I took myself to bed to nurse the headache; my new companion who had arrived to stay. Overwhelming tiredness led me to spend more time in bed in a few days than I had in the previous few life-filled months.
I kept going over what had happened. Had I really created these symptoms through anxiety? My sensible, logical brain told me that I hadn’t, that I needed help and fast. My tired, damaged brain lost confidence, picked up on the judgment passed on me, didn’t know what to do and didn’t have the strength to do anything.
I have – correction, had – the greatest of respect for my GP whom I have known for a long time and was wonderful during my mother’s decline with dementia. I explained the symptoms, what the paramedics had said about me causing the symptoms by worrying. I’m not a worrier. I take life with quite a steady keel and I thought my GP knew this, so I wasn’t expecting what she said next.
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