So, as some of you may know, yesterday I was suffering chest pain and stressed out enough about it to abort going to game and make Briggs take me to the hospital, even though we have no money or insurance. I was convinced I was dying.
As the title of this blog would suggest, I am NOT. (Nor am i having an alien baby.)
We were there for about 3 hours. The doctor listened to my chest. I got electrodes and a monitor. I got wheeled down to get x-rays. They found nothing.
They discharged me, and shortly thereafter, I started feeling way worse again, freaking out, CRYING (I seriously hardly ever cry, and I was bawling like, 5 times yesterday) and both sides of my chest were hurting, and it was hard to breathe.
Guess what’s making my chest hurt.
Anxiety attacks. Every time I got more upset and started panicing, I’d start hurting more, and start panicing more. When I got calmer, the pain would dissapate. We got home, I called my mom (when I’m sick I want my mommy. So sue me.) and chilled out a little…had some toast to counter the large amounts of caffeine and excedrin in my system, and the few times I got myself totally calm, the pain would go away about completely.
Today has been a lot better. I didn’t hurt when I woke up…I do a bit now, ’cause I’m just going through a stressful phase (chemically I’m pretty sure) and it’s hard to keep the crazy under wraps. But the real, physical pain seems to be triggered entirely by my emotional status.
So, not dying…just nerurotic. You could have guessed that.
I have a nifty hospital bracelet now, though. 
