I think panic attacks can be mistaken for other ailments. Last fall, we were living in St. Joseph, Mo and a company offered my husband a job in St. Louis, MO. I did not want to move to St. L at all. (I wanted to move to Colorado, but that wasn't an option at the time, but here I am) Anyway, my husband was already in St. L for training while I was selling the house in St. J. I went to visit him one weekend so we could look at houses. All day Saturday we looked with a realtor. The houses were more expensive for fewer square feet. We couldn't find anything in our price range that we liked. On Sunday, the realtor was driving us around. I was near tears because all of my being was saying that I did not want to move to St. Louis. I was trying to be stoic and supportive of my husband's job. I was snacking. And trying to smile. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I was gasping for breath. The realtor stopped the car, I jumped out, and my husband tried to calm me: in the middle of the road! They think I was choking on a piece of snack. I know I was having a panic attack. All's well that end's well. Love and Light, Lynn