Caitriona McMahon recounts a recent visit to hospital, where medical staff failed to acknowledge her anxiety as part of her presentation.
Content warning: this article contains detailed descriptions of panic attacks.
Those of you that have read some of my previous articles will know I have been diagnosed with acute anxiety and depression for some time now. I fear many things, including large buildings and hospitals.
Over the past few years I’ve used every scrap of strength and knowledge I had to challenge many of the negative anxious thoughts that try so desperately to dictate my life on a daily basis. Sometimes I successfully overcame the thoughts and other times I failed only to return and try again another day.
Up until this experience I had never been brave enough to tackle my enormous fear of hospitals. I had made some small attempts including ordering a coffee inside the main door and leaving as a way of testing the waters but I won’t lie beyond that terrified me.
Mostly I tried to avoid having to visit anyone sick but on the occasion that I had to I would have to bring a trusted friend or as I call them a “safe person” with me to escort me out should a panic attack arise. Each time on leaving I left exhausted, legs shaking, with pains in my chest and I prayed I would never become sick enough that I would be forced to attend the hospital because I knew I wouldn’t be able.
To my dismay a couple of weeks ago my biggest fear became an unimaginable reality after I was referred to A&E following a visit to an out of hour’s doctor service. It was without a doubt the worst 24 hours of my life for many reasons but the main reason I’ve put pen to paper on this is the staff’s failure to recognise my anxiety as a serious medical condition, a condition that due to its severity was stopping me staying for medical treatment regardless of how severe the risks of leaving were. It has taken several attempts to write this as each time replaying the events re-traumastised me. Finally I am ready to share my experience…
I had been feeling unwell for some weeks but suddenly things got rapidly worse. Something I’d never experienced before started happening causing me to become disorientated, confused, my spoken words began to get jumbled up, and the most concerning aspect of all for me was my sudden memory loss. I made the decision to visit a doctor as I knew something was seriously wrong.
I thought he would say maybe it was a virus and treat me with some medication to help over the coming weeks. What I didn’t expect was the dreaded words “I need you to go to A&E straight away for further tests, this isn’t normal at your age”.
I will never forget the walk from that doctor’s surgery to the nearby car where a friend awaited. My anxiety about what lay ahead was so severe I considered ignoring what the doctor said and leaving but at the same time I knew something serious or life threatening could be wrong. As I sat into the car and the reality left my lips I could feel sweat pump from my body, I became nauseated and started to panic. After a few minutes and constant reassurance from my friend that I would probably be in and out in no time I agreed to go and try.
Visiting A&E isn’t a pleasant experience for anyone, between long waits and overcrowding, but for someone like me it felt like I was entering a minefield, and at any moment something could blow and I would have to bolt. After checking in, I met several doctors and numerous nurses all of various ranking. Each and every doctor I met I immediately stated before they sat on their chair that “I suffer with extremely bad anxiety and I am petrified of hospitals, I may need something to help me through this to calm me down”. I said this hoping someone would see how much I was panicking. That was my first mistake.
I had assumed that all trained medical professionals would understand the extent of anxiety and the effects it has on not only the mind but the body hence my high heart rate. Not one staff member noticed as I paced to nearby exits slapping into doors as I went from dizziness, my survival anxiety backpack on my back. Other patients watched suspiciously wondering what I was doing but not one staff member noticed or tried to reassure me.
The first couple of staff I met ignored the mention of anxiety as if I never mentioned it. The next medical staff I met replied with “sure don’t we all hate hospitals “, the next: “sure I wouldn’t be here myself only I’m working.”
I knew after years of personal therapy and education around the topic that the increased level of anxiety I was experiencing was just as serious as the physical symptoms I reported yet they still made me feel insignificant or like I was complaining about nothing. I felt as though they thought anxiety was some big joke or something not worth taking into account.
Just as the urge to escape and run was becoming uncontrollable it was explained I needed to stay overnight to meet a medical team first thing in the morning. As my stomach dropped I pleaded with the doctor to help me. I explained I couldn’t stay as I wasn’t able due to panic and I will always remember the look on my friends face as the medical staff dismissed me one more time. Why did they not listen? How could they not see my distress? What does it take for someone to listen?
Within minutes I was shipped off to a ward which, to be honest, shocked me in itself with the current trolley crisis. I thought – this is just my luck – no one else would get a bed, but here I am getting one within a few hours! As staff wheeled me through corridors they commented on how lucky I am to be getting a bed whilst I wiped tears from my face questioning how I would cope in this living hell. Again no one noticed my distress.
After being placed inside a ward door on a trolley completely unaware of the nearest external door or where I was, I had at this stage used every coping mechanism and strategy I was ever thought. So when the night nurse mentioned more tests that may be needed the following day I could hardly breathe. Once again I begged for something to help me relax. Yet again I was ignored as they pulled the curtains and once again walked away.
That night my friend remained by my side never left and stayed on the couch next to me afraid to sleep in case something would happen me yet steps away staff ignored what I was going through.
Now I’m going to pause here for a moment. When a person any person and especially someone diagnosed with acute anxiety is admitted to hospital the first thing they should be met with is compassion. Their anxiety should be noted and treated as any other symptom or diagnoses would be. They should be told why tests are scheduled and when they are likely to take place to help put the person at ease.
Continuing on….
By this time I had bloods, urine, and a chest x ray done but I was waiting on results of a cat scan which as I was told will come when they come they can’t make things go any faster. I started to break down on hearing there were talks of a lumbar puncture in the coming days. It was the final straw.
I knew leaving was wrong and dangerous but I felt I had no other choice because if I stayed I was going to die (or so my anxiety was telling me). It wasn’t the procedure that was the problem but the length of time I would have to stay in distress unable to leave. The lack of compassion and understanding I was met with over the previous hours had driven me to the point of discharging myself and trying to access help through outpatient clinics.
I knew this was a dangerous decision and one I did not take likely but as I explained to the staff I have no other option I could not stay I had to go and they didn’t as much as acknowledge or question why this might be the case.
As I prepared myself to leave a staff member entered and they made it very clear they thought I was stupid for wanting to discharge myself. I stated once again I had no choice. All of a sudden the curtains opened and in came a senior member of staff.
They brought with them a calmness and immediately asked with concern what was going on for me. One last time and at my wits end I explained why I could not stay. I explained it wasn’t that I wanted to be putting my life in danger but I physically and mentally could not cope with being there in such distress.
I went on to say I would be willing to come in and out 50 times a day for whatever other tests were needed. At that moment as they placed their hand on my shoulder they turned to their team and said she cannot stay that is ok , I understand we can figure something out.
This was a turning point for me. Someone finally heard me and most importantly met me where I was at. They asked if they could arrange a lumbar puncture within an hour would I stay on based on the promise I would be discharged that evening. I agreed.
Later that evening I was discharged 100% traumatised from the experience. What broke my heart completely was as I lay in bed after the lumbar puncture I could hear another patient explaining they had to leave too they could not stay.
The difference was I heard what wasn’t spoken. I could hear the fear in their voice and their anxiety but they too were met with the same lack of understanding I had been met with for the majority of my stay. I swore in that bed I had to speak up if not for myself then for the person a few beds up that couldn’t verbalise the real reason they could not stay.
How in this day and age is this standard of care acceptable? I am not saying all health care professionals are the same but what I am saying is that having to meet over a dozen professionals before one finally understood me is unacceptable and dangerous. We may have come a long way in relation to mental health awareness in recent years but from my experience we still have a very long way to go.
To the current Irish health system I quote the words of Charles M.Blow
“One doesn’t have to operate with great malice to do great harm. The absence of empathy and understanding are sufficient “
*A note to the reader*
Thankfully most major tests have been done and ruled out anything serious and I am working with my GP to remedy the symptoms. Thank you for taking the time to read this piece.
Help information
If you need help please talk to friends, family, a GP, therapist or one of the free confidential helpline services. For a full list of national mental health services see yourmentalhealth.ie.
- Samaritans on their free confidential 24/7 helpline on 116-123, by emailing jo@samaritans.ie
- Pieta House National Suicide Helpline 1800 247 247 or email mary@pieta.ie – (suicide prevention, self-harm, bereavement) or text HELP to 51444 (standard message rates apply)
- Aware 1800 80 48 48 (depression, anxiety)
If living in Ireland you can find accredited therapists in your area here:
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