Jayne's Story

My son needed a red scarf for his snowman costume in the school Christmas play, so after work, I drove into town. I spotted one in the Boots window and headed in. At the checkout, I suddenly felt strange— distant, detached —but pushed through and paid. The cashier looked concerned. As I walked away, everything felt surreal: the lights brightened, the noise dulled, and I could only hear my heartbeat. Then I realised—I couldn't breathe. It was like I’d forgotten how.

Panic took over. As a nurse, I mentally ran through medical scenarios. My body felt heavy, my hands were numb, and I was desperate not to break down publicly. I forced myself to the car, shaking and cold, and accidentally reversed into the barrier. The jolt snapped me back. Running on adrenaline, I drove off—though I have no memory of the journey—and instinctively headed not home, but to the GP surgery.

I stumbled through the door, and the receptionist rushed to help. My GP, a friend, calmly assessed me while I tried to explain. Finally, I understood—I was having a full-blown panic attack. My usually low blood pressure had skyrocketed, my heart was racing. He knelt in front of me and said, “Jayne, this is stress. It’s the job. And it’s not worth your life.”