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Nov. 30, 2009 Hypochondria for those that don’t know is the extremely irritating psychological disease that forces people to intensely overreact on immensely small medical problems. For instance a while back I woke up in the middle of the night sweating, and feeling nauseous. Immediately I decided that I had swine flu, and entered an extreme state of panic. If you were to look at me from the side you would laugh, and so would I, but at the moment I was busy planning my will. If that weren’t enough I am also uncontrollably afraid of doctors, which is the cherry on top to my humorous problem. Now to the ironic part: After my swine flu “incident”, I called up a friend who is currently studying pre-med and psychology at university. I explained my problem over the phone, and she laughed and urged that I meet her at the local Starbucks (apparently she had a story for me). Later that day we met up at the cafe, I was still recovering from the “incident”. I sat down across from her, and she pulled out a news article from her handbag, that read “Subliminal Suicide”. As soon as she mentioned it was about the death of a British man, I felt the dark, sarcastic humour seeping through the page. Just yesterday, she read, a British man was found in a small river passing through a small English town. Earlier that day the man had discovered a small brown spot on his nose, after hours of deliberation he decided that he had cancer. When confronting his family and friends about his “disease”, they urged him to go to the doctor, knowing that it was probably nothing to worry about. Many minutes were wasted on the man’s metal mind, they could not convince him to have the spot checked. This was a rare case of hypochondria, a rare case indeed. That evening when the man had believed his own foolish theory to the point where he couldn’t detain himself anymore. He rushed panic stricken to the local bar. After about a dozen drinks, he drown himself in the small river, feeling that there was no other way to get out of his dilemma. She finished the article and gleefully looked up. “Well...what did you think?” she asked. At this point I was not only lost for words but probably partially brain dead as well. “Do you want to end up like this guy? Drowning yourself in a river, because of a spot on your nose?” she asked.
From that day on I had a new lease on life, of course it would take time to completely cure myself of this “problem”, but I felt that I would rather spend time working to improve myself instead of spending hours writing my will, and planning my funeral.
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