Health Anxiety, White Coat Hypertension and Hospitals, Oh My.

In my last post I wrote about why I had surgery and the impact it will have. What I didn’t mention was my anxiety. Ironic considering this blog is about anxiety.

It would be “normal” to be anxious about any procedure in which one is put under general anaesthetic. Interestingly, the anxiety I had about the operation itself I would classify as normal.

One of my areas of intense anxiety is health. I’m a germaphobe and, thus, a chronic hand washer. If I’m near someone who is sick I become anxious that I’ll catch it. I’m particularly frightened of stomach bugs. My fears in this area are not “normal”. That being the case, I was very anxious prior to surgery that any number of the drugs used could make me feel or be sick. I was mildly anxious about waking up on the table or never waking up but far more scared of becoming nauseated from morphine. I was also worried about the post-operative pain I knew I would have from the carbon dioxide pumped into my body during surgery, not to mention the pain from the actual surgery.

Being hungry and/or thirsty makes me feel weak, which makes me more vulnerable to anxiety, which intensifies the physical symptoms of the hunger/thirst, and so the cycle goes on. Before my procedure, I had to stop eating at midnight the night before, stop drinking at 6am and be at the hospital by 7am. My surgery wasn’t scheduled until late morning so I was also anxious that I’d faint during those hours between my arrival and my surgery.

Having had two day surgeries in the past nine years at the same hospital, I expected, after admission, to be put in a bed in a waiting area. My plan, once I got there, was to sleep. Admission took quite some time and, when I finally made it to the surgery waiting area, there was very little space. Consequently, I was put in a small room that had a sofa and two armchairs instead of a bed. There were three other women there, too. I was barely there when I had to leave to meet with my anaesthetist. Following that, I had to give blood. When I got back to the small room, one woman was leaving for surgery and the other two and I began to chat. Something went wrong with my blood so I was called to give another vial. I then went back to the room and we continued chatting. The next woman was called and we were down to two. Eventually, I was also called. The time had flown by and I’d barely realised I was hungry and thirsty. There was no weakness or faintness. Distraction is a wonderful thing.

Having health anxiety causes one to do body scans. That’s when one mentally scans one’s body – usually without even realising – for pain, discomfort, illness, anything out of the ordinary. I don’t set out to do them but I’m aware when I do. That was the first thing I did when I woke up in recovery. Body scan. No nausea, a little pain. Good outcome.

The power of suggestion is a curse for those of us with anxiety. As I was wheeled to the ward, I remembered a friend of mine saying she felt sick after her trip to the ward. I madly body scanned all the way to the ward and as the bed came to a halt. I was relieved that I felt fine.

I spent three nights in the hospital and never felt sick. The pain was there but it was managed by regular doses of paracetamol. Sleeping was uncomfortable due to both internal pain and pain from my “stab wounds” (from laparoscopic surgery) The first night I had sharp upper stomach and neck pain from the carbon dioxide and an extremely sore throat from the tube.

It will take several weeks before I can conclusively say that I’m glad I had the procedure done. What I can say now is that I have spent all of my adult life suffering from anxiety – some times worse than others – and I’m happy to be at a point where I can manage it to the extent that I can go in and have surgery without suffering too badly from my irrational fears.