While sitting in the waiting room, trying to hold myself together, I managed to message my best friend. I didn’t even fully explain what had happened—I just told her I needed her. By the time I was taken into a ward for more serious assessment, she had already arrived. Seeing her there brought a small sense of relief in an otherwise overwhelming situation.
When I arrived at A&E, about an hour and a half after the bleeding had first started, everything felt surreal. I was seen by two gynaecologists and several nurses—every one of them women, which made me feel slightly more at ease. Still, the constant movement of staff, the clinical environment, and the seriousness in their voices made it clear that this wasn’t something minor. One of the doctors told me that if the bleeding didn’t stop by the next day, I might need surgery. Hearing that word—surgery—made everything feel even more real and frightening.
