Gemotions

The world seemed to shrink around her. Dr. Chen’s voice, explaining the error in her file, became a muffled drone. Her palms grew damp. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. The room felt suddenly too bright, the fluorescent lights glaring down on her.

Her diagnosis of a serious heart condition felt like it had pierced her with a sharp pain. The doctor’s words of reassurance – a swift apology and an acknowledgement that the data was wrong – were like meaningless echoes in a cavern. The imagined weight of the condition on her shoulders—on the body of another person—was almost unbearable. The thought of all the appointments and tests she'd have to undergo, the unnecessary anxieties, made her feel faint.

She excused herself and fled to the bathroom, desperate for air. She leaned against the cold tile wall, trying to breathe, trying to regain control.