It was the beginning of the pandemic when my body started to unravel.
At first, it was subtle but unsettling, sharp pains shooting through my legs, waking in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep. Then the world shut down, and emotionally, everything felt heavier. Shortly after, I learned my mother had stage three ovarian cancer. My nervous system was in a constant state of shock and fear.
My symptoms multiplied quickly.
Constant nausea and heartburn.
Heart palpitations.
Stiffness, anxiety, deep exhaustion.
Then came the terrifying moments, pain shooting from the palms of my hands up into my shoulders. I was convinced I was having heart attacks. Over the next two years, I ran to the ER more than six times.
Each time, I was told the same thing. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
My family doctor listened to me with humor, not concern. He told me
