michellew
09-04-12, 20:07
Hey everyone, just a (really long) post to thank everyone who replied to my ridiculous threads over the past month or two as I was suffering quite severely with a bout of HA: I didn't sleep, I barely ate, I skipped my lectures, I went through the days in a lonely sluggish haze punctuated by constant worrying. Eventually after being let down by some of my friends who just couldn't handle what I'd turned into, I broke. I didn't leave my bed, I stopped eating altogether, broke things off with a guy i'd been seeing, cried non-stop although before I couldn't even bring myself to get upset about anything. I'd completely lost faith in people, because even though I had eventually started talking and telling people why I acted the way I did, no one showed any sympathy or understanding. They simply told me to stop worrying.
Stop worrying.
I'm sure we've all been told this by frustrated friends and family and I'm sure we all know how infuriatingly ignorant it is for someone to say this. I can understand that they don't know what it's like and so I don't hold it against them, but I don't understand how they can justify ending a friendship based solely on the fact that their friend is going through too hard a time for them to deal with. They quit on me and I quit on life.
My HA began years ago when my mom died after a long illness but it escalated this year in september when I found a lump on my tonsil. The lump was examined by my GP who grew worried and referred me to an ENT. While I waited to get an appointment, I grew increasingly anxious about every single part of me and the potential damage an undetected cancer could have already caused. When he told me I would have to have them removed in a few months to examine the (probably benign) mass, everything went downhill from there. I developed insomnia, head pains that would nearly knock me out, tingling sensations, severe panic and dizzy spells, half-body weakness, chest pains, stomach pains, derealization, severe muscle tension and eventually agoraphobia. I ordered every test I could think of and everything came back perfectly normal. I went to a grand total of 6 different doctors in the space of 2 months, convinced they were all lying to me or that they had missed something, or that they simply didn't care and were writing me off as a textbook health anxiety sufferer without considering anything else. What made it even worse was my college course: Anytime we would study a disease I would convince myself I had it. It came to the point where I couldn't go to lectures because I would start having panic attacks. I didn't feel human and wanted more than anything to be normal. I had hit rock bottom.
So when I was being wheeled into the operation room for my tonsillectomy, although I cried, I felt numb. I didn't know why I cried for my life when I didn't even feel like I had one anymore. The remnants of a life that I had at that point were being engulfed by constant fear, uneasiness and a sense of impending doom that made it impossible for me to enjoy anything. Still, I cried, thinking I would never wake up again and my whole life had been wasted.
When I did wake up, I yelled for nurses to tell me if I was ok, to tell me if i had bled during surgery and if the mass extended beyond the tonsillar beds. I was being rude but I was in an altered state of consciousness and didn't care about anything but my own health. The reply made me feel terrible. "Please be quiet, there are other patients in here. The surgery was fine." I looked around and saw dozens of sick people. Really sick people as opposed to the pretend sick that I convinced myself I was. I realised how complacent they were and how happy some of them were to still be alive after possibly major surgery. Even if some of these people don't live for very much longer, they'll still be living more of a life than me, because they don't let illness become them like I do. Sickness isn't part of their personalities, they don't talk about it obsessively and think about nothing else, even though they have far more reason to do so. I suddenly felt ashamed of myself, but at the same time encouraged to pull myself up from the bottom and start working my way up for a better life.
I have not had a panic attack in a week, nor have I let myself worry that I will become sick. I am taking my recovery day-by-day and avoiding the dark thoughts. Surrounding myself in people who love me for who I am and not people who would desert me for what I had become. I even decided that I am going to study to become a medical doctor as a post-graduate course after I finish my undergraduate, because if I am to continue being obsessed with health in my own way, I want to use it for good: to help people and make them feel better, like the doctors and nurses and even the patients did for me that day.
And if I get sick, I get sick. Until then I will keep trying to rebuild and find happiness, which I know I will and I know all of you will.
Stop worrying.
I'm sure we've all been told this by frustrated friends and family and I'm sure we all know how infuriatingly ignorant it is for someone to say this. I can understand that they don't know what it's like and so I don't hold it against them, but I don't understand how they can justify ending a friendship based solely on the fact that their friend is going through too hard a time for them to deal with. They quit on me and I quit on life.
My HA began years ago when my mom died after a long illness but it escalated this year in september when I found a lump on my tonsil. The lump was examined by my GP who grew worried and referred me to an ENT. While I waited to get an appointment, I grew increasingly anxious about every single part of me and the potential damage an undetected cancer could have already caused. When he told me I would have to have them removed in a few months to examine the (probably benign) mass, everything went downhill from there. I developed insomnia, head pains that would nearly knock me out, tingling sensations, severe panic and dizzy spells, half-body weakness, chest pains, stomach pains, derealization, severe muscle tension and eventually agoraphobia. I ordered every test I could think of and everything came back perfectly normal. I went to a grand total of 6 different doctors in the space of 2 months, convinced they were all lying to me or that they had missed something, or that they simply didn't care and were writing me off as a textbook health anxiety sufferer without considering anything else. What made it even worse was my college course: Anytime we would study a disease I would convince myself I had it. It came to the point where I couldn't go to lectures because I would start having panic attacks. I didn't feel human and wanted more than anything to be normal. I had hit rock bottom.
So when I was being wheeled into the operation room for my tonsillectomy, although I cried, I felt numb. I didn't know why I cried for my life when I didn't even feel like I had one anymore. The remnants of a life that I had at that point were being engulfed by constant fear, uneasiness and a sense of impending doom that made it impossible for me to enjoy anything. Still, I cried, thinking I would never wake up again and my whole life had been wasted.
When I did wake up, I yelled for nurses to tell me if I was ok, to tell me if i had bled during surgery and if the mass extended beyond the tonsillar beds. I was being rude but I was in an altered state of consciousness and didn't care about anything but my own health. The reply made me feel terrible. "Please be quiet, there are other patients in here. The surgery was fine." I looked around and saw dozens of sick people. Really sick people as opposed to the pretend sick that I convinced myself I was. I realised how complacent they were and how happy some of them were to still be alive after possibly major surgery. Even if some of these people don't live for very much longer, they'll still be living more of a life than me, because they don't let illness become them like I do. Sickness isn't part of their personalities, they don't talk about it obsessively and think about nothing else, even though they have far more reason to do so. I suddenly felt ashamed of myself, but at the same time encouraged to pull myself up from the bottom and start working my way up for a better life.
I have not had a panic attack in a week, nor have I let myself worry that I will become sick. I am taking my recovery day-by-day and avoiding the dark thoughts. Surrounding myself in people who love me for who I am and not people who would desert me for what I had become. I even decided that I am going to study to become a medical doctor as a post-graduate course after I finish my undergraduate, because if I am to continue being obsessed with health in my own way, I want to use it for good: to help people and make them feel better, like the doctors and nurses and even the patients did for me that day.
And if I get sick, I get sick. Until then I will keep trying to rebuild and find happiness, which I know I will and I know all of you will.