Did anyone else at the PAN Forum have his or her heart leap into his or her throat when they got on the hotel elevator? Anyone else say silently, "Uh-oh, time to act bravely and ignore the sick feeling and shortness of breath? Turn around and face the door and pretend it wasn't a glass (probably plastic) elevator? What floor are we on? Four, phew! At least it is not eight or ten!?"

Anyone else get to the top of the Museé d'Orsay only to find some of the art accessible only by "catwalks" high above the nothingness of the converted railroad station? And had to cross them walking down the center, eyes fixed ahead and holding tightly onto someone's arm?

What about the upper decks of Wrigley Field or any number of other ballparks or opera houses or theaters?

Anyone else find his or herself not three feet off the ground on a ladder up to an apartment loft only to panic and retreat in near tears?

One last test. Anyone else hate those stairs that have no backs to the steps? I mean, I do know that I won't fall through, but getting up and sometimes even getting down them takes an act of willpower.

Sadly, I could go on. This sense of panic at heights--or a sense of "heights"-- is new to me with PD. In my pre-PD days, I climbed to the top of St Paul's Cathedral in London--and I mean to the very top, walking around the outside of the "nipple" of the dome with just a railing surrounding it; I sat in one of the Plexiglas seats at the observation deck of the World Trade Center and swung my legs overlooking Manhattan; I walked the cliffs of Lands End in England...

But while I live outside of SF and travel across the Golden Gate Bridge at least weekly (and the lesser known and far longer Richmond Bride every couple or few weeks)--I don't get the same feeling. Not at all.

My past and the bridges lead me to believe this is not a typical fear of heights. It isn't fear of falling or jumping. It is a freezing panic.

Why?

Well, it may be crystal clear to some of you, but it took asking my shrink about it for me to be able to understand it. Since I have a lot of involuntary movement, and my spatial sense is affected, maybe I sense of lack of control in those situations and panic as a natural result.

I put forth that perhaps mine is an accurate assessment of a situation, given that I do have involuntary movement and a gee-whoppered sense of space (and time), but knew even as I said it, I knew I was making up excuses for not learning to overcome it, at least somewhat.

For anyone who identifies with this long post, I will tell you what Bob the Shrink (who is a smart, even wise, man) suggested. Go with the fear, go into the fear, walk into it and embrace it. (Damn, they always say the one thing you don't want to hear.) He recommended going down to the Hyatt Hotel at the Embarcadero here in SF--big hotel, see-through elevator. Get in and push a floor number you are comfortable with. Then get out and when you are ready, get back in and push a higher number and ride the elevator to that floor. And don't just ride the elevator cringing by the door. Walk to the outside and hold on to the grab bar. Hold on tightly--more and more as you need to. Use it. Open your eyes. He was suggesting I experience the reality of safety in that situation.

I allowed as how there is a bar on the top floor which might provide incentive...and just writing this I remember that most hotels now require card keys to work the elevators above the public floors--ha ha, maybe I won't be able to embrace the fear after all!

It makes sense though, to go into it in a controlled, safe environment. Safe, of course, is relative and accidents do happen. But, if it is a question of living life in the fear of what might happen--but is highly unlikely (I won't make the obvious connections) or working consciously to not allow that fear to reign--I will choose the latter.

We all live lives balanced between safety and danger, security and insecurity. I would allow as how there is no real safety or solid security in this world...only that which we make for each other. And even then, forces of nature can mock us.

We have friends whose beloved dog is dying of cancer. It is so sad. She has been such a companion, a member of the family. And she is why I have never been able to really have pets. I have lived with cats and cared for them before, but never let them into my life that way. I would like to be able to.

I learned to do it with people, learned it was better to embrace the fear...the insecurity...or the surety of change, possible loss. Far better to love and perhaps lose than never to have loved at all. Far better to live and die than never to have lived at all. Learning that those two things has been my saving grace.

So, this post is really also about how to live--with fear, panic, insecurity, disease--with at least a modicum of confidence and contentment. Embrace life. Embrace love. As Quintus Horatius Flaccus, aka Horace, the Ancient Roman poet said, “Seize the day: trust not to the morrow.”