All By Myself

This morning I woke to an empty world.

The alarm went off at the usual time. I reached across the bed and felt a cold pillow. I presumed Ian had already got up so I punched the button on the clock, rolled back over and snuggled down under the duvet waiting for a call of "Tea's up". I guess I must have dozed off because when I next glanced at the clock a half hour had gone by. I couldn't understand why Ian had let me sleep in. When I called out to him from the top of the stairs but he didn't answer. Shampus didn't even bark like he usually does.

The kitchen was empty, the back door still locked from the night before. No Ian, no dog. Ian's jacket hung on the hook by the front door; his keys and mobile on the hall table. Thinking he must have taken Shampus for a walk and left his keys, I put the front door on the latch and jumped in the shower. I was going to be late but nothing was new there. By the time I'd dried my hair and carefully applied my make-up I was starting to worry. Thoughts raced though my mind, maybe there had been an accident. I left a quick note, "Gone to look for you," and trotted off in the the direction of the local park.

It was pushing eight o'clock yet the streets weren't their usual hive of morning activity. The top of our road is on a major bus route and there are always a queue of people waiting for the 111 to take them to work. The bus shelter was empty. The roads were quiet. There wasn't a single person on the street except me. There wasn't even the usual flock of pigeons that converge on the roof of number three because stupid Mrs. Ford insists on feeding the bloody things every morning. No sound except the clip-clip of my heels as I made my way to the park where Ian takes Shampus for his run.

Our local park is not much more than an uneven open field with a tarmac path around the perimeter. There used to be some swings and one of those wooden climbing frame things but the big kids came along one night and vandalised it all. The council didn't have the money to replace it so now all that's left is a few square feet of that squidgy rubber matting.

I didn't find Ian in the park. There wasn't so much as a squirrel there. The only sound was the wind swishing through the trees and as I stood there listening, I could almost hear my heart pounding. There wasn't even any aeroplane noise. Living under the flightpath, you get so used to it that you tune it out. You automatically turn the tv volume up as they approach and then back down again when they've passed. It becomes second nature. I can't remember what we did before remote controls. Maybe we were constantly getting up.

I've seen panic attacks mistaken for heart attacks dozens of times on tv. The doctor comes in with the chart, flips a few pages and announces with a comforting smile, "You're going to be okay. It was just an anxiety attack." I never really believed that anyone could be foolish enough to mistake the two. Now I know different. I thought I was going to die right there in that crappy little park. I felt my chest begin to tighten, my ears were throbbing, my lungs burning, I clutched at my chest willing my throat to open and let in some air; the pain was unbearable. Trust me, it feels exactly like you would imagine a heart attack to feel.

Of course, I passed out. Lack of oxygen will do that to you.
When I came to and finally gathered the will and energy to get back to my feet, there was nothing to do except head home.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON????