Close your eyes and imagine this: suddenly your heart starts racing, you develop chest pains, and you are struck by a sense of impending doom. Obviously, you’re dying, right? Well, think again, bucko. After an EKG, a CAT scan, and an MRI, you find out that you’re completely fine! And by the way: it’s all your fault!
I can’t believe that this happened again. I thought for sure that it was a heart attack, to the point where I felt insulted when the EMS guy asked me how many cups of coffee I had that day (I still don’t see why my 6 cups of coffee that day are at all relevant to the matter at hand). Talk about medical gaslighting (he had a point, but still).
I’m a calm guy. Even with two jobs, graduate school, and relationship troubles, I manage to keep my cool in even the toughest of situations. I never get anxious, really. Heart attacks run on my dad’s side, so you can’t blame me for jumping to thinking that I was having a heart attack while sprinting to my next work shift and typing out my research paper on my iPad at the same time. I swear to God, that left arm pain was real.
So after eight hours of tests and two IVs, some dumbass doctor—who clearly didn’t pay attention in medical school—told me that I just need to “lower my stress levels”. And one month later, I’m hit with a $10,537 bill. Plus, I need to pick up this stupid anti-anxiety prescription before the pharmacy closes today and that’s another $50 out the window. Honestly, I wish that it was a fatal heart attack so that I would have been dead before the bill came.
Anything anyone can do to help my situation is much appreciated, but if another person suggests “mindfulness”, I will fucking scream.