Chapter 6 - WHY I GOT SICK
The doctors eventually explained what happened.
There was no single villain.
No mysterious poison.
No secret disease everyone had missed for years.
I had several risk factors that happened to line up badly.
I had recently started an estrogen-containing medication.
I had spent long stretches sitting during work breaks and studying for placement tests.
And the calf pain I ignored was likely connected to the clot that later traveled.
The doctor was careful.
“This is not something you caused.”
I looked at Mom.
Neither of us spoke.
Treatment worked.
My oxygen improved.
I stayed in the hospital for several days.
There were medications I would need to take for months and follow-up appointments with specialists.
The bigger battle began after I went home.
Because physically, I was improving.
Emotionally, I no longer trusted my own judgment.
That was something nobody warned me about.
Every strange sensation became a question.
Is this serious?
Am I imagining it?
Am I overreacting?
Should I say something?
Will Mom roll her eyes?
One night, about two weeks after discharge, I woke with my heart racing.
I sat up and immediately panicked.
Mom heard me moving.
She came to the doorway.
“What’s wrong?”
“My heart’s beating fast.”
Her face tightened.
I could see the old response trying to arrive.
You’re anxious.
Go back to sleep.
Instead, she said, “Do you want me to call the nurse line?”
I stared at her.
“Yes.”
She called.
The nurse asked questions.
We followed instructions.
It turned out to be anxiety that time.
Real anxiety.
When the call ended, Mom sat beside me.
“See?” I said bitterly. “I am dramatic.”
She looked at me.
“No.”
I expected reassurance.
Instead, she said something better.
“You were scared because something scary happened to you.”
That was different.
Not every symptom meant emergency.
But every symptom deserved enough attention to decide.
That was all I had needed from her the night before I collapsed.
May you like
Not perfect medical knowledge.
Belief.
