Self-fulfilling stupidity

I wonder what it is about me that requires me to make things worse. I could understand if my problems were all externally related. Like if I had some sort of stress or work related problems that were causing my special brand of fruitcake.

But the truth is, I bring most of it on myself. For instance, last night I sat down to take my blood pressure. Every time I do this, its done with the intention of being calm. Of course, trying to be calm makes me anxious. And then I get anxious about being anxious.

So, to take my mind off of being anxious about being anxious I try to occupy myself by reading the paper. So instead of reading the sports, I flip to the obituaries. Technically I don't flip right to them. I fake myself into thinking I'm going to pass them and then I page flip until I get to them, glance at the ages of the dead people (to look for 31 year olds), decide whether I should be concerned, and then flip through the rest of the paper. The only other stop I make is at the 3D picture thing in the comics.

This adds a level of rage to my anxiety cause I can't see the F&*^^%N thing. After all this, I take my BP and its a little high. Imagine that.

I swear, I'm going to invent a machine that will sneak up on you and take your blood pressure. Possibly using chloroform or some blunt instrument to distract you.

Married to a nut

Being married to someone like me can't be easy. My wife, god love her, is a fairly understanding person. For the last 8 years or so she's put up with my constant worrying, trips to the ER, "urgent" doctor visits while on vacation, random drugs that make me al kinds of crazy, etc.

But she doesn't know the half of it. I don't tell her all the stuff I'm really thinking. I used to, for a few months. And then I realized that she would worry about it almost as much as I did. If I thought I was dying, she'd be worried that I was dying too. I guess that's her job, being the wife and all.

Now I try to hide most things. That's not to say she can't tell when something is wrong, but that doesn't mean I have to unload on her about it. I can just tell her I'm 'having a rough time' and she'll understand. No further explanation necessary.

Its surprising that something so reaffirming can come from all this. OK, turning the sappy crap off again.

Mama, we're all crazy now

Man, who'd have thought that Quiet Riot could be so insightful? The more I pay attention to other people, the more I realize that we all have our little quirks. Maybe mine are little more...excentric than others, but I don't think its any more abnormal to think I have heptospondochromocytosis of the uvula than someone who's worried about walking under a ladder or won't go in the deep end of the pool.

Of course those people don't require medication and therapy...or do they?

I'm OK, you're not

A few days without a post. The problem is that this blog is about me being a nutcase. But I'm only 50% nutcase. So its difficult to think of anything nutty when I'm not having a 'moment'. I hope you'll understand.

I promise, I'll have a breakdown soon and I'll be back with the funny.

Bleh

Not much to report lately. I had a crazy moment today. I found myself all of a sudden 'checking'. This, as anyone who is a hypochondriac knows, is where we start to go over the list of 'signs' that we've learned from googling various diseases. For example:

If I'm thinking I'm having a heart attack I'll check my pulse.
If I think I'm having a stroke I'll try and wiggle my fingers and toes
If I think I'm having circulation problems I'll check the pulse in my legs or feet

Of course these are all completely useless. To be quite honest I wouldn't even know what to look for. And, if I did, I would probably freak myself out completely at the thought that I really might find something disturbing.

However in my mind, this 'checking' is reassuring. If nothing else its a way to dupe myself into believing I'm OK. Its sad, but its true.

Making up

I didn't get to post yesterday so I have a few days worth. I thought of something interesting in the shower today (after Heidi Klume but before Jenna Jameson). Its at once revelatory and yet, so completely common sense, I'm almost tempted to say its a unversal truth. It has seriously changed my perspective.

I just wish I could remember what it was... I swear I remember thinking that I have to blog this but that I'll never rememeber it. Maybe it'll come back. Probably won't. It'll end up the same way that idea I had for the perfect ketchup bottle. Or maybe it was a new kind of umbrella... I forget.

Not so dumb after all

I had therapy this morning. I told her my idea about studying for a EMT or Paramedic's license. She actually though it might be a good idea. I was surprised. I thought for sure she'd think it was the worst idea ever.

I don't know what that says about her, or me for that matter. So, maybe I'll give it a second thought next year and see how it goes.

I go through menopause...in 30 minutes or less

I finally got my 'wish'. Apparently Niaspan and alcohol are disagreeable to one another. You may recall I was sort of apprehensive and yet waiting for the side-effects of taking this stuff. Apparently all I had to do was have a couple glasses of wine a few hours before taking it.

Let me tell you, it was an experience. At 2:30AM I woke up with a feeling that can only be described as being lightly pan seared. I kept feeling around the bed for the capers and asparagus. It was not only a hot gflash but literally the feeling of having the worst sun burn...ever. And then...it went away.

On the positive side, I didn't freak out. That's new for me. 6 months ago I would have been in a panic. Maybe I'm cured! Time to watch a marathon of ER and maybe a few episodes of Trauma: Life in the ER.

Maybe not.

Stupid is as stupid does

I started taking the new drug (vitamin...whatever) last night. The directions say to take it with a snack right before bedtime. Like I need another reason to snack. It was wierd though. As I got ready to take it I had a little freak out moment. As if the mere ingestion of this pill was some sort of life changing event. I've never had that before really. At least not to that scale.

Then I spent the whole night tossing and turning just waiting for the side effects. Which, of course, you aren't supposed to feel because you take it at night and sleep through it. The side effects never came. I never slept. It was a lose-lose situation.

Cover my eyes and count to 10

So I have this prescription for the new drug. Drug is a harsh word. Its a vitamin. A vitamin that will apparently make me feel like a menopausal woman if I take it wrong, but its hardly a drug. I haven't started taking it yet, though.

This is the strange thing about hypochondriacs. They (I) don't want a disease any more than the next guy. They especially don't want to have to take medication to remind themselves that there is (or could be) something wrong with them. What they (yes, I) really want is for God himself (or one of the lesser cherubim, seraphim, etc.) to come down from upon high and pronounce that you are not sick nor will you be until exactly 3:14PM October 3rd, 2036.

Anything short of this (such as a doctor saying "I can't find anything wrong") will suffice. So, the idea that I have to take another pill is disconcerting to me. I don't want the pill even though I know it will probably lengthen (or at least improve the quality of) my life. Its really just another daily reminder that I'm sick (or, at least, not as well as I could be). Who needs that?

Hopefully I'll quit hiding from the drug soon so I can just get on with being (more) healthy. I can't imagine that'll be any time soon.

Squandered dreams

No really. I had what I think was my first lucid dream ever last night. This is where you're actually aware that you're dreaming and can take control of it.

I'd always heard about them but never once had it happened. I'd always expected that I'd be able to fly or sleep with a supermodel or talk to God...something. Turns out, lucid dreams are just as lame as real ones. Here's what happened:

Act 1. Scene 1.

Setting: The middle of a tree lined street. Its daylight under a blue sky.

I realize somehow that I'm dreaming. I'm not sure what sparks it but it becomes apparent. So with my super human abilities and unlimited control of space time and gravity, what do I do?

I decide to see how high I can jump. About 4 times. I jump real high. And I jump right into those trees. And so then I decided I should land on something soft so I attempt to conjure up a mattress. Yes, that's right...a mattress.

And it didn't work. I tried 3 times, nothing. Then it was over. No space travel. No Heidi Klume. Nothin.

Compared to my normal dreams where I have fish for feet and converse with bowls of clam chowder, that was a let down.

MSN oddities

So you may have noticed that I have a sitemeter at the bottom of this page. This is, of course, complete vanity on my part.

I'd love to say that the reason I blog is to "let it all out" or because "if I can help one person it'll all be worth it". The reality is I want people to read something I write. Otherwise you'd be reading a whole lot of:

"My tongue has been twitching today."
"My earlobes look brown."
"My right pinky toe hair is curling backwards instead of forward."

Things that, in my mind, all equal cancer. Instead, I try to be funny. This has led to visitors landing on my site due to some interesting searches. Mostly from msn.com. Here's a sample:

"blood in belly button"
"katie kouric" (I can't tell you how many hits I get from that one post)
"spleen"
"anyeurism" (presumably because they spell as badly as I do.)
"how to deal with hypochondriacs" (man, I wish I knew)

You can see a pattern. Unfortunately no one has found my site by googling "witty commentary on our times" or "humorous articles on living with hypochondria".

No, I get "blood in my belly button". Well, narcissists can't be choosers...

And lastly

That brings us to today. Yesterday was the first time in weeks that I'd been stressed. The good part is that I didn't start freaking out until 3PM (the appointment was at 4:10).

The bad part is that the whole time I was there my heart was pounding. I tried (barely) to do some meditation while I was waiting but I don't think my loads of meditation experience are able to overcome that one. However, I'm holding out hope. I seemed to get over it quicker.

I was a little on edge this morning and the BP was higher than it had been (however well into the good range). But I have been sort of anxious all day.

Its odd that just one experience like that, even though I'd classify it as good, has left me feeling anxious all day today. I have therapy next week, I'm sure this will be "interesting".

He really is mortal

Second part of the story from my visit. So I mention to him that I was thinking about taking the paramedic classes and asked him if he'd had any dealings with them in the area. Apparently, he heard something different than what I said:

Me: "So, have you had any dealings with the paramedics in this area and are they a good group of people?"

What he heard: "Do you think I should be a paramedic?"

He then goes on to tell me how, in light of my mental...eccentricities...that its a HORRIBLE idea. Beyond that, he begins to rattle off all the horrible things they have to deal with. Old people having strokes, bad car accidents, blood, guts, vomit, etc.

Here's where it gets interesting. He also tells me that many people who take medical training tend to believe they have the diseases they're studying. This I knew. He then goes on to say:

"I remember when I was in school...." Then he trails off for a second and says: "I mean I can't tell you how many doctors I saw thinking....." and then I think he realizes he's talking to a mere mortal.

So, at one point he was human. Maybe even a hypochondriac. I knew it happened but its weird to hear it out loud.

I pass with low-flying colors

I got the test results from my whammy jammy cholesterol test. This is the one that's supposed to tell you everything bad about yourself to give the doctor another pill to prescribe.

It turns out that the standard part of the test (that gives you regular cholesterol numbers) was excellent. Better than its ever been. The other parts were all decent except for one. Something to do with the 'quality' of the cholesterol. It seems even the fat in my blood is an underacheiver. This, the doc says, can be taken care of with....wait for it....another pill. One that isn't a generic and that has crappy side-effects. Its really just a high dose of vitamin B but still...its another pill.

What am I thinking!?!?!

In my ever expanding quest to freak myself the f*&* out, I've been thinking about taking Paramedic training. We have a woman here who is one and its always sounded interesting. Even my wife doesn't seem to think its a bad idea (I think she's more concerned that at least one of us will have to save our son from head trauma or bleeding the next time he dives off of the couch).

It does seem very interesting. The idea of putting actual training behind all the psuedo-knowledge I've gained over the years. I mean, if someone comes down with a sudden case of Ebola, who better to treat them than someone who's had it!

Or, at least thought they did for about an hour...

Amazon has my number

I saw an article in the newspaper today about a book that has just been released. Its called The Hypochondriac's Pocket Guide to Horrible Diseases You Probably Already Have

This seems like exactly the kind of book I need. I mean, why waste all my time wading through google search results looking at things that won't kill me when I can go straight to this book and find the things that will!?!?

There also appear to be some other excellent titles like:

The Paranoid's Pocket Guide whose first sentance is "One in 6,500 Americans will be injured by a toilet seat during their lifetime."

Hypochondria Can Kill : A Disease for Every Occasion, an Illness for Every Symptom which gives us a few gems right in the description. "There’s so much to worry about. Being tall can mean an early demise. Being short can kill, too. Then there are the perils of golfer’s liver and Chinese Restaurant syndrome ..."

Who new I was a niche market...