Woman with panic disorder quilts from home

By ROSE MARY REIZ
The Flint Journal
Published March 12, 2007, 12:25 PM CDT

BEAVERTON, Mich. -- Cindi Glinski's hand-sewn quilts travel the country to the homes of their purchasers.

Their creator barely can travel to the corner store. Glinski, 49 is a bubbly, articulate blonde with a great

sense of humor who suffers from agoraphobia, a panic disorder that makes it difficult for her to leave her

home in Beaverton, north of Midland. She dreads going to a store, a restaurant or the movies. Sometimes, 

gardening in her yard is a challenge. "If you'd told me 10 years ago that I'd be living like this, I'd have said

you were crazy," she said. "I never used to be this way." Growing up, Glinski was an outgoing girl who performed

in school musicals. Later, she was a busy, single mom raising four kids while working a series of jobs to make

ends meet. In the late 1990s, she was managing health food store, keeping up with the lives of her teenagers and

dating Frank Glinski, the man who became her husband. Her first panic attack seemed to come out of nowhere. 

"I was working at the store when suddenly I couldn't breathe. Customers asked, `Are you OK? You're as white as a ghost."' 

Glinski passed out on the shop floor. A few minutes later, she awoke, surrounded by concerned customers. Her heart

was pounding, her stomach churning, and pain was radiating from her chest to her arm. Certain she was dying of a heart

attack, she was rushed to a nearby hospital. Tests showed nothing wrong. Glinski was not convinced. Her brother had

his first heart attack at age 42. Four family members, including her father, died of heart disease. The alarming symptoms

came again and again, in terrifying waves. Glinski made numerous trips to hospitals and doctors. "The doctors were saying

it was a hernia or intestinal problems or irritable bowel syndrome, but it didn't feel like it," she said. "I just knew

that it was either my heart, or I had some kind of cancer they hadn't found yet. I kept saying, `I know I'm going to die."' 

Each day was a white-knuckle endurance test. Each doctor had a different diagnosis, but all agreed there was nothing

seriously wrong. Glinski began to develop a new worry: Was she crazy? At least Frank was in her corner. He didn't pretend

to understand but assured her that he loved her and that they'd find a solution. "I felt like I was crazy, but Frank kept

telling me: `You're beautiful. You're wonderful. I want to marry you.' He'd hold my hand and for a few minutes, I'd feel

grounded and at peace." They married in 1998. By then, Glinski could barely work. Frank encouraged her to stay home and

make her health a priority. "I'd sit for hours staring out the window," she said. "Relatives thought I was crazy or just too

lazy to work. Neighbors thought I was unfriendly because I stayed inside." Glinski began watching a television quilting show

and felt a stirring of interest. Frank gamely went to the fabric store and bought material. Her first creations were "a mess,"

but her husband insisted on rescuing them from the wastebasket. Gradually, Glinski's quilting skills improved, but her health

didn't. Since she hadn't had success with doctors, she gathered her courage and visited a nearby psychologist. He listened

to her for 10 minutes and asked, "Have you ever heard of agoraphobia?" Glinski remembered a television story about

a woman who couldn't leave her home because of the condition. "I told him, `No, no, no. I don't have that. I can

leave the house if I have to."' Glinski's physical symptoms were so overwhelming that it was hard for her to believe

her problem was psychological. But she was ready to consider anything. After her first counselor left his practice,

she found her way to the office of Steve Haupt, a clinical psychologist in Saginaw. She and her husband made several

test drives to his office before she was able to stay for an appointment. "Distances were a problem for me," she said.

"When Frank and I went out to eat, it had to be at the restaurant that was the closest. I couldn't go to church. I could 

only go to the store if it was nearby and wasn't busy." Haupt, who specializes in treating people with panic disorders, 

understood. He often has seen panic attacks rob clients of joy, peace and the ability to accomplish everyday tasks. 

"I don't think the average person realizes how debilitating these are," he said. "Some people can't continue working because

of them. They are more or less restricted to home, unable to shop, go to the movies or eat out." 

With allies like Haupt and her husband, Glinski is gaining confidence and making progress. She can leave the house more

frequently and for longer periods. She is daring to dream of places she'd like to go. "My short-term dream is to go to a fabric

store and spend the day there," she said. "I want to look at, touch and smell every piece of fabric." In the meantime, Glinski

gets her fabric from online sources and with the help of a husband "brave enough to shop in fabric stores with a bunch of women." 

Her quilting business, Cottontail Heirloom Quilts, is growing. 

Glinski also donates handmade hats for women undergoing chemotherapy and quilts to help raise funds for the fight against cystic fibrosis. 

Quilting is a good analogy for the internal work Glinski is doing -- taking apart and reassembling the pieces of her life. 

"When you quilt, the end result is better than the pieces you started with," she said. "Hopefully, the same will be true for me."