Continuation of the The Difference of Awareness.
My dad went out to go to work, I stayed in bed with my mom. Soon my mom would have to get ready for work, too, but my symptoms were worsening. I started feeling pins and needles in both my arms and my legs, the nausea was stronger, the weight on my chest heavier. I was getting a headache. All my body was sending me warning signals. I called the guy I was dating at the time and asked him to come to my house and spend the day with me, I needed someone to stay with me and take me to the E.R. in case of necessity.
About half an hour later my dad came back, saying he was too worried to go to work and he preferred to take me to the emergency to make sure I was fine. My mom agreed and got ready for work, I called my boyfriend to tell him not to come anymore, and my dad drove to the E.R. It was 8am and I couldn’t believe I had been in that state for so long.
We got to the E.R. and the receptionist asked me why I was there. I described my symptoms – actually I think my father did, while I was too upset to talk – and they gave me a paper of admission with a green-ball sticker. Green means it’s not urgent. “Fine, I thought, I would prefer that they would catch the heart attack in advance, but at least if something happens I’m already here, one door away from doctors”.
From here on, my memories are very blurred, except for a couple of moments. I don’t know how long I waited there, for sure more than one hour, maybe two. I know that at some point they let me in the next waiting room, closer to the doctors – my turn was getting closer. Finally I was welcomed in a room by doctors and nurses.
They were nice to me, but when I told them what I thought was going on, they seemed kind of amused. Not totally surprised, though. They assured me that a healthy 20-year-old girl could not have a heart attack out of the blue, just like that. I felt so ridiculous. They thought I was imagining everything, they thought I was crazy. I saw it in their tired eyes and polite smiles. I got scared: I was dying and nobody believed me. If they didn’t take care of me at the hospital, what was I going to do?
They ran all the tests of the case anyway. They checked my blood pressure, my heartbeat, they put a needle in the artery in my wrist (painful), and everything seemed fine. The doctor smiled at me and handled me a little glass of a transparent liquid. Or wasn’t it transparent? I remember the size of the glass, but not the color. She told me I was just a little stressed out, and that the thing in the glass would make me feel better. Nothing was wrong with me, it was just a little stress.
I drank it, went home, and the day passed as normal, but I was on the guard, all the time. I knew I was not fine. I knew something was wrong. I felt it. Something was haunting me and I couldn’t escape death for so much longer. The tranquilizers that they gave me at the E.R. calmed me down, but somehow I knew it wasn’t over.
And it really wasn’t.