It was at the end of 2021 that my brother died of a heart attack. He was quite young — in his 40s — and his death reshaped my world in ways I could never have imagined. In the days following his death, I was in a state of shock, which I suppose is normal in such circumstances. His death at such a young age from something like that made me think about many things, particularly the possibility of it happening to me: What if that happens to me too? What if I'm next? After all, we are family, so it could be genetic.

These thoughts turned into worries, ultimately resulting in a trip to the ER.

A few days after he passed away, I went out for dinner with my family. I still remember how I felt when I went to bed that night. I could feel some kind of pressure in my solar plexus, which spread up to my chest. I thought I had felt it before, probably because of something I had eaten, so I decided to ignore it.

A couple of days passed and the feeling was still there, so I decided to Google my symptoms, which actually matched those of a heart attack. With my brother's death still fresh in my mind, my brain somehow made the connection between this sensation and a heart attack, and I ended up rushing to the ER.

At the ER, the first thing they did was check my heart rate using an ECG. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was lying on a bed with a heart rate of 120 bpm while doctors and nurses ran around, saying little, which was really scary. When I told the doctor that my brother had died of a heart attack a few days earlier, he became concerned. For context, I am — and was at the time — in my 30s. I'm quite fit; I work out regularly, eat healthily, and have never smoked, so an abnormal heart rate like that was rather worrying. Next up: X-rays and blood tests. However, they couldn't find anything wrong, so I was sent home for the first time.

However, the feeling didn't go away that night and, feeling scared, I decided to go back to the ER for another check-up. I had another round of blood tests, but again, nothing abnormal was found.

In total, I had two tests that night, and my results were good. I remember the doctor actually telling me, "Your blood results are better than mine!" I think she was trying to calm me down.

The important thing is that, at some point during my stay, one of the paramedics asked me if I had reflux. I found out a few days later that I did, but at the time I was too overwhelmed by my own worries to answer the question properly, so I just said 'no'. I wonder if I would have spared that much worry

Given that my blood test results were twice the normal level, I was sent home, but asked to call back in the morning and ask for the cardiologist, which I did.

I went back for a third time that morning when they took the third and final blood sample. Again, nothing showed up. At this point, they probably realised that I was having a panic attack, so they sent a psychiatrist to talk to me. After a brief and seemingly unempathic conversation — or at least it felt that way to me — he diagnosed me with generalised anxiety disorder, and I was soon sent home with a prescription.

Although I was relieved that it was 'only' anxiety and not heart-related, I did not realise that the first panic attack I had experienced there would become the new norm for me, disrupting every aspect of my life.

This has been the hardest and most challenging period of my life, but it has also brought some of life's most beautiful and unexpected gifts and today, I would like to share them with you.