Ron and I showed up at the Bloodmobile in Williamstown this afternoon for my 1 PM appointment. We flunked the physical, too anemic, but I’m glad that we did.

I had a full blown panic attack for reasons that have nothing to do with giving blood or the workers.

The bloodmobile staff didn’t react as one might hope medical people would when a patient is in distress.  They smirked, bullied a little and argued.

The important thing is the reason why it happened. It occurred to me afterwards that this was the third time I reacted like this and interestingly enough, two of those times were here in Williamstown.

The first time it happened was on an airplane from Washington DC to Boston. The plane landed off schedule to allow a small, dark-haired woman to be taken off for medical care.

I got off the plane, too, and refused to get back on, fearing that something terrible would happen.

Earlier this year, similar event: I had started to join an exercise class at the local senior center but when I saw that the other participants were thin and nice-looking, I felt that I couldn’t stay there, that I didn’t belong and something terrible would happen if I stayed.

I’m not sure of the source but it’s clearly a trauma I suffered earlier in life, or maybe the sum of similar traumas. Good-looking people terrify me. Maybe some day I’ll understand why.