My Defining Moment
English Assignment: Autobiographical Piece
In an instant, I was wide-awake. An asphyxiating, crushing pressure and dark, dank air felt like my only company. I was dying, or so every part of my being was telling me. The immense, clutching pains radiating from my chest to my jaw could be only one thing… a heart attack. I lay there silently, overwhelmed with crippling fear and panic; frozen, immobile, waiting for what my mind had deemed inevitable. Wait…the pain was beginning to ease. The powerful clutch of dread freezing me was beginning to weaken. My mind flooded with hope. I’m going to be okay.
Once able, I quietly crawled out of bed and ambled through to the open-plan living room of my city centre, one bed apartment, conscious of nothing but my need to seek medical assistance. Moonlight glistening on the granite worktops, I glanced at the barely legible clock above the English oak sideboard and learnt I had less than a two hours to wait for the doctor’s practice to open. I would wait.
Those two hours passed instantaneously; my mind blank, almost catatonic. Experiencing pain with every movement and unrelentingly breathless, I hobbled the short distance to consult my doctor. With a mother’s eye, the elderly receptionist instantly recognised my discomfort and kindly omitted the usual form filling. With a sympathetic smile, she softly asked me to take a seat in the waiting area.
Within minutes, I was sat explaining my symptoms to the doctor. She listened intently and appeared pensive, eventually breaking her silence, not to confirm or contradict my fears but to instruct me to remove my shirt and lie on the bed. Eager to know her diagnosis, I followed her orders precisely, removing my shirt as I shuffled over to the bed.
As I moved to lie down, the immense pain that had petrified me just two hours prior returned. She stopped me mid-motion, able to observe my obvious distress and guided me to an upright position. “That seemed to cause you a
In an instant, I was wide-awake. An asphyxiating, crushing pressure and dark, dank air felt like my only company. I was dying, or so every part of my being was telling me. The immense, clutching pains radiating from my chest to my jaw could be only one thing… a heart attack. I lay there silently, overwhelmed with crippling fear and panic; frozen, immobile, waiting for what my mind had deemed inevitable. Wait…the pain was beginning to ease. The powerful clutch of dread freezing me was beginning to weaken. My mind flooded with hope. I’m going to be okay.
Once able, I quietly crawled out of bed and ambled through to the open-plan living room of my city centre, one bed apartment, conscious of nothing but my need to seek medical assistance. Moonlight glistening on the granite worktops, I glanced at the barely legible clock above the English oak sideboard and learnt I had less than a two hours to wait for the doctor’s practice to open. I would wait.
Those two hours passed instantaneously; my mind blank, almost catatonic. Experiencing pain with every movement and unrelentingly breathless, I hobbled the short distance to consult my doctor. With a mother’s eye, the elderly receptionist instantly recognised my discomfort and kindly omitted the usual form filling. With a sympathetic smile, she softly asked me to take a seat in the waiting area.
Within minutes, I was sat explaining my symptoms to the doctor. She listened intently and appeared pensive, eventually breaking her silence, not to confirm or contradict my fears but to instruct me to remove my shirt and lie on the bed. Eager to know her diagnosis, I followed her orders precisely, removing my shirt as I shuffled over to the bed.
As I moved to lie down, the immense pain that had petrified me just two hours prior returned. She stopped me mid-motion, able to observe my obvious distress and guided me to an upright position. “That seemed to cause you a