The second day in CNA class was the worst experience. I spent the entire six hours rocking back and forth laying my head down being all but certain I was either going to pass out or throw up. I devised this system in my head to get myself to not focus on the fact that I felt like I was going to fall unconscious because I realized when I thought about it, I felt much worse. So, I sat in the dark as everyone watched videos with my eyes closed, legs bouncing as if they were being electrocuted, and singing song lyrics in my head. When the song was over, I would check in with myself and see if I was still freaking out. Ultimately, I changed it up and sang the ABC's to my self because I could never remember all the song lyrics. I spent the car ride home with my friend hanging my head out the window and letting the cool breeze meet my face. I thought this would help my nausea because it usually helped when I was car sick. Only this time it didn't and by the time I made it home I was feeling utterly miserable. At least until I stepped out of the car on to my driveway and everything I'd been feeling all night went away. I was so confused, up to this point I was sure I had some awful strain of the flu, but that theory wasn't making sense anymore. The following day was the day we were supposed to take an abbreviations quiz, and I finally opted out because all I could do was lay on the couch and battle with myself not to cry tears of utter confusion as I felt just as bad as I had in class. It wasn't until this that I finally told someone how I was feeling. I explained how it felt like all of those times I had panicked about tornadoes only now I couldn't seem to get it to go away. After many tears and trying to accept the fact that something might be mentally wrong a doctors appointment was made. My mom took me to the doctor I had been going to my entire life. On our way to the office, I learned that anxiety is something my family struggles with and that my mom believed I had. Explaining all of this to the nurse practitioner made me feel even more awful than I had. She was looking at me like I was crazy and saying things that were neither sympathetic nor professional. In reality, I felt as if she didn't even want to waste her medical prowess of this insignificant issue. So, she prescribed me Xanax and sent little 15 year old me on my way. Now, it gets interesting... To be Continued...
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Hunter FergusonHolding her Associates of Arts in Political Science, Implementing Beneficial Community Project, and having Led a Student Collaboration team at her college of attendance- Hunter chooses to blog about the world around her as well as her personal experiences in hopes of creating a Powerful group of like-minded people. Archives
July 2019
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