The Lull

I've read that being a hypochondriac is cyclical. Apparently (and this is exactly how it happens to me) you'll have periods of time where there's no worries (or at least they're bearable, punctuated with fits of 'oh my god I have myospondocardiohypoglycidextrtosis of the uvula'.

This is definately how it works for me. However, its never really gone. Its always there in the background 'forcing' me to do stupid things like checking to make sure I have a pulse (as if I could check it if I *didn't*), evaluate any physical sensation in the context of one of the big three.

"Was that twinge from the 3 hours I spent on a bike yesterday or spontaneously developing ALS?"

Right now, I'm in a lull. Which is good. These are the times where I can see how nuts I can be and wonder how I can ever get this way. Usually these times are mediated by the Zoloft (or some other type of SSRI) but eventually I'll even stop that and I'll be fine for a while. The therapist seems to think this is caused by the fact that during the 'good' times I'm sort of repressing the anxiety until I can't any more and then I have the 'bad' times where I get it all out.

This is the point of the meditation. To sort of acknowledge the stress as it occurs, deal with it then, and then hopefully 'pop off a clip in its punk ass'.

Metaphysically speaking, of course...

Contemplating my belly button

The meditation thing is sort of interesting. I have to admit its EXTREMELY calming. To the point where I wonder if I'm dozing off. After the 8 minutes are up I really have to sit there and sort of ramp up again.

In other news, i have nothing funny to say. Maybe my humor comes from being freaked out...

Sniffles = Aneurysm

More like a minor derailment, actually. Even though I got the gold seal of approval from my doctor on the last visit, I can still manage to conjur up some malady. Currently I have this thing where when I sniff (like because my nose is running) I can get this wierd feeling in my lower abdomen. So, here's how it goes in my mind.

I sniff.
I feel something in my abdomen.
What connects the two?
My aorta.
I have an aortic aneurysm

See! Simple! Man, I wish they'd put those conclusions closer together so I wouldn't have to jump so far...

Oooooooom

I've started a book called "8 Minute Meditation". Seems like a book for someone with a short attention span. The therapist seems to think it'll help. Here goes nothin.

Wooosaaaaaaaa

My Doctor Geeks Out

So I went in to talk about the zoloft. After some discussion about it and about some other questions I had he asked me if I had had the Berkeley test. Now the last time I went in I had some high-end whoopass cholesterol test that came back with like 4 pages of badness. All kinds of words like "high risk" and "syndrome X" (which sounds like an excellent band name) and various other bad news.

At the time, this was 'da bomb'. This was May. So now I go in and he has this other test called the Berkeley Heart Lab Cardiac Risk Assesment. I swear to you in the hour that I was there I heard him, the nurse, and the nurse practitioner talk about this thing to no fewer than 4 people. While I was waiting he was giving results to one person and they were ordering it on 2 others. There were boxes stacked up in the x-ray room from this place with, I'm sure, brochures and ordering materials.

I swear while he was telling me about it he had this look in his eyes like he was describing a '68 Corvette. Apparently this thing can tell you what kind of diet you should follow, whether you should drink alcohol, what color underwear you should wear, if you should use styling gel or wax and what ratio of stocks to bonds to put in your portfolio.

Just what I need. Definitive proof something is wrong.

Doctor Day, 2006

I had a whole day of 'health' yesterday. I had already had an appointment with the doctor to talk about the zoloft. So I figured (since I was sure to be in a panic) that I'd schedule my therapy the same day. Then, just to mix things up, I threw in an eye doctor appointment for good measure.

I have to admit it was a very expensive day. I think my flex spending account is going to get a workout and its not even the end of January.

I'm needy

I think all I really want is for a doctor to say "You won't die any time soon". In those exact words. Not "there's not cause for immediate alarm" or "I'm optimistic about your future" or any crap like that. I mean, really, why is it a requirement for them to be 'glass half empty' people.

I can't imagine having one of these people as a friend or even worse, married to one. Can you imagine a normal conversation?

Doctor:               "Good morning honey, did you sleep well?"
Doctor's Wife:     "Not really, I tossed and turned all night with a back ache..."
Doctor:               "Really?  Maybe you have menningitis.  Okay, off to work!  See ya tonight..."

That could get depressing after a while.

Mind over blood pressure

The whole reason I gave up (or tried) the BP medication was because it was making me feel like crap. Especially when mixed with small amounts of alcohol. I mean, I'm all for getting my buzz on but not after one near beer (or shot of vodka, as it were).

Funny thing is I started taking my blood pressure with the intention of proving that it was too low. So, every time I'd take it, it was. With the exception of at the doctor's of course.

I'm thinking this has turned from general craziness about my health to some specific phobia about my blood pressure. This is akin to needing medication and being afraid to take pills.

Highly unfortunate.

Odds

You know. The lifetime odds of a male being diagnosed with some heart disease or having some related incident are 1 in 2. Seems like with a 50% chance, no matter what you do it doesn't matter. Especially since the odds of dying of cancer are also something like 1 in 2. So you either get cancer or you have a heart attack or heart failure.

Yes, this is all very morbid but somehow liberating. Not that I'm giving up on getting better but somehow, I have to find a way to stop caring so much. I read a very interesting article yesterday about hypochondria. There was an extremely interesting point about the difference between hypochondriacs and 'normal' people:


Interestingly, research suggests that people with hypochondriasis make more realistic estimations of their risk of disease than most people, and in fact underestimate their risk of illness. Most people simply underestimate their risk even more.


In other words, we (hypochondriacs) actually are more realistic in our estimation of the chance of disease than most people. Even though we underestimate the true odds.

Here's the link to the above article

Well that was a complete flop

I made it less than 24 hours... Of the BP medication. The day started out fine and then it all kicked in. I started freaking out about it, checking it constantly. It's really a sad state of affairs. So, I decided that I'd start taking it again with the goal of once I can get a good reading in the Dr. office I'll try it again at home.

I guess that's the real test... There's that word again.

Its bad all over

The second interesting thing that happened to me at the Dr. office yesterday wasn't medically related. Once I got in the exam room he left to take a phone call. I can hear him bitching at a credt card company for a good 10 minutes. He then comes back in the room, sits down, and commences to complain about how poor service he's getting and how they just don't listen or pay attention to him.

Oh....the irony.

A big leap

So I went to the Dr. yesterday to talk about some side effects I've been having from the recent musical drugs we've been playing for my blood pressure. Again he tried to push a beta blocker on me. I balked because of the reviews I've raid claiming that it makes you feel like you've got an anvil in your drawers. Not to mention the reports of people having heart attacks and strokes when they try to get off of them.

This does not sound like the drug for me. Not only that but he finally admitted that he agrees I have white coat hypertension. Of course he still wants to treat me as if I was going to stroke out at any minute. I know white-coat isn't benign and that it usually turns into sustained hypertension but I'm not ready to embark on 40 years (hopefully) of feeling like I've run a marathon.

He also mentioned the fact that I since I've lost so much weight that I can try and stop taking anything and see what happens. SOOOOO, that's what I'm trying. And let me tell you, if you thought I was worried about being ON BP drugs, I'm even more so about getting off them. Not so much that I'm worried I'll have a heart attack but that I'll find out I really do need them.

So, wish me luck. I didn't take it this morning. The stuff I've been taking takes days to get out of your system but I guess I'll know how I'm doing by the end of the week.

Wish me luck.

Test Anxiety

As you may or may not know, my personal brand of nuttiness has to do with my blood pressure. When I was 24 I was told in the emergency room that I had high blood pressure (doesn't everyone). Now for the most part when I take it at home its normal. And even the doctor acknowledges that my high BP isn't that high, its just above 'normal'.

So for years I just accepted that it was high in the Dr. office and that I was OK. I say accepted. What I mean is, I didn't freak the f**k out every time I thought about it. For most people accepted means "I don't think about it". For me it means "I don't think about it more than 30% of the time I'm obsessing about something". Hey, its a small victory...

Anyway, the Dr. I got after I moved had differing opinions. After my second check up he furled his brow (I think. I'm not real sure what furling is) and said he wanted to give me medication. First visit. Second visit he was even more adamant. Anyway, short story long, he freaked me out. From that point on my BP has been a problem. Normal at home but ever higher in his office.

This is like a car that won't make that noise in front of the mechanic. Except, that its in reverse. I used to think the my problem was the Dr. Then they started having the nurse take it. Then I thought it was the nurse. So they started just leaving me alone in a room with the machine. That didn't work either. I'm starting to see that this is like test anxiety. That feeling you get right before the SAT or your driver's test. For some reason I get the feeling that I'm going to 'fail' the test of blood pressure. Of course, this only makes my blood pressure go up so I do fail. I thought about having one of those 24 hour monitors but I think that would just be 24 hours of anxiety.

Its like I need someone to sneak up on me and take my blood pressure. I wonder if I can hire someone to do that?

Man, my therapist is gonna write a book.

Dr. Google, M.D.

Something occured to me today. Like all good hypocondriacs, I spend an inordinate amount of time on google looking for my symptoms du jour. And as I've noted previously, any search of google turns up one of three things:

1. Death
2. Sudden Death
3. Slow Painful Death

I don't know why this just occured to me but let me give a hypothesis.

Thesis: Google is garaunteed (by design) to make you think you are dying.

Abstract: Any search of google on medical symptoms will return as a top choice a dreaded and usually fatal disease. The usefulness of these results will be inversely proportional to their pagerank and directly proportional to their ability to freak you the hell out.

Hypothesis #1: Hypochondriacs (hereby refered to as 'nut cases') are programmed to seek out confirmation that their physical symptoms are those of a deadly or debilitating disease. Said nut cases will also bypass dozens of other links describing benign illnesses on reputable sites and will instead find the most deadly illnesses on most outdated sites available.

Hypothesis #2: Google's 'magic' is based on the fact that the more you click on a link the higher it will return in the next search.

Therefore, the more nut cases search google for diseases, the more bad crap they'll find. This will result in even more searches ad infinitum (or absurdum).

What we need is a search engine where healthy people search for our symptoms for us and then give us advice and maybe tell us some sort of supplement or action we could take to alleviate said symptom.

Man, that sounds really familiar.

I think the Zoloft is kicking in

This has been a pretty good day. Even though it started off by getting my teeth drilled at the dentist. Lately, even that makes me wonder what sort of malidy I'm going to get. Like are they gonna nick a vein and have to rush me to the hospital (yes I know there are no veins in your teeth) or maybe this time I'll be allergic to the novacaine (even though I have something like 20 fillings).

Its pretty damn funny when you're typing it. I mean its so obviously an irrational fear. Its like how my wife won't talk on the cordless phone during a lightening storm. She SWEARS that she can get electrocuted. I used to try and explain how that can't happen. Now I just make loud lightening noises and switch the lights on and off to see if I can scare her...

I'm glad she's not vendictive. One falsified medical report or phone message and I'd be in the ER.

So therapy was interesting. I found myself sitting there talking about my problems and hearing just how irrational they all sound. I wonder if other people go through that. It reminded me a lot of reading Ann Landers:

"Dear Ms. Landers,

I'm having a problem with my boyfriend. He's been stealing money from my purse, slipping me roofies, hitting on my 13 year old daughter and having all kinds of 'associates' drop by unannounced to buy some sort of 'tonic powder' that he sells. He's asked me to marry him (or give him power of attourney, either one) and I'm wondering, do you think this is a good idea?

Signed,

Unsure in Omaha"

When you read these you find yourself screaming at the paper "NOOOO!". Its obvious. And I always wondered how anyone could write a letter like that and actually mail it. I mean, how can you not see the answer staring you in the face? And then, I go to therapy and commence saying things that I know are causing the therapist to scream in her head "ARE YOU CRAZY!?!?".

I guess no one takes their own advice. Maybe that's the point of therapy. That you tell your problems to a complete stranger so you can hear how dumb they sound, get embarrased and try fix it so you'll never have to tell anyone those things again...

Woooosaaaaaa

So in therapy, the bulk of my "hour" (I use quotes because, just like on TV, it lasts 50 minutes) is spend talking about how things have been since my last session. So far, that has been crappy. As I've related previously, this has been a 'challenging' month to say the least.

Anyway, then we get into the WOOSAAAA portion of the "semi-hour". This is the part where we practice relaxing. Let me just say this first. The therapist is a tall slender woman of Indian (or Pakistani) origin. She is probably the most calm person I have ever met. She is the physical embodyment of Xanax. She speaks slowly and softly. So much so that I find it hard to even get anxious with her around. I think instead of Zoloft, I might actually just pay her to hang out with me.

The actual relaxation techniques are simple enough. Breathing (which I'm an expert at due to my 31+ years in the industry), something called "mindfullness" which means basically that I'm supposed to call my 'problems' what they are; anxiety, depression, whatever. And, there's the sort of redirection thing. This is the thing that's working a little better for me.

This invovles disctracting your brain from going into overdrive. She recommended something like drinking a glass of water or putting lotion on your hands. During this process you concentrate 100% on just that task. Nothing else. This seems somewhat dangerous to me because what if I get like addicted to putting lotion on my hands? I think people might look at me strangely. And it might make my keyboard sticky...

I prefer to go a different route. I do math. Which, for me is a HUGE distraction. I count backwards from 100 by 3s, I do double digit multiplication, or squares of numbers. All of this amounts to using up the precious few brain cycles I have on doing something I'm no good at. It seems to help. Usually by the time I get to 16x16 I'm so involved in carrying the 1 (or is it the 2) that I can barely remember what numbers I'm multiplying, let alone that I'm having an anxiety attack.

Its good, you should try it.

Therapy schmerapy

I go back to therapy tomorrow. My 'sessions' have been interesting to say the least. I had the classic ideas about therapy. That I'd lie on a couch and talk about my mother and my childhood. That she'd show my pictures of ink stains and I'd say that they reminded me of boobs or demons (or demons with boobs). Of course all this comes from TV. And, suprisingly, with the exception of the demon boobs, it was all very accurate.

I can't shake the mental image of Bugs Bunny as Dr. Frued and Elmer Fudd on the couch...

Zoloft to the "rescue"...

Tales of my recovery have been greatly exaggerated. Its been forever since I've posted. Mostly due to the monumental freak outs that I've been experiencing. I started Zoloft on the day of my last post (12/15/05). The next day I had what can only be described as a complete melt down. It was the day of my annual Christmas party at my house. Things started off well enough. Then mid-day it all went to hell.

I spent the rest of the evening in what seemed like a never-ending panic attack. First time that's ever happened to me. After that, everything was sorta normal for a few days. Then my dosage got upped (from the starter to the normal dosage) and BAM! It happened again. It just so happened that this was Christmas day. I spent the whole day thinking I was having a heart attack. Yay.

Well the following days went pretty much like normal. One day I'm fine, the next I'm a wreck (but a little less of a wreck than before). This time around has been exceptionally hard to deal with. At least, I think it has been. I tend to block out the past episodes so all I remember is being really scared and spending copious amounts of time on the Internet.

I have been able to relax more recently so I'm hoping the Zoloft is working some magic. Barring any odd side-effects, I think I've committed to taking it for a full year. If I can get through a year without losing my mind, maybe it'll give me enough distance to keep a clear head on my own.

Sorry for the boring post, I promise to be funny later.