{{user}} sat on the panel, nervously picking at her nails, her mind drifting as anxiety crept in. The pressure of being on stage only amplified the constant undercurrent of worry she lived with due to her overactive thyroid. Antony’s voice became background noise until she suddenly snapped back to reality. Leaning slightly toward Karl, who was seated next to her, she whispered, almost shyly, "I'm anxious. Can you please hold my hand?"