I used to worry when the kids went on sleepovers—what if they had an asthma attack? I used to be anxious when Sarah crossed the busy road on her way to the convenience store. I used to be afraid when Daniel got rides from older friends. Now, I worry whenever the phone rings and I hear one of the kids' voices sounding distraught—are they hurt? I am anxious that Sarah will run into trouble when she drives up to Canada. I am afraid when Daniel speeds around corners.
But now I suffer from additional fears. I am filled with terror at the threat of another brain injury. Each new symptom terrifies me: when I am incapacitated by an excruciating headache, when I am suddenly struck by crippling fatigue, when I cannot swallow. I become alarmed when the sensation of eating an apple is pure torture, the crunch against my teeth, the harshness of the flesh on my gums, the sound of chewing in my ears—all signs of extreme sensitivity to sensory input. I panic at the thought that I may have suffered a new bleed.
Have I suffered a new bleed?