Just to toss in a reply mate...
I've been dealing with anxiety for a whole long time. The heart part hit me in April 1995. So that's...almost 13 years I've been doing it. I don't have to touch my wrist, neck, or temple to know what my pulse rate is anymore. I know exactly how many steps I can go up before I have to stand still for a few minutes.
The EKG, I've found, for me...is really really nice for a few months after I get one. But is it worth the money? Not really. I've been out of shape, smoking and drinking caffiene for as long as I can remember. I walk in nice weather. Mostly I just go to a supermarket and go up and down the aisles for a half hour once a week, that's my big exercise.
13 years and I'm fine. Still. And I can't shake it either mate.
The night thing...what happens to me is I will breathe myself awake. Like sit bolt upright out of nowhere and take in a huge breath like I haven't been breathing. Probably haven't, but that's sleep apnea. I'd imagine my pulse would be quite fast if you aren't breathing for a few minutes. It gets cranky with the lack of oxygen and all that.
I just wanted to share one more personal experience. I was out in the heat, at the University of Iowa, last summer. 31 years old, carrying a sofa up some non-air conditioned stairs. With some help, I'm not that cool. It was 107 degrees, and in Iowa that is godawful hot. The flat ground radiates heat back up and blah blah. It was hot, alright. Took us an hour to get that thing up five floors. You know I checked my pulse after that, I was sweating like I was being held at gunpoint. I don't really get exercise and that was extreme...my fibromyalgia was screaming (whole other beast, that). Checked my pulse...it was like 170..seriously. I started to of course, lose my mind. But somehow I withheld the need to scream for help or dial 911 or anything like that. I drank about 5.8 metric tons of water and sat for a half hour. It took a long time, but after maybe 45 minutes, it was back to 80, which is my normal resting rate, actually.
Imagine that. Since then, I think if I was ever going to die from strain, that would have done it. Later that summer, my father was painting his house with a 280 pound fiberglass ladder. He's about 210 pounds and at the top. I was at the bottom watching because well, he's of the mindset that if you want to get it done right...blah blah, even though I'm a far better painter...but nm that. So he gets a bee in his face and flings himself back off the damn ladder. You know those stories...I caught (most) of him with my right arm, he didn't hurt himself because of that, and I caught the bloody ladder in my left. That strain from holding them both, yeah, it made me dizzy and sick, I was vomiting trying to breathe, but I just dropped the ladder, and my old man, who was unappreciating, and fell back in the grass, world spinning. That was the end you know, I was dizzy, I could hear the blood going through my head, literally. I was throwing up to the side, the sky was spinning, that was The End! Wasn't it?
Somehow, almost a year later, I'm typing this reply.
Funny, isn't it :)