You Got It.

23 Jan

I think I’m finally able to admit and announce my disease. I believe I’ve suffered from it from some time now. I denied it for a long time…although others told me it looked as if I was plagued by it. I am a hypochondriac. What’s that? Well, Webster says it’s, “The persistent conviction that one is or is likely to become ill, often involving symptoms when illness is neither present nor likely, and persisting despite reassurance and medical evidence to the contrary.” That would probably be me. I mostly very sane, except when it comes to my health and the health of my family.

Watching TV is very hazardous. I remember watching John Q, with Denzel Washington, and suddenly feeling as if I had heart failure. No really. I get what you got. I watch something and then suddenly I have all the symptoms. For example, I just recently found out I get the Lifetime Movie Channel. My little bedroom TV rarely sees another channel since. Lifetime is full of illness & emotions & awful acting. I’ve done pretty well with it though. Crying when necessary and after the show, wiping up those emotions and being done with it. Honestly, I thought nothing bad would come of it. Like I said, I’ve always denied the fact that I was a hypo…well, you know. Just a few night ago I watched, Switched at Birth, which is, obviously, about 2 newborns that were, perhaps purposely or accidentally, switched at birth. Anyhoo, one of the mothers dies when the baby is just 18 months or so. She had a few tummy aches and within a few days they told her she was dying of ovarian cancer. Oh the horror. You should have seen me starring at that TV. Of course, I thought, how horrible and went back to watching, but in the back of my mind, that little crazy tick was just ticking away, putting all the crazy thoughts into my head.

So, last night I felt a slight pain in my pelvic region. What’s the first thing that pops into my head. Right you are! Never mind the fact that I know there are many causes of pelvic pain. With all the medical facts I know, I could be a doctor…or at least a cool little nurse. One cause is stress and tension. Something I live with daily having three kids and all. But none of this even possible to me. So then my mind starts spiraling out of control. I think of all the reasons why it could be possible. Then I think of all the reasons why it couldn’t be. I just had a pelvic exam and pap in November, and I just knew the results from that were going to be that I was riddled with genital warts and cervical cancer. Blah. I know. Nuts. Anyhoo, the doctor said I was perfect and the pap came back normal. I’ve always had normal paps. So, if I’m suffering from ovarian cancer wouldn’t something have come up, not on the pap, but in the pelvic exam. Surely, this should ease my stressed out mind. Yes, it does…except the Internet is a dangerous thing. And these little fingers searched and searched for info that only led me to believe I’ll be dead in 2 days. Sometimes you have no symptoms until it‘s too late or until it spreads to the stomach…and sometimes it’s not caught in a pelvic exam. Oh the horror.

I am, however, my own shrink. I have a way of talking myself out of these hypochondriac episodes (as they often turn into full fledge panic attacks). I almost want to slap myself now that I see what I’m doing to myself. Logic often fails to knock on my door and say hey, wake up, don’t you see a nasty pattern here. It just passes on by and leaves me waiting for good ol’ panic to come over. I listen to my body too much. Every little twitch, twang or bump as me analyzing it cause, “it wasn‘t there before was it?” I mean, I think it’s good to know my body…but I think sometimes I need to look down at it and say, will you shut your fucking mouth already?

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