In 1996, I left the UK and lived in Orlando, Florida. I had left the employment of British Gas, taking a redundancy package that would help me live in America. This story is about what happened on my flight to Florida.

In-flight panic attack.

I had planned to live in my home in Orlando, Florida. I had enough money from my redundancy package to allow me to live there for quite a while. The week before my 29th birthday, I had a going away party at the Hill Park Memorial Working Men's Club in Fareham, where I lived. Many of my extended family had driven down from London to celebrate my birthday, and a lot more had driven down to make sure I was leaving to go to America the following week. I think my sister couldn't make the party as she had a previous engagement she couldn't get out of. We had a great time, and I was given a good send-off. I remember having a local cockle man bring in enough jellied eels to feed the five thousand, and none of my family liked it. If I remember, my mate Les loved it. 

The following week, on my actual birthday, the 23rd of January, my mum and dad drove me to the airport to drop me off for my flight to America. My mum was distraught, crying her eyes out because her baby was leaving her to go and live in America, but unusually, she didn't want to hang about at the airport to see me off. I was pretty pleased as it meant I could get to the departure lounge and have a full English breakfast before catching my early flight to Orlando. I saw nothing unusual in them leaving so quickly as I waved goodbye to my mum and dad.

After boarding my British Airways flight to Orlando and settling in my seat, we soon took off, and I watched a film on the onboard television screen. As the film finished, we were flying somewhere over the Atlantic, and I decided to get a drink. While waiting for the air hostess, I suddenly felt sick and shivered. I didn't want to be sick; I just suddenly became very nervous and felt the blood drain from my face as my hands and body started to shake. I had palpitations, I was sweating, and I had a headache. As the air hostess approached me, she noticed I didn't look very well and immediately asked if I was ok. I replied that I didn't know but asked her for a glass of water. She quickly came back with a glass of water and another air hostess.

I drank the water the hostess had given me and asked for another, telling her I thought I would be all right. I was given another glass of water, and one of the hostesses went away while the other watched over me for a while until the colour returned to my face. I explained to her that I was leaving the UK to live in America, and she thought it may have just been a sudden loss of nerves and went away. For some reason, I looked at my watch to see the time. I knew that my panic attack had something to do with my sister Karen, and I couldn't stop thinking about her. The rest of the flight passed quickly. I watched many films and didn't feel ill for the rest of the flight.

When I arrived in Orlando, I got through customs and immigration quite quickly with no hold-ups. I went to the hire car pick-up centre, collected my car and drove straight to my home at Meadow Woods in BVL, Orlando. It was pretty late in England by now, but I had promised to call my mum as soon as I arrived safely at my home in Orlando. I rang my mum and dad's number, and my mum answered the phone very quickly. She sounded okay, and I told her I had arrived safely, but when I immediately asked her what was wrong with my sister, she burst into tears and handed the phone to my dad.

My dad asked me how the flight went, and I immediately asked him what was wrong with my sister. He asked what I meant, and I told him about my panic attack on the plane and even mentioned the time of the panic attack. For a few seconds, my dad had to stop himself from crying, but he was shortly able to tell me that at the precise time I had my panic attack on the plane, my sister had been going to the theatre at the hospital for a serious operation. After a short time, my mum came back on the telephone, and I was able to tell her my story about my panic attack and how I looked at my watch to see what the time was. I told her that I knew something had been happening to my sister, and she told me the story my dad had just told me.

It turned out that my sister knew about the day of the operation for a while but forbade my mum and dad from telling me in case it stopped me from going to live in America on the same day. She knew I had been planning this move for a long time and didn't want to give me a reason not to follow my dreams. Luckily, my sister had the operation and came out on the other side. I would not have been able to do anything for my sister on this day, but I could have been there for her as she had been there for me on so many occasions in my life. 

It seems the connection between me and my sister is very close. I knew from halfway across the Atlantic that something was wrong with her even though I had never been given any idea about her operation. My sister loved me and could not take the chance that I might stay in the UK to continue to pester, annoy and otherwise be a horrible little brother to her. I love you, Karen, call me anytime you need me.