July 21, 2025
Hi Friends,
Well, a funny thing happened on my flight home from the East Coast…
OK—maybe not funny ha-ha, but letgo’s be honest: you might not have opened this newsletter if I titled it, “I Had a Panic Attack on the airplane.”
The irony? We weren’t even in the air when it happened.
I’m not afraid of flying, and turbulence doesn’t bother me. But confinement? That’s my personal hell.
On Monday, I was flying home from Rochester with a layover in Baltimore. Because of East Coast weather, my first flight was delayed and I had just six minutes to make my connection. I ran to the connecting flight, barely boarded in time and sat down in row 13. And… we didn’t move. For over an hour.
No updates. No movement. Just… sitting.
Eventually, we were told we could use the restroom. I went up front, and that’s where I completely lost it—full-blown panic attack in the lavatory.
When I came out, I explained to the flight attendants that I have anxiety and panic disorder, and I needed to get off the plane. Normally, I can de-escalate with jumping jacks or pacing—tricks I learned from Dr. Doug Lisle—but none of that is allowed on an airplane.
The two Southwest flight attendants were incredible. Kind, calm, compassionate. One used to be a social worker and asked what normally helps me. I said I’d used a service dog for 25 years, but mine had recently passed, and the new pup isn’t trained yet.
She laughed and said, “What if I got you a new one?”
As fate would have it, there was a woman in the front row with a trained service dog—and she let me sit next to her for the rest of the ordeal. Four hours on the tarmac, no info, no idea if we’d get home. But that sweet dog kept me grounded.
Eventually, the pilot announced we’d return to the gate—but then, a new route was found. It would take longer but avoid the storms, so off we went. What should’ve been 4.5 hours turned into nearly 12.
For those who’ve never dealt with anxiety, it might just sound like a long delay. But for those who do—you know how hard this was.
When I finally got home, I was a mess. My therapist suggested a trick I’d never tried: dunking my face in a bowl of ice water for 30 seconds. Apparently it activates the parasympathetic nervous system. And—shockingly—it worked. My heart rate dropped, my panic eased.
Even though I’ve worked for years with Dr. Lisle and now also a trauma therapist, cancer has cranked my anxiety up to levels I’ve never known. Most days, I’ve felt so physically unwell from tthe cancer treatment that anxiety took a back seat—but now that I’m starting to feel better, it’s back with a vengeance.
Thankfully, I’m heading to Rancho La Puerta this Saturday. It’s my favorite healing place in the world. I’ll be teaching classes, but I’ll also be receiving lots of restorative treatments—sound healing, massage, and my personal favorite, Watsu.
Health update: My cortisol is still climbing (good!), but my lipase is also rising again (not so good). I’ll have a CT scan when I return, and I’ll keep you posted.