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About Me: Phobias

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Phobias are a bitch, you have two voices sitting on your shoulders, one is rational but the other tells you to run as fast as you can. I can pin point the very moment my phobias were triggered, in a dentist chair I was refused my Mothers presence in the room and was held down whilst I cried. I was left with zero trust in medical professionals and as I grew up I became more and more wary and anxious.

I’m the person who faints in the waiting room. I’m the person who breaks down in tears when I can’t cope and feel overwhelmed with emotions. I fear pain and needles, I fear not being in control, I fear having no one to rescue me and I fear not being able to escape.

I’ve been told I should be embarrassed at my behaviour, I’ve been told to grow up and I’ve been mocked for crying. I’ve had a nurse scan my records, ask me if I have children (I don't have any a decision I made a long time ago) then tell me “I can tell you don't as no parent would act as you are now”. I was fuming and insulted, I never spoke up for myself I was so ashamed.

I’m currently recovering from surgery. I made it. My heart is pounding.

This point has been a year and a half long journey. I self diagnosed but put off seeing a doctor because I knew I would face surgery if I was correct. I eventually had courage to make an appointment, my diagnosis was confirmed before Christmas and then I refused treatment. The pain and sickness came again and I had to face my fear, I was referred to the hospital. Four months later I saw a surgeon and then I was officially on a wait list. I started to have panic attacks. The stress had become overwhelming, the date was looming. I freaked out, my appointment was threaten with cancellation, my surgeon was mildly understanding, I was offered medication which I refused. Ironically I was anxious about anxiety drugs and I never took them. Phobias don’t make sense to outsiders. 

The night before I didn’t sleep, I was exhausted. I sat in the car and refused to get out. I made the walk to the hospital door, I got into the waiting room, I made in to the bed and I put on a gown. I cried on the operating table. I woke up with my husband beside me. 

I’m anxious about recovery, I’ve cried out in pain and I am not a good patient. 

I am looking forward and trying to stay positive. My surgery was routine, no need to worry, a walk in the park they told me. I was never facing serious illness, it was a common problem and my body had simply malfunctioned with age (the joys of reaching 40!). My day in hospital re-plays in my head like a bad movie, rewind and repeat but I desperately want to delete it.

No matter how routine the procedure it was a huge step for me. I gave myself a pat on the back then a massive sigh of relief and a vow to never do it again.

Sarah x