Dear Youniverse,
After eating the brownies my father brought home on August 20, 2022, my stomach felt nauseous and my chest felt like I was about to puke up the greatest vomit of my life. It was a tough night for me; I knew I was in for a fight, but I had no idea it would end in my tragedy. By 10:00 pm, my eyes were heavy with drowsiness; I fought off the onset of lethargy but ultimately gave up. That evening, instead of staying up late watching anime, I went to bed early. I had been lying in bed for three hours, yet my eyes were still wide open and attentive. And yet, despite my exhaustion, I was unable to fall asleep. Both my insomnia and my stomach were acting up, but I couldn't tell if the two were related. Since I had already failed at getting to bed at a reasonable hour, I merely kept watching anime till I felt refreshed. That evening, I began to feel nauseous and had the need to throw up, or perhaps I actually did so. Things moved so swiftly and I was caught off guard that I completely forgot. Due to the severe pain in my chest and abdomen, I haven't had a good night's rest one yet. At 10 a.m., I finally let it all out; I threw up everything I'd eaten in the past couple of hours. The components of my stomach turned a sickening shade of yellow, resembled oil, and were thoroughly mixed with the food I'd recently consumed. I felt a knot in my stomach, a collapse in my chest, a loss of reflex in my hands, a trembling all over, and a quaking in my soul from the terror I felt. In that moment, I felt completely helpless. My body hurts so much that I can't bring myself to go to the cemetery to pay my respects to my grandparents and to spend my grandmother's birthday with my relatives. My dad came home from the event with gatorades so I wouldn't become dehydrated. Thirty minutes after our conversation, I went upstairs to rest because I still didn't feel well, my entire body felt weak, and I wasn't able to function properly. He even offered to take me to the hospital to get checked out, but I declined and told him I can still endure it. I attempted to sleep, but my body insisted on throwing up, and the pressure in my chest and stomach felt like someone was trying to strangle me. Due to my sluggish responses, I was startled by the sensation. The difficulty I was experiencing in breathing made me fearful of my chest collapsing. When I started having trouble breathing, I took it as a warning sign that something more serious was going on, so I ran downstairs to tell my father. He took my concerns seriously stating we would go to the nearest clinic or hospital to have me get checked. We tried going to the nearest clinic, but the waiting time in line was too long for me to proceed. We tried visiting several clinics in the area, but they were all closed, so we had to resort going to a private hospital because the waiting time to get into a public hospital was too enormous to risk delaying my treatment any longer.
Since I was having trouble breathing, my father rushed me to the emergency room as soon as we arrived at Mary Johnston Hospital. In order to keep me from being dehydrated and to reduce my level of discomfort, they injected me with suero and various medications. Then they placed a paper bag over my mouth to try and ease my breathing; little did I realize at the time that it wouldn't work, but the painkillers performed their job. I was told to lie in bed and then undergo lab tests so they could determine how my health was doing. My vision blurred when the first injection was inserted into my body, and I immediately felt sick and unable to move. To put it bluntly, I needed to get away. As time went by, I began to question my involvement in hospitals and my fundamental role in the world. It felt like I was drifting. They needed to stop, and I needed to get back home. I think I would have nightmares after just one hour staying in the hospital even though I've been hospitalized years ago due to my insomnia. My back began to suffer due to the poor quality of the bed. There was a scarcity of pillows, there were no pillows at all. The confines of the location made me anxious and skeptical. At the time, all I wanted was to be with my loved ones at home. Reminiscing, I recall my past struggles with Nosocomephobia (a severe aversion to medical facilities). It's a specific kind of anxiety disorder characterized by the onset of physical symptoms and sudden, intense fear. You might not be able to get to the doctor when you need to or see your loved ones when you want to. Phobias about germs, disease, blood, or needles may contribute to nosocomephobia. My only concern was getting back home as soon as possible. After what seemed like a few minutes of sanity, I experienced a brief period of insanity. It was as if my brain had frozen. This caused my vision to get hazy. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as anxiety and panic gripped me. Getting back home to my family became so crucial that I neglected to remember why I had originally gone. When it comes to individual safety, hospitals aren't exactly the best bet. When I went to the hospital, I felt completely and utterly insane. To keep myself from going completely insane while waiting to be released from the hospital after having my tests done and staying there until 6 o'clock that evening, I kept my attention diverted by checking my phone. Although my father had to spend about 7,000 php to cover my medical expenses, I was finally able to get treatment and make some progress toward recovery. Eventually, we returned home. It should never happen to me again. Never again do I wish to be in a hospital. I'd rather not need hospitalization again. I really hope I never have to experience that kind of insanity again. Just as well as I would treat myself at home if I ever became ill or jeopardize again.
Best Regards,
Moonchild.
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