heart beat, sweating, shortness of breath, feeling of choking, chest pain, abdominal distress, lightheadedness, derealization (feelings of unreality), depersonalization (being detached from oneself), fear of losing control or going crazy, or a fear of dying. For the rest of the day-for the rest of my life-I would be on the lookout for all those things that strike from out of the blue.Ī panic attack is an internal event that strikes from out of the blue. The helmet I wore to protect my noggin from the impact of collisions proved a solid defense from the attack of the angry bird. There was something oddly disconcerting in having a two-and-a-half ounce creature repeatedly plunge into my head with beak and claw. Black wings were beating around me furiously. I fall easily but I did not fall on this day. It wasn’t a forceful hit, but it is strong enough to knock me off balance. Suddenly, something slammed into my helmet. She was dumped in the middle of this street where they found her, a street deserted on that night and other nights, but one populated by bikers, like myself, and other active people during the day. Leanne probably didn’t even know what hit her when the bullet discharged from the gun held by Joseph Beauregard and pierced her skull. The memorial is an engraved stone with the words, “Death leaves a heartache no one can heal / Love leaves a memory no one can steal.” I see this memorial whenever I pass by and always imagine the carnage on the scene that day. I had just passed the memorial to Leanne Freeman on Unwin Avenue by the Richard L. I was on the Martin Goodman trail in Toronto moving east. The sun was shining and it was one hundred degrees, hot, very hot, but I was drinking lots of water and feeling that I could peddle for the rest of the day and into the night.
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