Living with Anxiety – Karl Part 3

I have a love / hate relationship with the medical profession. My big brother is a nurse, and he is fantastic at it, My kid sister is an ambulance driver (she is also fantastic). I didn’t enter this type of vocation. I would be dreadful.  I can handle my own blood, but not the blood of others.

The last time I went to see the doctor was about 8 year ago. I was having some chest pains, Anxiety and chest pain sort of go together.

So I made an appointment, The doctor was fresh out of med school. I walked into the surgery and did the usual explaining as to what was wrong. With chest pains they always bring out the ear phone things, (can you see why I’m not in the medicine industry?) She breathed on to the cold cup thingy and placed it on my chest, moving around checking various places. Up to this point she had hardly said a word, but now stated she was going to leave and would be back in a minute.

I sat waiting in this sterile room with a wall of books.

Eventually she returned. She was carrying a plastic cup filled with water and 2 white tablets. this got me worried.

She explained she had gone to the head doctor for advice and he had suggested that phoning an ambulance and feeding me aspirin would prevent the on coming heart attack.

The whole doctors surgery erupted with panic as I left very quickly. The ambulance passed me as I pretty much ran down the road.

Never tell a panic sufferer he is having a heart attack, it doesn’t go down to well.

When I entered the hospital, I was sent to the Shock room (an unfortunate name I agree). The room was a dark place, it was a large room with a single bed in the centre, on the left was a wall of screens, you know the ones in which you place X rays, on the right was an arch with a lit corridor on the other side.

A nurse was pumping morphine in to my left arm, as I listened to 3 doctors discussing the “procedure” I didn’t understand most of what was said, but I got the gist, it involved a large needle being put through my arm pit and into my chest. Then was something about a pipe with a bottle connected to it (it was all a bit of a blur, Morphine does that to you)

I laid there and watched a doctor push this (what seemed to me) a massive metallic needle into my side.

I’m not sure if my parents turned up before or after this procedure, but I do remember laying on the bed and turning to my right and seeing the silhouette of both my Mum and Dad standing in the archway.

The next thing I remember was being in a different room, it was dark with only the light from the open door to see. It seemed busy outside the room, people kept walking past (including the chap from the ambulance, he now had a bandage around his head.) While I was in this room, A nurse gave me a bed bath, My brother helped me have a pee (he is a nurse after all).

It was in this room I had my first Panic attack.

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