Feb 24, 2026
Written by
April Chen, LMSW, CGP, CCTS Licensed Master Social Worker/Therapist Certified Grief Informed Professional Certified Clinical Trauma Specialist

I remember it like it was yesterday—except it was more than twenty years ago. The details are still vivid. The fever so high my teeth chattered. The uncontrollable shivering. The fear.
Earlier that week, I had experienced three obstructive kidney stones and underwent what should have been a routine surgical stent placement. But a week later, something wasn’t right. After hours in an emergency room near my hometown in Alabama, doctors discovered I had developed a psoas muscle abscess. What should have been simple had become life-threatening.
I spent weeks in the hospital receiving IV antibiotics, strong pain medication, and fluids. My life was saved—but my nervous system never forgot.
Twenty-three years later, I still notice a spike of fear when anything related to kidney infections or UTIs arises. For years, I struggled with severe health anxiety. Panic attacks sent me back to the ER more than once, convinced I was reliving that near-death experience. Since then, I’ve also endured a pulmonary embolism and a DVT in my left thigh—experiences that reinforced the message my brain had already learned: Your body is not safe.
If you’ve ever had a medical trauma, you may understand this deeply.
When the Body Remembers Trauma
Medical trauma is real. Even when we “recover,” our nervous system may continue to scan for danger. A minor symptom can trigger catastrophic thoughts:
What if it’s happening again?
What if they missed something?
What if this time I don’t survive?
What if what I saw on (insert your chosen social media or TV show) happens to me?
In my clinical work, I often hear similar stories from clients. A minor health concern spirals into worst-case scenarios. A routine doctor’s visit becomes overwhelming. The body tightens. The heart races. The mind jumps straight to catastrophe.
This isn’t weakness. It’s conditioning.
When your brain has lived through a true medical emergency, it becomes hyper-alert. It tries to protect you the only way it knows how—by assuming the worst so you’ll be prepared.
But protection can become imprisonment if left unchecked.
What We Do in Therapy
In therapy, we don’t shame anxiety—we understand it.
We explore:
What happened medically.
How the body stored that experience.
What thoughts automatically fire when symptoms appear.
What sensations trigger panic.
Then we gently challenge the catastrophic narrative.
Instead of:
“I will certainly die or get really sick anytime there’s a health issue.”
We work toward:
“My anxiety is loud right now, but this symptom does not automatically mean danger.”
We normalize anxious thoughts without letting them run the show.
Coping Skills That Help
Healing from health anxiety involves both the mind and the body. Some of the tools we often incorporate include:
1. Regulated Breathing
Slow, diaphragmatic breathing helps calm the vagus nerve and signal safety to the body. A simple practice:
Inhale for 4.
Hold for 7.
Exhale for 8.
Repeat for several minutes.
2. Cognitive Reframing
Ask:
What evidence supports this fear?
What evidence suggests a less catastrophic explanation?
If this were happening to a friend, what would I tell them?
3. Mindfulness & Somatic Awareness
Instead of fighting sensations, we practice noticing them:
“My chest feels tight.”
“My stomach feels unsettled.”
Without adding the story: “This means I’m dying.”
Yoga, progressive muscle relaxation, and grounding exercises can help reconnect you to your body in a safe way.
4. Exposure with Support
Avoidance strengthens anxiety. Gradual exposure—like scheduling routine checkups or sitting with mild symptoms without rushing to “Doctor Google or AI”—can retrain the brain that discomfort does not equal catastrophe.
5. Limiting Reassurance-Seeking
Repeated ER visits, excessive symptom-checking, or constant Googling can temporarily soothe anxiety but reinforce the cycle long-term. In therapy, we work on tolerating uncertainty in small, manageable ways.
6. Self-Compassion
Medical trauma changes people. Offering yourself grace matters. It’s okay if health concerns hit you differently. Healing isn’t about eliminating anxiety entirely—it’s about responding to it differently.
What I’ve Learned
I’ve accepted that I may always carry a heightened sensitivity around health issues. But I’ve also learned something powerful:
Anxiety itself is not the enemy.
It’s what we do with it that matters.
Today, when my body reacts, I pause. I breathe. I assess. I remind myself that past trauma does not dictate present reality. I seek medical care when appropriate—but I don’t let fear consume my life.
The goal isn’t to pretend nothing serious could ever happen again.
The goal is to be able to say:
“I can handle this. I can respond wisely. I don’t have to let anxiety take over my entire life.”
A Gentle Invitation
If you find yourself spiraling over minor symptoms… if doctor’s appointments fill you with dread… if your body feels like a battlefield rather than a home—you’re not alone.
Medical trauma and health anxiety are deeply human responses to very real experiences. And they are treatable.
You deserve to feel steady in your body again.
You deserve peace—not panic.
You deserve support.
If this resonates with you, we would be honored to walk alongside you in your healing journey.