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.