I am convinced everytime I come to the doctors office that I am going to have my feet cut off, and then I’m going to go blind before exit.#thejoyofirrationalfears
And others responded, glad that they had no such fear. One thought to offer a trigger event about this fear. Nice though the thought was, I remember when I gained my fear of hospitals and doctors. I was twelve.
My aunt (gone many years now) was an enormous woman. Tall, wide, majestic like a mountain… literally. She had been hospitalized with unknown unexplained ailments that still left her talking and breathing, and she was kind and she was nice, and so I was eager to visit her in the hospital with my mother. It turns out my Aunt had advanced diabetes and had not dieted, exercised, or taken insulin.
I remember very clearly the pattern of gore all around the bed, lavatory chair, and staining the sheets. I started to breathe fast, and that was a further mistake. It stunk and nearly made my eyes water. Well it was at that moment my Aunt came out of the bathroom (the chair was too uncomfortable for a woman of her girth to use regularly) and hobbled into bed. The smell that was simply a hint underneath the antiseptic hospital fog and full time venting of the room detonated like a dead dog left in the sun for a few weeks.
Yes, I kissed and hugged my aunt, and said all the things visitors say to people who are guests at the hospital. But after, I spent most of my time wandering the halls, away from the smell, not understanding the injuries I had seen, nor that the reason for them was a genetic hiccup that ran in the family.
I didn’t understand much, but I understood the smell. I understood the button.
Every doc who has seen me since I was 15 thinks I have high blood pressure.
Wonder why? 😉