I drink because I'm unhappy and I'm unhappy because I drink: Anxiety at its finest-Part 1
MY FIRST PANIC ATTACK
It all started with a pain in my chest, my heart beating fast, a tingling sensation moving from my toes all the way to my ears and a constant struggle trying to catch my breath.
I had just gotten back to Myrtle Beach, SC from a trip back home to Virginia. I was in my bed about to go to sleep just like any other night. I went through my regular bedtime routine: I smoked a bowl, poured myself a glass of water, brushed my teeth, washed my face, stripped down to my underwear and laid down in my bed. That's when the effects took over. My first thought was that I was having a heart attack. So, like any other hypochondriac would do, I immediately log on to my computer to get on the ever-so-handy WebMD.
Yep. I'm definitely having a heart attack.
My roommate is out. I am in the condo alone. I was going to die at the young age of 20 by my damn self.
I got up and drove myself to the hospital. By this time, I was starting to feel normal again, well, normal for me anyway (tired, craving some candy, wanting a drink or two). Freaked out and super sleepy, I finally get to the hospital and go to the front to check in. The ladies checking me in were looking at me like I was an insane druggie who either a) wanted another fix or b) was totally tripping and didn't know where else to go. Little did they know, I was just a 20 something college girl needing some help with her problem of having a minor heart attack. I was irritated at the fact that they were judging me but to back them up, I was living in Myrtle Beach as a 20 something college girl, so it kind of made sense that they would judge. I explain to them my symptoms, while trying to hold back the many tears I still had left from my car ride over, and they tried to tell me that there is no way I am suffering from a heart attack.
I don't buy it.
Ten minutes later, I find myself laying in a hospital bed, getting poked several times with the same needle because the lady trying to put my IV in doesn't know what a vein looks like. At this point, I'd say there's at least 5 doctors and nurses in my "room". They have to watch out for drug fiends like me. Then the questions start coming.
"Have you had any alcohol this evening?"
"Have you taken any other substance?"
"What did you eat today?"
"Did you take a shit?"
That last one is just me being a dick. Had to.
So I answer all of the questions very honestly.
"No. I had a lot to drink this past weekend though."
"I smoke marijuana on a daily basis, so yes, I smoked."
"I ate a lot. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Totally took a shit today... maybe two."
Had to do it again. Don't pretend like you're not laughing.
After I answered all of their questions, they look around at each other and then look at me and said, "We are going to have you go to the bathroom so we can get a pee sample from you."
Awesome. They don't believe me. I'm totally on meth.
As I get up to go to the bathroom, I start to feel lightheaded and then proceed to faint. I'm lethargic. I'm hungry. I'm having a heart attack. I've never had an IV before. So, yeah, I passed out. This situation clearly helped my argument of not being on drugs.
Way to go, Shannon.
I was then forced to go back in the bed being told that if I wasn't able to get myself to the bathroom and pee then they would have to get the sample another way. That other way was them telling me they are going to stick a needle in my pee hole. A needle... IN MY FUCKING PEE HOLE.
I refused.
When I checked in, I signed a bunch of papers that I didn't really read because, I mean, who is really going to read all that bullshit when you think you're having a heart attack. So, what I am guessing, is that by them having my signature on all those dead trees, they have the right to stick foreign objects in my pee hole.
I was held down by about 3 nurses while another nurse or doctor (have no clue which is which at that point) sticks a needle... IN MY PEE HOLE.
It brought me back to a memory I have of being at the doctors with my dad when I was little. The nurse was trying to shove medicine down my throat because I didn't want to take it. Long story short, I kicked her in the face. I didn't take the medicine. I got a sticker and my dad took me to Toys R Us afterwards.
Unfortunately, this experience wasn't going to turn out that way. No stickers or toys were going to be involved after I left this awful place.
Several tears later, they find out there was nothing else in my system but that good ole THC I had already told them was in my bod. They made me stay there a little while so I could get some rest before I drove back home. I didn't sleep a wink. They then explained to me that what happened to me earlier was a panic attack.
"A lot of the symptoms of a panic attack are very similar to those of someone having a heart attack."
Huh. Who would have thought?
They told me to make an appointment with my regular doctor to come up with "treatments" for my panic attacks (this was my first one).
All in all, my first panic attack experience was, obviously, pretty memorable. I didn't want anyone touching me for weeks after that, not even my boyfriend at the time. That pee shit really fucked with my brain. I made a doctor's appointment the next day.
To be continued.
It all started with a pain in my chest, my heart beating fast, a tingling sensation moving from my toes all the way to my ears and a constant struggle trying to catch my breath.
I had just gotten back to Myrtle Beach, SC from a trip back home to Virginia. I was in my bed about to go to sleep just like any other night. I went through my regular bedtime routine: I smoked a bowl, poured myself a glass of water, brushed my teeth, washed my face, stripped down to my underwear and laid down in my bed. That's when the effects took over. My first thought was that I was having a heart attack. So, like any other hypochondriac would do, I immediately log on to my computer to get on the ever-so-handy WebMD.
Yep. I'm definitely having a heart attack.
My roommate is out. I am in the condo alone. I was going to die at the young age of 20 by my damn self.
I got up and drove myself to the hospital. By this time, I was starting to feel normal again, well, normal for me anyway (tired, craving some candy, wanting a drink or two). Freaked out and super sleepy, I finally get to the hospital and go to the front to check in. The ladies checking me in were looking at me like I was an insane druggie who either a) wanted another fix or b) was totally tripping and didn't know where else to go. Little did they know, I was just a 20 something college girl needing some help with her problem of having a minor heart attack. I was irritated at the fact that they were judging me but to back them up, I was living in Myrtle Beach as a 20 something college girl, so it kind of made sense that they would judge. I explain to them my symptoms, while trying to hold back the many tears I still had left from my car ride over, and they tried to tell me that there is no way I am suffering from a heart attack.
I don't buy it.
Ten minutes later, I find myself laying in a hospital bed, getting poked several times with the same needle because the lady trying to put my IV in doesn't know what a vein looks like. At this point, I'd say there's at least 5 doctors and nurses in my "room". They have to watch out for drug fiends like me. Then the questions start coming.
"Have you had any alcohol this evening?"
"Have you taken any other substance?"
"What did you eat today?"
"Did you take a shit?"
That last one is just me being a dick. Had to.
So I answer all of the questions very honestly.
"No. I had a lot to drink this past weekend though."
"I smoke marijuana on a daily basis, so yes, I smoked."
"I ate a lot. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Totally took a shit today... maybe two."
Had to do it again. Don't pretend like you're not laughing.
After I answered all of their questions, they look around at each other and then look at me and said, "We are going to have you go to the bathroom so we can get a pee sample from you."
Awesome. They don't believe me. I'm totally on meth.
As I get up to go to the bathroom, I start to feel lightheaded and then proceed to faint. I'm lethargic. I'm hungry. I'm having a heart attack. I've never had an IV before. So, yeah, I passed out. This situation clearly helped my argument of not being on drugs.
Way to go, Shannon.
I was then forced to go back in the bed being told that if I wasn't able to get myself to the bathroom and pee then they would have to get the sample another way. That other way was them telling me they are going to stick a needle in my pee hole. A needle... IN MY FUCKING PEE HOLE.
I refused.
When I checked in, I signed a bunch of papers that I didn't really read because, I mean, who is really going to read all that bullshit when you think you're having a heart attack. So, what I am guessing, is that by them having my signature on all those dead trees, they have the right to stick foreign objects in my pee hole.
I was held down by about 3 nurses while another nurse or doctor (have no clue which is which at that point) sticks a needle... IN MY PEE HOLE.
It brought me back to a memory I have of being at the doctors with my dad when I was little. The nurse was trying to shove medicine down my throat because I didn't want to take it. Long story short, I kicked her in the face. I didn't take the medicine. I got a sticker and my dad took me to Toys R Us afterwards.
Unfortunately, this experience wasn't going to turn out that way. No stickers or toys were going to be involved after I left this awful place.
Several tears later, they find out there was nothing else in my system but that good ole THC I had already told them was in my bod. They made me stay there a little while so I could get some rest before I drove back home. I didn't sleep a wink. They then explained to me that what happened to me earlier was a panic attack.
"A lot of the symptoms of a panic attack are very similar to those of someone having a heart attack."
Huh. Who would have thought?
They told me to make an appointment with my regular doctor to come up with "treatments" for my panic attacks (this was my first one).
All in all, my first panic attack experience was, obviously, pretty memorable. I didn't want anyone touching me for weeks after that, not even my boyfriend at the time. That pee shit really fucked with my brain. I made a doctor's appointment the next day.
To be continued.
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