Hi everyone. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, maybe I'm wanting to connect with others experiencing the same things as me? I don't have anyone in my life who understands what I'm experiencing and it's all building up inside and I need to talk about it. 

My story begins the day after my birthday in 2017 (November), I went to sleep that night ready for college the next day when I was awoken early in the morning with my auntie barging in my house shouting, my boyfriend came running into the bedroom to inform me that my dad was rushed into hospital. My dad is my closest parent and family member to me, I moved country to live with him and we are like friends as well as parent/child so when I heard they weren't sure if he was going to make it I shut down. I had to move quick though and get changed and get up to the hospital. I already suffer from severe social anxiety so getting a taxi to a hospital I'd never been to before on my own had me even more shook up and I was dropped at the wrong building and had to find my way to the right one. There I found my grandad who was alone and was waiting on my nan and auntie, but they were no where to be seen so again I had to push through my anxiety and talk to the nurses to find out where my dad was. When we were finally escorted up two flights to the right place I found my nan and auntie sat waiting. It wasn't long before the countries stomach expert came out and came over to us. He informed us that my dad's aorta was blocked and his stomach and multiple organs were dying. They weren't sure how much of his stomach would need to be removed and it was possible that they would need to remove it all. We asked if you can survive that and when he told us no my heart broke, I broke down and thought this was it, my dad was going to die. And now I had the responsibility of ringing my sister and mum back home and my dad's on/off partner which meant 3 of the same conversations while I was still trying to deal with the news. I spoke to my mum first who began to panic and told me her and my sister would fly out that day which was extremely hard as they both work as managers and getting a last minute flight in itself isn't easy. After all the conversations the doctor came back and told us my dad needed to go into the operation room and we weren't allowed to see him before which killed me. He said it would be hours so my family told me to go home and sort myself out and get ready for my mum and sister flying over, so off I went. I then had to explain to my partner what was going on and we sat and cried for a while and I begged whoever was listening to help my dad. I passed out for a few hours and woke up to my mum and sister on their way. It was roughly 8-10pm by the time they got to mine, picked me up and we went to the hospital. My nan, grandad and auntie were at home, they were too exhausted to come back, so we told them we would find what we could out. When we arrived my dad was out of surgery and in ICU. A lovely doctor bought us in and took us to my dad who I didn't recognise, my mum actually walked past him. He was so bloated, he was hooked up to so many machines I couldn't tell you how many exactly and he looked so weak. I began to cry and so did my sister, who isn't much of a crier. We were took aside to be told what they had to do. The doctor informed us that my dad's stomach was grey and they need to see if it will recover and they wouldn't know yet if it would. I don't remember much but I think that was a big decider on my dad's survival. A week later after visiting him everyday and sitting in ICU with him, he had another surgery. Me and my mum, sister, nan, grandad and two aunties sat in the waiting room waiting for news. We were then taken into a private room where we were told my dad's heart gave out during the operation and they had to resuscitate him. We were then told there was stuff wrong with his bowls and his gold bladder. We were told his rate at survival was 20-70, they were still unsure if he would pull through. I snapped. I've never been so distraught in my life. It was a while before it was obvious my dad's stomach was actually healing. It was a miracle, the doctors were shocked. He was slowly mending and his survival rates started going up. It was 30-70 now, then suddenly it was 60-40. It was coming up to Christmas now and my dad was still unconscious, but the doctors had been trying to wake him but he wasn't ready. It was just before Christmas when his eyes first opened and he moved around but he wasn't fully aware. He kept trying to pull the tube out of his throat which lead the doctors to doing a tracheotomy. He was more comfortable now but kept trying to pull wires out. It wasn't long before he was moved into a transition ward, the ward you go between ICU and a regular ward to see if you're ready. This was the first time I got to speak to my dad in 7 weeks. He tells me now he doesn't remember anything from then but we were talking and hugging and laughing, it was the first time in weeks I was relaxed and happy. A few days later he was moved into a regular ward and this is the point which he begins to remember. My sister and mum flew back over to see him again and he was back to his old self, winding us up and joking. A week later he was finally discharged. It was finally over. Three months (nearly) of being terrified, unsure, tired, it was finally over. 

My life hasn't been the same since this. It made me realise how valuable life is and how easy it is to get sick if you dont look after yourself. My dad's a smoker and overweight which was the cause of the blockage. Even though i knew my dad was okay I began to go downhill. I quit college with just two months left because I couldn't find the energy to go to my work placement or do my coursework, I was having nightmares daily and I just became depressed. I put my weight I had lost the year before back on plus more and I was a mess. A few months later I had a very bad fall down my stairs and thought I broke my ankle, I'd never broke a bone before so I wasn't sure. It was weeks before I could walk on it properly (I stupidly never got it checked). Since then ive slowly developed hypochondria, it started small with my ankle and my calf, thinking I had this or that wrong. That summer, after I had jury duty, I began getting pains in my chest through to along the top of my back. The first while I was convinced it was heart attacks and my mind would play tricks on me, giving me pains and 'numbness' up my left arm. Id then have panic attacks thinking I was about to die. It's lastest until now. But the last two/three months things have gotten worse. If it's not a pain in my chest or shoulder blade its my throat, if it's not them it's my ankles, if it's not that then it's now my head. I've started getting headaches and pressure when I lay on my pillow. It goes for a day then seems to come back at night. I've had to stop smoking weed which I love as it helps my depression as I feel the pains more while high. It's something everyday now and it's driving me mad. My partner makes it worse when he begins to say I need checked cause it could be this this or this (he grew up with a doctor for a father and assumes the worse). I have every symptom of health anxiety though. Now Christmas and new year are over I'm going to see if I can get fully checked out at the doctors and mention hypochondria so I can rule everything out and get help to deal with hypochondria. 

I'm sorry I wrote so much, idk if anyone will actually read this but I needed to get it off my chest. I just pray I can sort myself out because I don't want to spend my life this way. I hate that my dad nearly dying effected me so much like this but I can't deny the truth. 

Wish me luck.