How are you?
February 14, 2004
Today my hypochondria is in remission but I never know quite when it will flair up. I was a little light headed yesterday and assumed I had internal bleeding, a cerebral aneurism, a tumor. Today, I feel fine but I've gone through this so often. Mild symptoms metastasize in my mind into full blown and incurable diseases. A tickle, an ache, a twinge and I am polishing my obituary.
In one of the surprisingly few books on the subject, I read that hypochondria is called "woeful imaginings" and I wonder to what extent it is a function of the strength of one's imagination. I like to think I am a particularly sensitive person, more likely than most to zero in on the normal changes my body undergoes. That sensitivity, bolstered with sketchy medical knowledge, blooms into obsession as I check and recheck my self, comparing my observations with the old wives' tales and half read articles in my cerebral database.
Maybe it's hereditary. When I was a kid and the evening news would run a preview, threatening us with a story on the latest cure for pancreatic cancer or a mysterious new epidemic in Central Africa, my Mum would grab for the remote and zap whatever might infect our imaginations with fresh material to obsess over. It must have worked --she's in perfect health and her father is still alive and well and 94.
Or maybe it's just a subconscious excuse to fill idle time with self-indulgence, narcissism, and other attractive traits I already know I possess.
A lot of hypochondriacs run to the doctor with every symptom. But I have a different form of the disease which causes me to avoid doctors altogether, fearing that if they just catch a sight of me they'll immediately identify a half dozen fatal end stage diseases. Ironic, considering how much time I've spent in hospitals with Patti.
A year ago, I summoned enough courage to have a physical. It was terrifying but I experienced near orgasmic release when I received a complete clean bill of health. Since, I actually managed to take a severe case of melanoma in for the doctor's opinion. He diagnosed it as poison ivy and released me to my fate.
Hypochondria is pathetic, a joke. For doctors, it's just a waste of their time and energy. People who don't suffer from it have no clue how tenacious and debilitating it can be. Medically, it is essentially an unstudied malady and the only current treatment is a healthy dose of antidepressants. The only permanent cure, it is said, is far worse than the disease: to actually contract something real and deadly serious that will replace the writhing of one's imaginations. It's just a variation on the old joke about the hypochondriac's epitaph: "See I told you there was something wrong with me."
But, I'm fine.
Really, I am.
Why? Don't I look fine?
A record of my exploration into all aspects of drawing, illustrated journaling, creativity, and the inspiring aspects of art. By the author of "Everyday Matters," "The Creative License", and "An Illustrated Life" and other books.
Comments
You are so fine!
You reminded me of the summer I died of leukemia.
I was traveling with my father’s mom to meet relatives for the first time. One of the homes I stayed in had five children. It was a large Midwestern farm style house with toys and happy noise except for one perfectly kept bedroom – like a shrine – in honor of one small son who’d gone home to God.
That night I took a bath in a tub that had a rust ring around the drain. I knew that’s where the disease was lurking.
My grandmother and her friends watched a soap opera called “The Edge of Night.” Someone was dying all summer long of the exact same disease I had. I knew it was a match because I had all the same symptoms. I was always tired – there was no need to call a doctor – or even tell an adult – because I knew for certain I was gloriously – dramatically – “passing away.”
You are fun.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Georgy
Posted by: Georgy | February 14, 2004 10:02 AM
Oh my. You aren't serious, Danny--or are you? I have an unfortunate headache as I read this--I took an "easy" Italian exam this morning which was NOT easy for me. A friend once told me her BRAINS HURT after her first day on a new job. Egad! I guess using more of the gray matter than usual gives your brain that good/bad feeling like your muscles experience after a tough workout.
Anyway--trust me, WE ARE ALL FINE! Don't think another thing about it.
Posted by: Rita Cleary | February 14, 2004 01:51 PM
Ok, go to the doctor's office wanting to talk menapause and throw in possible melanoma's. (ok, first pretend you are a 45 year old woman). The young, female doctor first tells you yes, you are entering into pre-menapause. Then looks at your "spots" and announces...."nothing to worry about--just age spots." Obviously not a doctor who is going to live long at the hands of a fully menapausal woman!
Posted by: Judy Hudgins | February 14, 2004 04:04 PM
We would all rest a lot easier if we can just embrace and accept the undeniable fact that life itself is a sexually transmitted terminal disease! (Hopefully, all things being equal it takes a good three score and ten years or more to kill you though)
;-)>
Posted by: PunkClown | February 14, 2004 05:29 PM
or was that four score and ten?...I never get that right....
Posted by: PunkClown | February 14, 2004 05:30 PM
Tuberculosis... every time, it's tuberculosis.
Posted by: Ana | February 14, 2004 11:55 PM
Danny!!! Have you been listening in on my brain????? :oD
Crazy about 'cha kiddo !!
Bonnie (a fan)
Posted by: Bonnie | February 15, 2004 11:17 AM
Danny, I SO know what you mean. I am a recovering hypochondriac myself, and often fall off the wagon. I'm always dying, but I'll live. Having been trained in Chinese and western medicine, I frequently think that I have both a cerebral aneurism and liver chi stagnation. I keep a stethoscope by my bed, and often listen to my heart at 2am. Good to know that it is a sign of creativity. I think it is also a side effect of being a healer, which you are in spades. Your vitalizing wonderblog is a transfusive tonic that I drink daily. Thank You.
Posted by: Donavan Freberg | February 17, 2004 02:47 AM