Personal Narrative-Exploratory Surgery And Anxiety

Living with anxiety is a battle everyday. I wake up and I’m not sure if today will be good or bad. It can start out good, but the next thing I know, I’m having a panic attack. The world around me starts to cave in, and the noise I hear becomes static; it’s as if I’m being swallowed whole. Suffering from a panic attack is incredibly embarrassing. Nobody understands what I’m going through, they all think it’s in my head or that I’m being dramatic. What they don’t understand is that, it’s a real problem. Just like any other illness, anxiety is paralyzing; so are panic attacks. There are days I don’t want to get out of bed because I’m afraid that today is the day everything will end, so it’s just safer to stay in bed. My anxiety is unpredictable,

The gel feels like ice on my skin, and leaves a tingling sensation. As the technician situates the machine, I get a chance to pray. My heart is pounding in my chest, but in that trying moment, I find complete peace.

My stomach was growling like crazy because I was not allowed to eat since 12 am that morning. Soon enough, I heard the nurse say “Jenna Ottman,” and my heart felt like it just might pound out of my chest. What if they can’t fix it, what if I wake up during surgery, what if I can’t play sports again? All these questions were rumbling through my mind as I blocked out all the words the doctor was saying to me. The three hour surgery seemed like a breeze to me because I was under sedation the entire time. However, when the anesthetic wore off that night, I was in a world of pain. I had to undergo one full week of bed rest. It consisted of lots of netflix, physical therapy, and visits from friends. I had a long road ahead of me, but every day got me closer to

My heart pounded inside my chest as the doctor analyzed my knee for the first time since the incident. It appeared as though my career playing softball had concluded with one wrong twist of my body. He placed his brisk hands on my lower leg and I braced myself for the pain I assumed would follow. I would have been relieved from the lack of pain as he maneuvered my knee. That is- if I had not been inspecting the doctor’s weathered face, searching for any slight facial movement that would indicate an extensive injury. But with a furrow of his brow and a slight frown in the corner of his mouth, both his and my worst case scenario had been confirmed.

When I saw my aunt and uncle walk into the waiting room, fresh tear stains streaked upon their cheeks, I knew. When my uncle opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out but a child like squeal, my heart was torn in half. When someone finally said the words ‘she’s gone’ to the family members that had just arrived, getting my extremities cut off of my body one by one would have most certainly hurt less. I shut down and sat in that too clean smelling hospital room, little by little people began to say their good-byes to each other and leave, while I just sat. My grandpa walked in and I looked up at the red neon clock on the wall to see that a hour had passed. Without saying a word, he motioned and walked with me out of the room to the end of the hallway where my sister and cousin were sitting. The corner where the four of us sat, you could look out the windows into a sea of city

The nurse gestured for me to come closer. I took a few steps forward and she leaned towards me and whispered, “Try holding her hand. You’ll help her feel more at ease.” I was a little hesitant but I did as I was told and took the patient’s hand. I felt her hand mold into a strong grip around mine without hesitation. While the patient’s grip never lessened on my hand, sometimes it would clench up for a moment before slowly relaxing again. The rest of the staff was busy following the surgeon’s directions, moving quickly around the room. I felt uncomfortable being the only one standing still, doing nothing. So I glanced at the patient. She was breathing hard with her eyes closed, her hand still securely around mine. My hand was starting to hurt, so I tried to ease it out of her grip. But as the patient winced in pain, she grabbed my hand even more strongly.

Davis came in all washed and ready to get started. Because I was going to be awake during the entire procedure, the nurses pinned a sheet up as a shield. Next, my husband was brought in to sit beside my head. I was still nervous, and he could tell. He reached out and grabbed my left hand, and I could instantly feel my nerves begin to subside a bit. The doctor got started, and all I could do was look at the ceiling and squeeze my husband’s hand. I could smell burning flesh, but I tried to think about something else. As Dr. Davis worked, he talked. I guess this was his way of keeping things a little lively, as well as, keeping my mind off of what he was doing. It took about 30 minutes of working to cut me open, and I felt him start to tug and

I have a bit of a situation. I found out at the end of July I need abdominal surgery for an extremely large hernia. unfortunately it has taken my doctor this long to get it approved thru my insurance but they finally have and have scheduled the surgery for 10/10/2016. I just looked at the calendar and that's the week of midterms. Is there any possible way for me to take the midterm early? Here's the thing, if that is going to be an issue at all, I will reschedule because getting my degree is that important to me. Yes I need this surgery, but I didn't think I'd ever get a second chance to finish school when we had to move here. However, I did get another chance to finish my degree and when insurance was fighting to approve this surgery I thought

“We have to get this patient to the E.R. quick!” The doctor’s rolled me in the operating room, concerned about my health and my baby’s as well.

The summer before second grade I hit my head against the padded seat of a bumper car. I started bawling even though I hadn't hit my head that hard. This was the first warning sign.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has been a loving and caring person. But, also for that time, she was constantly in chronic pain. Even when she could barely get out of bed, she would put up her best foot and still care for me and my little sister. But, in the last couple of years, this has lead to surgery after surgery. Usually with little to no results (because she's diabetic, most of the time her body rejects whatever was put in to help her).

At 6:00 am, on April 18th 2016, I skipped into the hospital with my mom and dad not bothered at the fact that I was about to have thirty-two screws and two rods shoved into my back. I sat in the waiting room dressed in my favorite NFL team, the New Orleans Saints, apparel, trying to make my worried parents laugh. When I finally heard my name get called, I followed the nurse into a room where she would prep me for surgery. She put compression tights, socks, and a heated hospital gown on me and got me situated in the bed. Then, the part I dreaded the most, the IV.. I was more worried about getting an IV than the actual surgery! After the anesthesiologist and a few other doctors met with me it was time to go. My preacher, parents, and grandparents gathered around me to say a quick prayer and then I was off. At that time my vision began to get fuzzy like a picture that was not focused. My last memory before the surgery was the nurses rolling my bed into

I walked in to the cold, gray room looking from wall to wall seeing daunting medical instruments waiting to be used, and I glance over to my left hearing a whisper saying that everything is alright. On Monday, February 22, 2011, I entered the hospital as a panicked ten year old girl waiting to have Dr. Geissler remove the tumor out of my upper left arm. My mother and father were waiting in the lounge praying to God that everything will be alright, and that the tumor was benign not malignant. My two older sisters were at school trying to hold back their tears when saying their intention today was to pray that my surgery will run smoothly. I tried not to think about what was approaching rather to remember last night when my family celebrated

The clock sung tick-tock tick-tock echoing in the room. My head was tilted towards the ceiling, as my eyes reflected darkness. Thousands of thoughts filled in my head, the fear of failing, the fear of life, the fear of losing the ones I love, the fear of getting judged. The fear engulfs me like a tide rises and swallows the sand, leaving nothing behind. The clock ticked once again. My fear twisted into a chain, imprisoning me like the coward I am. The chains hooked onto my limbs drowning me further into a bliss, I started to cripple underneath them. They taunt me, as if I was a helpless child shrieking for my parents, but with nowhere to hide.

About two years ago all my uncles, aunts, and cousins from my country came to visit my grandma. I have a pretty big family so when they all get together it’s like a concert, very crowded with a lot of noise but always exciting. My grandma had never been so happy to see all of us together. Although, she did complain a little about a little chest pain she was feeling that evening. We just thought it was a type of pain that goes away in a couple hours or the morning she wakes up. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The next morning it got worse. It started to cause her shortness of breath. The best idea was to take her to her primary care doctor. After her normal checkup, her doctor told my dad she had to be rushed to the emergency room as soon