The Day I Finally Chose Myself
The fluorescent lights above me flickered as my vision blurred. My hands gripped the podium tighter, desperate to steady myself while forty pairs of eyes stared back at me. Something was terribly wrong.
“And as you can see from the Q3 projections—” My voice cracked. The words on the screen swam together, a dizzying swirl of color and shapes. My chest tightened. My heart wasn’t just racing—it felt like it was trying to break free.
My name is Sophia, and in the middle of the most important presentation of my career, my body was shutting down.
“Ms. Wells, are you all right?” someone called from the back of the room.
I tried to respond, but no sound came out. The world tilted. The ceiling spun. Then, nothing.
A Frantic Rush to the Hospital
When I opened my eyes, chaos surrounded me. Voices shouted. Someone called 911. My assistant, Sarah, knelt beside me, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “Sophia, stay with us. The ambulance is coming.”
Moments later, I was in a hospital bed as doctors rushed around me. Words like cardiac arrhythmia and immediate surgery echoed in the room. Panic clawed at my chest.
“Please,” I begged a nurse, “my phone.”
With trembling fingers, I tried to call my parents. Straight to voicemail. I sent frantic texts:
Mom, I’m in the hospital. Dad, please answer. They’re taking me to surgery. I’m scared.
The nurse gently took the phone. “We need to go now, honey. I’m sure they’ll be here when you wake up.”
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