Becoming Ill

In August 2007 I became unwell. At first I thought I had a really bad flu. I had terrible headaches, felt really weak and tired and had constant stomach upsets. I wasn’t one to go and see the doctor often, but this illness persisted long enough that I decided to go. Sinusitis was diagnosed and I was giving antibiotics and told to rest.

Another week passed, and I seemed to be getting worse. Again I went back to the doctor, and was told the same thing. I was given a stronger antibiotic and told to continue resting. Believing the doctors, I went home and took my meds. A day later I had an allergic reaction to the meds. I was unable to breathe properly, had terrible stomach pains and became frightened. What was happening to me?

I was admitted to the hospital for two days for some tests, and they all proved negative apart from indicating that I had some kind of infection. The doctors took me off all my meds and told me to simply rest. However, my condition did not improve and I became more and more anxious.

At the time I had a lot of worries and the year I became ill had been particularly stressful. I was a newlywed, had spent several months abroad looking after a sick relative with cancer, my wife was pregnant and I was starting a new business. I had also lost touch with my brother whom I was previously very close too. I had a lot on my mind, and felt a pressure to get well. I found myself fretting about my symptoms and searching to find out what they could be. This only fuelled my anxiety as I started to believe that the doctors did not know what was wrong with me and that I had some horrible incurable disease.

The more I fretted and worried, the more I stressed myself out and the worse my symtoms became. I went to see a homeopathic doctor and a nutritionist, who put me on a ‘no-everything’ diet. Little did I realize this stressed my body even more. I had become extremely worn out, and had a variety of disturbing symptoms, but yet the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong.

Then one night, I was awoken by the cats scratching on the bedroom door. I darted up and chased them down the stairs and then ran back up again, and went straight to the toilet. That was all I remember until a few moments later. I had collapsed and crashed down onto the glass shower door into the bathtub. I awoke in a panic – my pregnant wife was screaming and on the phone to the emergency services. I was shaking and convinced I was very ill. I was whisked off by ambulance to the hospital again where I began a battery of tests.

At the hospital, I had every test imaginable. They looked for every organic illness you could think of but each test proved fine. I had blood work, x-rays, saw a neurologist, had a cat scan and MRI and each time nothing was found. I was extremely nervous, kept bursting into tears and wouldn’t eat properly. I was very afraid. I had convinced myself that I was very ill. I was only 30 years old, and was previously very fit and healthy, and couldn’t believe how bad I felt.

I was discharged again from the hospital, still feeling awful and told to rest. Still no-one had diagnosed what was wrong with me, and at no time did anyone mention anxiety disorder. However, after this last episode things were even worse. I had now also developed post-traumatic stress from the fall in the bathroom. I became panicky at the thought of going to the restroom, and this made me need to go even more!

That same night, I tried to have a bath. However, immediately after I came out of the bath, I went into what I now know is an anxiety attack. I became extremely hot and sweaty, had chest pains and tightness, couldn’t breathe properly and felt like I was going to die. Again I was rushed to the hospital, and was re-admitted. I had another battery of tests including another chest x-ray, more blood work and an ECG and again nothing was found. I was sent home once again with some heartburn medicine and told to relax.

Things went from bad to worse. I was unable to sleep and had frequent panic attacks at night. My poor pregnant wife was looking after me, and I was totally helpless. She became exhausted and so did I. Stress levels for both of us went up, and as they did my symptoms got worse. I started to become agoraphobic and had difficulty going out in crowded places and supermarkets. I felt exhaustion like I have never felt, and just wanted to die. It was truly awful.

I went to see another doctor – an endocrinologist, who hypothesized that I was insulin resistant and suffering from reactive hypoglycemia. She did a glucose tolerance test, and the results were positive. I was put on some medicine to help regulate my blood sugar, and told to eat a high protein, low GI diet. This gave me some hope – finally a diagnosis and some medicine!

However once again I was allergic to the meds, and suffered extreme stomach cramps and was unable to eat. This made things worse, and I continued to have panic attacks and suffer horrendous symptoms. I was so stressed out, and things were about to get even worse.

My wife and I were due to go on a short weekend trip to a friend’s wedding. We had planned it for a while and it was likely to be the last trip we could take for a while as we were having a baby. My wife was totally exhausted and given that I hadn’t actually been diagnosed with anything serious, thought that the trip would do us both good.

I was terrified, and totally unable to see her perspective. I did not want to go anywhere, let alone be in a plane and we ended up having a huge fight.

For various reasons I won’t go into, my wife and I ended up apart – she went to stay with her parents and I ended up with mine. This was a situation that would continue right up until after my son’s birth some six months later.