The Breaking Point

If you’ve been reading on from the previous post, you must be wondering (or not), what drove me to the doctors? 

It all started back in December 2016. I was sending my parents to the airport for their vacation. I wasn’t feeling all right to begin with, but I braced myself and just drove anyway (bad idea). About halfway into the journey, I started trembling pretty significantly. Then, the palpitations began and finally, at the rest stop near the highway (freeway), I succumbed to the anxiety attack. I parked my car, and ran to the closest toilet. 

I was starting to get severely lightheaded, and weak. The palpitations wasn’t helping, so was the impending sense of doom. To make matters worse, my bowels then started to cramp up and I still haven’t relieved myself. I then made my way back into the car, grabbed a bottle of water and started chugging. I felt weak, and defeated.

As soon as I remotely felt better, I just accelerated as quickly as I could to the airport, and dropped off my parents, and off I went. Not only I didn’t wish them a proper goodbye for the trip, I even made them worry for seeming like I was dying mid-drive. I rushed to the nearest mosque to seek refuge as the mosque nearby has a clean toilet and a water cooler. How convenient! 

There, I had a massive bowel movement, diarrhea of course, took a few more drinks and sat down in the prayer hall, waiting for the next wave to hit me. Thankfully, there wasn’t one, and I started regaining my composure. I called my parents to tell them I was alright, and I continued my drive in the light drizzle to my place back in Malacca.

That was my breaking point. I was now being selfish by not going to a hospital sooner. I – almost – endangered the life of me and my parents by speeding to the closest rest stop.

More to come – next part will about the diagnosis;

Thanks for reading!

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