My plan was not to get asked to find a new doctor, and I succeeded in that. But I was already a nervous wreck when I got there due to all these crises my family is going through. Manic as hell, too, with my heart thumping out of my chest.

I didn't lose it until the doctor came in, showed me my EKG, asked me what I thought it meant, which ... confused the hell out of me. Before he came in, however, I was shy to the point of absolute mortification with my nurse. Luckily my sister had gone with me as my advocate. In my panicked, inner delusions I was convinced that some kind of trick was being played. I thought she was laughing at me. I was shaking. High blood pressure and well over a hundred pulse. The doctor then arrives, and when I'm non-plussed by this question I'm meant to understand, he tells me, "Just spit it out. Tell me your story. From the horse's mouth. Or whatever part of the horse." I got incredibly paranoid. Not of being in danger, but of being in absolutely the wrong place. There was laughing in the hallway, mainly from my nurse, as well as the firm but low phone voice one uses on the other side of the door to talk to security. Which, I'm trying to tell my doctor and sister all that, and they're assuring me it isn't happening. The doc asks if I want to leave. I tell him I can't. That would be giving up, and that's suicide. I won't commit suicide. So he grills me over various events that I can't remember -- the seven times I was given sedatives in the ER, or in the cardiac ward, to the point of blacking out. The three times it's already happened here in another state!!! I told him, "No one in my family knows what happened all those times. Only the nurses and doctors." It was as if he were trying to see if I were a hypochondriac or narcissist or just plain nut, which I wasn't. Just horribly overwhelmed always, forever. He talked me through this stuff, though, and we worked it out. I'm still shaky as fuck, though. And seriously, it is item number 346 on the agenda this week or month.