Monday, June 24, 2013


The doctor said I won't live until Friday at the rate I'm going and wrote a prescription for anxiety.  I was trying to keep from having a full-scale panic attack by breathing deeply and slowly.  Then I became concerned about hyperventilating.  This time instead of telling me indignantly that it is his office and his rules, he told me to take the medication...gently and kindly.  I don't think he knew I'd panicked the other time.
He also said that the last time I'd had a chronic infection that did not respond to antibiotics and required three surgical procedures to eliminate was long ago enough that I will be no more prone to it than the general population.  That was helpful but I was already panic-stricken.  My brain tells me it is a minor procedure.  Some other part is still frightened. 

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