Last week, I took to social media, feeling overwhelmed by everything Covid-related. I poured my heart out in a post about my struggle with those who dismiss Covid precautions, while many of us—especially the immunocompromised—carry the weight of this pandemic. My heart goes out to healthcare workers who must be traumatized and drained. In that same post, I revealed my battle with PTSD stemming from over fifteen years of medical trauma.
I never intended to disclose my PTSD. For years, I simply referred to it as medical anxiety. I genuinely believed I was only dealing with anxiety—until my therapist helped me see the bigger picture. My “white coat syndrome” turned out to be more significant than I realized. I had researched PTSD and felt that it resonated with my experiences. That realization was liberating; recognizing the problem is often the first step to healing.
If you were to meet me, you might never suspect that I grapple with PTSD. Even if I shared my story, you might just see me as strong and brave. People often commend me for my courage and positivity, and while that’s true, there’s also a darker side. I’m tired. I’m traumatized. I’m haunted.
My Medical Journey
Over fifteen years ago, I found myself in the emergency room, gasping for air and trembling. I had been unwell for a year and a half, seeing multiple doctors. My symptoms included constant hunger and thirst, unexplained weight loss, chronic fatigue, depression, numbness in my limbs, weakness, and blurry vision. One doctor dismissed my struggles, labeling me a hypochondriac. He was gravely mistaken.
In the ER, nurses drew blood and wrapped me in warm blankets. Then, a doctor entered with alarm in his eyes; I was diagnosed as an undiagnosed type 1 diabetic, my body in a toxic state known as diabetic ketoacidosis. I was fortunate to be alive.
You might think one life-changing illness would suffice, but eleven years later, I discovered a lump in my breast. Initial tests appeared normal, but my instincts told me otherwise. After seeking a second opinion, a biopsy confirmed my fears: breast cancer.
The subsequent months were filled with MRIs, genetic testing, and numerous appointments. I opted for a bilateral mastectomy. Fortunately, doctors determined my cancer was caught early, and additional treatment wasn’t necessary. I was relieved to be a survivor, but as appointments dwindled and life returned to normal, PTSD crept in. I became anxious all the time.
Facing New Challenges
I dedicated myself to addressing my medical trauma through therapy, meditation, exercise, and a healthy diet. I reluctantly began taking anti-anxiety medication, but it left me fatigued. Nevertheless, I persevered, journaling, attending therapy, and studying trauma to understand how my experiences had altered my brain and body. I realized I was often in a heightened state of alertness.
This year brought yet another challenge: a second breast cancer diagnosis. I’ve faced three surgeries, twelve chemotherapy sessions, and now, thirty-three rounds of radiation.
The Daily Struggle
Staying present is a constant struggle. I find myself obsessing over medical test results, and my heart races whenever I receive a call from a medical office. I remember every significant date: from my cancer and diabetes diagnoses to surgery anniversaries. It feels like I’m trapped in a cycle of fear.
Living with PTSD is often misunderstood. I can make coffee, drive my kids around, and work, yet the trauma lingers. I battle it daily, often unconsciously. Triggers can arise unexpectedly, from a song to the sterile smell of a medical office. I’ve been triggered by simple dentist visits, where the bright lights and ceiling reminded me of my surgery. When Covid hit, I felt paralyzed at home; seeing people in masks evoked memories of helplessness on the operating table.
I could have chosen to mask my struggles, but that can be exhausting. PTSD doesn’t define me, but it plays a significant role in my life. I’m learning to confront it through methods like EMDR, a specialized therapy for trauma. Taking that step requires bravery—something I possess.
Understanding PTSD
You can’t judge a person’s experiences just by looking at them. PTSD doesn’t always manifest in obvious ways, nor is it exclusive to any specific group, like veterans. It can present differently for everyone. For instance, I don’t experience nightmares. PTSD is complex, and anyone who has encountered trauma should recognize its varying forms. I am grateful that my trauma isn’t insurmountable, and I believe I am on a path toward healing.
For more insights, check out this other blog post on our site. And if you’re looking for authoritative information on insemination, this resource is invaluable.
Summary
This article reflects on the hidden struggles of living with PTSD, particularly stemming from medical trauma. It recounts personal experiences of illness and diagnosis, highlighting the often-unseen challenges faced daily. The narrative emphasizes the importance of acknowledging and confronting trauma while underlining the fact that PTSD can manifest differently in everyone. Healing is possible, and awareness is crucial.