1 day and counting

There are certain things I don't allow myself to think about.  This is in order to maintain a certain shall we say "sanity" in my life.  They are, in no certain order:

1.  Death
2.  Doctors
3.  Sickness
4.  Defecit Spending
5.  My Parents Having Sex

OK, there is a definite order to those.  I do my best to put these things out of my mind on a regular basis.  Sometimes I get a little glimmer of one and realize that at some point I'll have to face one or all (okay, 4) of them.

I'm stuck today on doctors.  Especially the desire to get a new one.  I've been with the same guy since I moved here 6 years ago so I'd hardly call it doctor shopping.  I'm just looking for some affirmation.  I know I've been harping on this.  Sorry.  I can't help it.

We'll see how things go tomorrow.  Maybe it will be awesome.  Maybe everything will be perfect.

Maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt.  I'll bet he has a pill for that.

Dead man walking

Two days to go 'til Dr. "You're sick and you aren't getting better"... I thought about it today, he's never once said I was improving, progressing, even heading in the right direction.

Maybe I should just get a new doctor. Not one that will tell me I'm not sick, but at least one that will tell me I'm doing everything I can. Even that will be an improvement. I get the feeling my current doctor won't stop until I'm in a hospital on IV anti-hypertensives and statins.

Freakin myself out

I have a Dr. appointment on Wed.  Normal BP checkup.  Normal by other's standards, slightly worse than a hot poker in the eye to me.

I get really nervous.  I've covered this before.  doctors freak me out.  Mine doesn't even wear the lab coat, its just the whole environment.  The clinical settings, the attitudes of the nurses, the pseudo-life or death situations that the doctors seem to believe you're always in.

So to combat this I've started trying to visualize my next appointment.  This didn't work really well last time but I figured, what the hell.  So while I meditate I try to visualize the whole process.  From the walking in the door to the peeing in the cup to the getting the BP taken.

This isn't working out so well...  So far I can only get to "flipping through the 3-year old magazine" before I really start to freak out.  I figured I'd at least get into the waiting room (in my little mind) before I started getting worked up.

On the bright side, I was able to calm down and get melow again.  That was good.  Otherwise, I think its gonna suck.

On my next birthday (in a scant 2 weeks) I'll be 32.  3-2.  That is spelled O-L-D.  At least, in my mind which still thinks I'm about 20.

I mean, I still feel good.  Actually, I'm in better shape than I was when I was 20.  Maybe even better than when I was 16.  But then, I was 16.  I might as well have been made of Kevlar and cast iron.  At least, that's how I remember myself.

Of course at that time, I wasn't a hypochendriac.  But I was an anxious person.  At least as it pertained to death and other such things.  I remember when the Soviet Union broke up thinking there would be a nuclear war at any moment.  I remember freaking out when I saw an airplane fly over during the first Iraq war cause I thought it would have chemical weapons on it.  I remember breaking down thinking I'd be drafted.

These are not the thoughts of a normal teenager.  I should have know something was up.  Now, 16 years later, I'm really none the wiser.  Still worried just about different things.  Maybe more important things.  I don't worry about my mortality so much as what the loss of me might do to my family.

I don't agree with some people's assertion that hypochondria is a selfish or "self-focused" problem.  That's a part of it.  But I think more of the concern is how will our friends and family deal with our early demise.  How will they go on without me?

I guess this is, in itself, selfish.

Minor incident

I had a minor incident yesterday.  Not too bad but a small set back.  I forgot to take my meds until about 2PM.  This didn't bother me too much.  I just took them and that was that...sorta.

I did think about it a bit.  Well, a lot, but not so much that I freaked out like last time and ran into the bathroom to take my BP.  I did still take my BP and it was a little high (although I dispute the results on the grounds that I don't like them...)

So, of course, I took it again.  This time it was perfect.  So, its an improvement.  Not a big one.  There was no freak out and I was able to control myself pretty well.

That being said, today I had a spaz.  I had this pain in my elbow.  Sort of on the outside of it.  When I looked down at it I noticed my pulse right above my elbow.  And what do all good hypochondriacs think?

Aneurysm.

Damn skippy.  I mean, if you can see your pulse, you're probably already dying.  You've heard this time and time again.  Words like "pulsatile mass" and "big beating blobby thing" (ok, maybe I made that one up) are the stock and trade of aneurysms.

Of course, when I realized I could see the same "pulsatile mass) on my other arm and it was really nowhere near the "pain" in my elbow, I calmed down.

Well, sorta.

feh

Not much to report today.  I called and confirmed my Dr. appointment yesterday.  We'll see how it goes.  I'm pretty certain he'll still say my blood pressure is high (cause I'll be freaking out) but at this point I'm hoping I'll be OK with it.  The last few times I've checked it its been realy good.

I've been trying to come up with a game plan (again) for the visit.  Some sort of relaxation while I'm there.  Maybe even trying to meditate while I'm waiting for him.  The problem is that eventually he's going to walk in the room and that will totally freak me out.

I'm getting a little nervous just writting this.  Either way though, like the therapist says, it is what it is.  I can't base my health, positive or negative, on a number.

It sounds good while I'm typing it.  Ask me if I believe it on June 7th.

The cure for hypochondria

I finished reading the book "The Hypochondriac's Guide to Life. And Death." today.  I have to admit it was pretty good.  Yes its filled with all kinds of crazy diseases and ways to "check" yourself.  So, if you're in a bad place right now, I don't recommend it.  However, if you can stomach reading about diseases then I'd really recommend it.

The author says he's found the cure for hypochondria and gives his version of it at the end.  I don't want to spoil it but its something I've alluded to here in the past.  There are two cures for hypochondria I think.  His (which I won't name) and death.

That's not as bleak as it seems.  Of the diseases of the psyche that you can have, ours is one of the least.  Constant worry isn't fun but its bearable.  It doesn't make you want to wear your underwear on your feet or climg the top of a bell tower and shoot at "demons".  This is a good thing.

First, I wear boxers and how would you keep those on your feet?  Second, I don't own a gun and I'm pretty sure that if you shot a demon he wouldn't notice it.  I mean, he's a demon...

Well, I digress.  Anyway.  Its a good book.  It has some actual laugh out loud moments.  One of my favorite is while he's getting an abdominal ultrasound and has a freak-out moment.  I laughed.  Try explaining that to your wife when she hears laughter coming from the bathroom.

Interesting quote

I don't know if he made it up or if its a quote.  But its very interesting and I thought I'd pass it on.  An instructor of mine said this in class the other night.

"Hell begins when God grants you the clarity to see the things you could have done, the things you should have done, or the time you've wasted."

It really struck a chord with me.  I don't know of the clarity is a gift or curse from God as we age.  I've often wondered if the reason we sleep less the older we get is a subconcious recognition of our running out of time.

There are many things I should have done, and maybe a few things I could have done.  But there is countless time that I've wasted.  Much of it on worry.  It seems counterintuitive really.  To waste so much of my life worrying about losing said life (or even more ironically, shortening it).

My sore throat

I still have it.  Its wierd (weird?  I can never spell that right).  Its not really a sore throat so much as a sore throat and tongue.  This is how I know I'm getting better.  I'm worried about it but not frealing.  I just googled "chronic sore throat" and didn't focus when it said "cancer".

Of course, it always says cancer.  Just for grins, I googled "green eyelids".  The third link took me to a sight called wrongdiagnosis.com in which it linked me to all sorts of maladies of the eye including, yup you guessed it, cancer.

I guess that will never change.  Glad to know I am.

I'm afraid I'm getting cocky.  This usually happens to me at some point.  I start thinking that I'm "cured" and I start acting like there's nothing wrong with me.  This, you'd think, would be the goal of a hypochondriac, to be just like everyone else.

The problem is, that I'm not cured.  At some point, I'm going to lose it.  I'll be walking along and hear about how bad breath can be a sign of foot cancer and then bam, my foot will start hurting.  I don't know if this is because I let my gaurd down or if this is just how it is.

The flip side though is that I'm a mental basket case.  That's no good either.  I need to find a line between full on freak out and "what is hypochondria"?  Something that will let me remain cautiously optimistic.

Either that or I need more Zoloft...

A floor wax and desert topping

I was walking through the local Super Mega Giganto-Mart this weekend and saw the holy grail of pills.  The combined CoQ10 Fish Oil pill.

If science is right (and it always is...until they prove them selves wrong) this pill should add somewhere between 1 and 79 years to my life.  Not only will it increase my cardiac output, lower my blood pressure and improve my mental state but it will also give me a pleasant fishy tasting burp!

I mean, what else could you ask for?  prolonged life AND a fishy burp!?!?!  Where do I sign up?

Not much to say

Not a lot is going on right now.  That's a good thing.  It seems that my normal rise and fall of nuttiness is in 'remission' right now.

That's a good thing.  I'm really busy with riding and work and all sorts of other things.  Maybe that's actually why I'm not obsessing.  I've read that hypochondria is a disease of the wealthy.

I'm by no means weathly, but I don't have a whole lot to worry about either.  Its not as if I'm worried that a dingo will eat my baby or I'll get a sore tooth and die from it.  I think when you have real things to worry about, you don't have the luxury to worry about your health.

Imagine that.  Worry as a luxury.  Its one I'd gladly give up.

It didn't work out so well

Sorry for the delay again, things have been busy. Its no excuse. Well, I guess, it is in an excuse but not a good one. Anywho. My son had his 2 year birthday party this weekend. All seemed well at first. Then I realized I had forgotten to take my blood pressure medication. Now, this stuff takes at least 36 hours or more to get out of your system, and it had only been 30 or so. Yet somehow I found myself in panic mode. And we all know what hapens in panic mode...I take my blood pressure. Lo and behold its high.

The rational person would see this as a sign that I was panicking. That's the rational person. I wish I knew that guy so I could call him and ask him if he knew he had a 1 in 50 chance of dying right...NOW! I imagine he wouldn't be so rational then.

Anyway. The embarassing part is that while I had a house full of people I worked myself up into such a tizzy (whatever that is) that I snuck off to the bathroom to take my blood pressure. It might as well been heroin. If you think about it, its the same motions. You tighten this strap around your arm and then you push a button and you wait. Its addictive. I hate it but I can't stop.

That's the negative part. the positive part is, it didn't ruin my day. I sort of acknowledged that it was high and then moved on (eventually). By the end of the day I had almost forgotten it. Yeah, right.

Of course I had to check it this morning and, of course, everything was hunkie dorie (again, whatever that is).

So I guess on the bright side, I didn't go straight to bed and curl up in a ball and wait for a stroke. Somehow, that's an improvement...

I haven't written in a while

Sorry.  Its been busy.  Let me get this little tidbit out.  I had an 'epiphany' this morning while I was meditating.  You ready for it?

I'm closer to 50 than I am to 16.

Yeah, earth shattering.  Up to now, I've sort of consoled myself with the idea that I'm not so old.  I'd tell myself "I was 18 just 10 years ago" or "I was 12 just 15 years ago".  Not any more.

I apparently wise man told me once that if you want to know if you're old take your age and multiply it by two.  If you don't think you'll make it, you're old.

32 x 2 = 64

Its borderline.  I have high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and I'm overweight.  I also apparently have some sort of wiggly tail on one of my cholesterol  molecules that might as well be made of arsenic.

I also am a vegetarian, and I get more exercise than one person should, and recently, I've been keeping the stress real low.  I'm hoping its a wash.

However, by my formula, I only have about 6 or 7 more years of not being old.  So there.  How's that for depressing?

However, considering I'm 7 years away from old, I feel pretty good.  I'm sure that's a symptom of something.  I need to look that up.  "Feeling good even though you're almost old".

I have this vein in my forehead

And I don't like it.  I mean, I like having a vein in my forehead 'cause the alternative is my forehead would die and fall off.  I can't imagine that would impress either the ladies or make it easy to wear a baseball cap.  But, I digress...

Its a recent "discovery".  This means that its probably been there for some time but I've just now noticed it because my hairline has receeded far enough.  I guess I shouldn't say I don't "like" it.  Its not that it bothers me.  The fact is its an easy way to check my pulse.  Yes, this is psychotic.  I have no reason to find an easier access method to checking my pulse.  But, I find I spend much of the day with my hand up there just sort of feeling my pulse.

Its at the same time scary (as I've stated before, I don't like be reminded of things, like my heart, that can "break") and reasuring.  As if, somehow, my heart would stop and I wouldn't know it for an extended period of time...

I'm such a mess.

Aleve me alone.

For the past week I've been fighting a cold.  Well maybe the flu.  Or cancer.  I haven't decided.  It started with some general flu-like stuff and then morphed into somthing like allergies combined with ebola.  Without all the bleeding.

In order to combat this, I've resorted to taking drugs.  Nothing too powerfull.  A Theraflu here, a Dayquil there, some random cough medicine, etc.  I even resorted to the nuclear option.  Aleve Cold & Sinus.  This is like using a flame thrower to cook a hot dog.  Not only did it dry up my sinuses, but I think it removed all the water from my bladder and lowered the relative humidity in whatever room I was in.

I didn't realize I could be that dry.  I felt like that 1000 year old guy in the Twilight Zone that finally saw his picture and disintegrated into dust...without all the 1950s special effects, though.

The Aleve part worked pretty well too.  I think I may have accidentally removed a pan from the oven without an oven mitt and not noticed it.

This stuff should be a controlled substance.

Narci...Nar...Narcisi...I'm Vain

I started this blog a while back as a supposed way to document my 'trials'.  I think even I couldn't believe that I was this messed up.  The goal was to sort of track my mental state so that I could go back and remind myself that it was all in my head.

Somehow along the way it went from something for me to something I hope other people read.  I don't know why or how.  I think I just want to know that I'm not alone and to make other people feel the same way.

Of course, that all sounds very selfless and of course, its not.  A lot of times when I sit down to write an entry, I have no idea what I'm going to do.  That's usually because I've forgotten what I had planned to write between the time I decide to write it and the time the web site loads.  Maybe if I stopped to think about it, I'd be worried that was a sign of Alzheimer's or something.

I've also noticed that I rarely have a point.  This is how I operate.  This also seems to be how I handle being a hypochondriac.  Its just a blur of diagnosis that have nothing in common and no rhyme or reason.

So, if you are reading this, I appreciate it.  I hope it helps you.  I know it helps me.

The book

I've been reading a book called http://tinyurl.com/jdmy5">The Hypochondriac's Guide to Life. And Death..  Its really very funny.  So far.  It does mention a lot of diseases but sort of in the way I do, poking fun at the obsurdity of them, the medical proffesion, and all things hypochondriacal.

At this point in the book he actually mentions the Doctor I linked to below in Europe that deals specifically with people like me (us?).  Only shortly and for a laugh, but it was ironic to see it.

He relay's an anecdote that I have to share.  It so perfectly describes the hypochondriac mind that it could be written about me (maybe with a different symptom).

The story goes that a man went to see his doctor complaining that he had a frog in his stomach and it was making him ill.  They performed every kind of test available at the time and found nothing.  However, the man wasn't assured.  So they devised a...procedure...to rid him of the frog.

They gave him something to make him vomit and when he did, at that instant the doctor threw a frog into the bedpan.  Having been cured, the man went home happy as could be.  And the doctor thought it was over.

Unfortunately the next day the man showed up and informed the doctor that they were too late.  They didn't get the frog out in time and it had had babies...

This is me.  This is how I work.  I get a 'cure' and I get a new disease.  Its a tough life, having frogs in your stomach...

My cold

Suprisingly, I've not been too consumed by my cold/flu/mumps.  I've realy felt like crap the last few days but even though all medical literature says to go to a doctor if your sore throat lasts longer than 2 days, I don't seem to feel the need to.

I mean, I'm worried about it.  Especially after this mornings Today Show Special Series entitled "How to scare the holy hell out of you".  I think maybe they call it thier health update.  They were talking about the mumps outbreak that's been going around the Midwest.

I'd imagine I'd know if I had the mumps cause I'd look like a blowfish with a stuck valve.  So, with the exception of the occasional "maybe I have strep throat" I seem to not be concerned about my health.

This is new.  Sort of.  That's what's funny about me.  I can take being really sick.  As I've said previously, I hate being sick cause it reminds me I'm not super human but the actual act of being sick is nothing more than a nuissance usually.  Its the fear of the unknown sickness.  More on this in the next post.

Good Link

I just wanted to get this link down now. Maybe I'll write more about it later today. I've read it a few times before and its interesting to hear of a doctor who actuall seeks out hypochondriacs. I haven't looked to see if he's still in practice or making progress, but its interesting, nonetheless.

Solving a Mystery in Medicine

Superman gets a cold

I don't think its a matter of thinking I'm really sick that bothers me any more.  I think its a matter of being any form of sick at all that bothers me.  That somehow even being a little sick (like my current sore throat and general sinus badness) is proof that I'm not invincible.

Of course, I've never though I was but I think being sick is a tengible reminder that I can (and will be) incurably sick at some point.  I'm hoping this will be when I'm 110 years old but, we shall see.

The point is, being sick is a reminder that I'm mortal.  I don't like that.  I prefer to think I'll always be as healthy as I am.  I know that's a stupid notion considering the high blood pressure, cholesterol and whatever else I think I have.  I just don't need such a slap in the face.

I have a cold...or cancer, I can't tell

I was feeling fine on Saturday.  I went to class and went for a bike ride.  Pretty normal routine.  At around 7 o'clock at night i got a sore throat.  I mean like almost immediately.  At first I thought it might be some sort of off shellfish poisoning (you can never be too sure of clams).  Yes, you read that correctly, I thought clams caused my sore throat.

Anyway, I woke up about 3AM with a horrible sore throat, headache, sines problems, you name it.  I took some Nyquil to get back to sleep but ended up staying in bed 'till noon.  This is VERY unlike me.  I'm usually up a 6:30 on Sundays for a long ride.

All day I just bumed around not doing anything really.  I tool some Dayquil which, of course, says if you have high blood pressure you shouldn't take it.  Or, at least, you should ask your doctor.  I have asked my doctor in the past and he said it was no big deal.  In my mind, however, this sounds like "It's no big deal, unless you don't want to die."

So this morning I started googling cures for a sore throat.  Gargling with salt water, tea, cayeene pepper, you name it.  As I've mentioned before, though, there's a side effect of googling anything medical.  It also turns out that a sore throat could be any number of maladies that, if left untreated, could lead to all kinds of crazy things...

I understand the need for medical literature to be complete, but is it really necessary to say things like "it could be a cold, or cancer"?

Katie delivers the goods

I neglected to mention that I owe Katie Couric a big thanks for quitting today. I got about 10x the hits I normally do. All from people who can't spell her name. Well, I'm sure at least one of them thinks that bump on their nose is botulism. So to you I say Welcome!

Breathing causes death

I saw this story yesterday on The Today Show about how grilled (specifically charred) meat can cause cancer.  Apparently they've now found a cure for all other illnesses, poverty, global warming, baldness, and athlete's foot and are now focusing on the only medical mysteries left on the planet.

Seriously, who are these people who research this crap? Why do they have grant money to study grilled steak?  Are they the same people that got money to study why hot pizza burns the roof of your mouth?

The fact is that you can never positively show a link between illness and things like this.  I'll tell you why.  1 in 3 get cancer.  So odds are that most of those 1 in 3 who get cancer eat grilled meat.  However, most of the 2 in 3 who don't get cancer eat grilled meat.

This is the same logic that proves breathing air causes prostate cancer.  I mean absolutely 100% of everyone with prostate cancer breathes air!  100%!!!!!!  How can we let this happen!?!?!?!?!

Spring has sprung

The weather this weekend was excellent. That always leads to me feeling better. Its not like my emotions are tied to the wether. To the contrary sometimes weather can have a negative affect on me. Like when its nice outside and I'm having a 'moment' and it just reminds me bad it sucks to not be happy its nice outside.

That seemed like circular logic somehow.

Anywho, I went on a couple really good bike rides. Went to the zoo with the family. Went to a party for some friends that got married. All in all, a good weekend. Compared to 6 months ago, it was an excellent weekend. I can't help thinking that I'm somehow becoming bi-polar. Not in the normal sense where my emotions flip constantly but in a more broad sense.

Its like I can be trolling along all happy and everything is flowers and blue birds and then BLAMO! something as small as a sniffle and I'm curled up on the couch deciding who gets my worldly possesions when I die of the case of Beri Beri I somehow contracted.

Looking in a mirror

Seeing someone else go through the same problems you do is hard.  The obvious reason is that if you care about someone, you don't want them to suffer like you do/did.  But there's more to it than that.

I think seeing how difficult it is for others to overcome problems shines a light on just how tenuous your grasp is on 'sanity', whatever that is.

It causes you (me) to constantly re-evaluate my control of the situation.  "Am I really getting better?", "What if I really am sick and I'm just lying to myself".  This is very unfortunate for a person such as myself who already struggles on a daily basis with 'normality', but the added stress of watching someone else go through it just reinforces the idea that I may never get 'better'.  That I may only be able to exist.

Of course recently, I've started realizing that maybe that's really all there is to live.  To just exist.  To just be.  To allow things to happen and realize that you cannot control them and that's OK.  Telling an obsessive person like myself to just 'be' is like telling a fish not to swim.

My obsessions are really all I've ever known and giving them up doesn't come easy.

The future

An interesting article on Wired.com. It deals with DNA testing but it seems very related to the topic here; knowledge of the future.

More specifically, do I really want to know what will 'get me'. The author brings up some excellent points about what you would do (or HAVE to do) with the knowledge that you have a real likelyhood of a disease:

"But if you get bad news, you'll still have to cope with untidy ethical and political issues. Should you tell your blood relatives? After all, it's their DNA, too. The next time you apply for health insurance, you'll have to decide whether to disclose your genetic mark of Cain and risk getting turned down. (You could lie, but then - whoops! - you also can't tell your doctor, who could inform your insurer.) And if you're getting married, how much do you tell your betrothed?"

All excellent questions. Not to mention the big one. Do I really want to know how and (possibly) when I'll go? Would I be able to do anything about it other than obsess over my own personal countdown timer. "T-minus 12 years and counting..."

This is where it becomes relevant. The preoccupation I have with 'knowing' about my health. And the idea that I might actually be able to do something with that knowledge. As the article also says, even if you do know, what's likely to be the recommendation? Eat better, excersize more, take a couple pills.

I do that already...now what?

5 stages of hypochondria

I know there are 5 stages of grief. I don't know what they are. Somthing about anger and auctioning or bargaining or something. I figure there are at least 5 stages of hypochondria.

1. Something's not right.
2. Holy shit, I'm gonna die!
3. My doctor doesn't believe I'm gonna die!
4. Repeat steps 2 and 3.

OK, so maybe there are only 4 steps. I think at some point, there is a fifth step. Resignation. You just resign yourself to the fact that you're sick. Not "really" sick, but a non-descriminate kind of sick. Like you have mono or something.

I read an article about this book called "Because Cowards Get Cancer, Too". I'm not going to read it, of course. But the article struck a chord. That being that even hypochondriacs eventually get sick and die. Although, its not a topic that I really dwell on any more. I tend now to focus on the immediate. What is my blood pressure RIGHT NOW? What is that pain RIGHT NOW?

This is a new development for me. I'm not sure if I like it or not. It means that the 'episodes' are much more barable becuase they don't last long but they're much more intense and difficult to control...

Man this post went from funny to depressing in 2 sentences...sorry.

Father forgive me

It's been 5 days since my last post.  I didn't realize that when I was doing the last one.  I guess not much has happened.  Still doing the meditation thing.  That's going well.  It's getting easier to concentrate while I'm doing it.

I'm such a scatter brain that its surprising to think I can actualy focus on something for an extended period.  I mean, I'm usually thinking about something else while I read a book or a magazine.  To the point where I'll read an entire paragraph and not remember a thing.

I can understand zoning out watching TV but reading?  That's a special kind of space-case.

So far so mediocre

1. Blood Pressure? Haven't checked it
2. Heart rate? Haven't worried about it
3. Cancer? No.
4. Aneurism? No.
5. Bruises? Retreating.
6. Knee Caps? We have a winner!

Knee caps have always been way down on my list of things to worry about. I mean, I don't think they serve a purpose other than protection whilst vommiting into the toilet or scrubbing the kitchen floor.

But, they hurt. From bike riding of course. I don't think (or do I...) that I have Osgood-Schlatter's Disease or knee cancer. Although its given me something to stress over. Like:

"What if I can't ride any more"
"What if I need surgery"

Etc. So, on the scale of 1 to "Oh my god I could die any day!!!!!" this is a 2. Right behind "my pinky hurts" and in front of "I have too much hair on my ankle".

Bruised and Battered

I've noticed lately that I've been bruising more easily.  Now let me just stop here for a moment and diverge.  The phrase "I've noticed lately" is hypochondriac code for "I've been freaking out recently".

It means that I've decided that something I never paid attention to is now of some great concern.  This is how things work in my mind.  Things that I notice such as a mole or a large outcropping of hair on my pinky go unnoticed for months maybe years until "all of a sudden" I notice them and start believing they're a new sign of some disease.  For example, the following is a list of things I've "noticed":

- I can see my veins pulsing in my neck
- I can see my veins pulsing in my arms
- I can see my veins pulsing anywhere I focus on for more than 15 seconds.
- If I sit really really still I kind of rock back and forth with my heartbeat
- I can hear my eyes move (Yes, you read that right.  I could write a book on this one)
- I have a brown spot on my foot
- When I walk up stairs I can hear my heartbeat

And finally

- I bruise easy

Things brings us to recent events.  Just so you know.  I take a martial arts class.  And I get beat upon about the face, chest, neck, head, ankle, and really any place you can imagine.  I have come home with mat burns and scratches on parts of my body I didn't even know were accesible. Yet, lately, I've started worrying that maybe I'm bruising too much.  Like I've got some sort of liver disease or some drug I'm taking is making me bleed easier.

Of course I have no proof of this.  I've never paid attention to bruises.  I'm a guy.  I'm supposed to be bruised.  But, as usual, when one 'affliction' runs its course, I have to find a new one.

Slow news day

I can't think of anything crazy to say.  I saw something on the today show about vitamins today.  They were somewhere in between "you'll die instantly if you have too much Vitamin K-12.3" and "you'll die instantly if you don't have enough K-12.3".  

I'm still waiting to hear the news story where 100% of all people who breath oxygen die and that the FDA is going to regulate air as a controlled substance.  I mean, a 100% death rate!  How can the government let this happen!?!?!?!?!

Painting = Anxiety

We decided to paint our kitched this weekend. Seems like an innocous enough task and should be stress-free.  For some reason it wasn't.  I could shake the general sort of feeling that something was wrong.  Even though I had just finished a 30 mile bike ride and felt fine during that.  The whole time I'm soing something simple like climbinb a ladder I'm thinking to myself 

"what if I'm straining too hard and my blood pressure is going up?"
"what if I get dizzy and fall of the ladder?"
"what if Duke doesn't beat GW and I'm out my $5 for the company NCAA bracket?"

OK, that last one might be normal.  Anyway.  As I told the therapist, I'm worried about being...worried.  It seems like I've become more anxiety prone lately.  But not necessarily more about my health so much as about being more anxious.

I think this is how agoraphobics start.  Maybe before long I'll get super detective or medical skills like Monk or House.

P.S. What's with people's last names being nouns on the USA network?

Why hath thou forsaken me?

I was thinking on the walk into work this morning.  I've heard a few people question why God would "do this to them".  Why would a supposedly loving and kind god allow people like me to suffer through a mental problem even though I attempt to be a "good boy"?

A little background on me.  I'm a Christian (if not a church goer).  I firmly believe in God and that he created the universe and all those other Judeo-Christian "things" that we're taught in Sunday school.

That is sort of where I leave off.  I'm not into pre-destination.  I very much believe that God provides free will.  So, in my mind, in order to provide free will, you have to allow things to happen on their own.

In other words he theoretically could just turn the sky green and in pink coulds put "HEY! Worship me!".  But, where is the fun in that?  More specifically, where is the free will in that?

So back to my deep thought.  I don't think God is a micromanager.  I think in order to give us free will he has to stay...hands off (there's a French word for it but I can't spell).

Anyway, that's realy my whole point.  I wasn't going anywhere with it.  Just wanted to write it down.

Beware the Blood Pressure machine of Death

I told the therapist this morning about my incident at the grocery store a few weeks ago. She didn't seem all that surprised about it. She told me I should drop by the grocery store a few times this week and walk up to the machine and maybe touch it or tap it and then leave.

I can't imagine what the check out girl would think if she saw me do that...

Soma...is what they call it

I couldn't think of a good title for this one so I lifted a Strokes song title.  Anyway.  I googled "somatoform" today.

I know hypochondriasis is a somatoform disorder but I didn't really know what that meant.

I found this:

Somatoform disorders encompass several mental health disorders in which people report physical symptoms or concerns that suggest but are not explained by a physical disorder or report a perceived defect in appearance. These symptoms or concerns cause significant distress or interfere with daily functioning.

The most commonly diagnosed somatoform disorders are somatization disorder, conversion disorder, hypochondriasis, body dysmorphic disorder, and pain disorder.

Of which Hypochondriasis is:

...a disorder in which a person is preoccupied with the fear of having a serious disease.

That's putting it succinctly.  Most somatoform disorders seem to have reale pain invovled.  But it seems like hypochondriasis is more the fear of a disease than actual pain.  The article also goes on to say:

In hypochondriasis, the person's concerns about having a serious disease are often based on a misinterpretation of normal bodily functions. Examination and reassurance by a doctor do not relieve their concerns; people with hypochondriasis tend to believe that the doctor has somehow failed to find the underlying disease.

I've talked about this before.  How we aren't having symptoms of a disease necissarily (or even any real pain) but we are misinterpreting normal body function.  The real problem comes into play when we don't find comfort in the reassurance of a doctor.  So it seems that hypochondriasis could really be summed up as:

1.  Misinterpretation of a 'normal' sensation (even if this is a minor ache or pain).
2.  Mistrust of the doctor's reassurance.
3.  Anxiety or fear of a serious disease.

This is me in a nutshell (nutcase?)

Well that makes sense

I'd posted before about how I get lotsa (well, for me) hits from MSN searches on Katie Couric. Turns out, its 'cause I misspelled it. So it appears others are as poor at spelling Her High(colon)ness' name as I am.

Either way, I get eye-prints on my page, and that's a good thing.

Poor soul

I was in the grocery store yesterday. This is the same store that last week sent me in to a panic with its "blood pressure machine of doom". It seems that the BPMoD has claimed another victim.

First things first. I got nervous just walking in the grocery store. This has become a new phenomenon with me. I'm not a fearful person usually. Outside the bounds of my health I'm usually pretty calm in situations. But since I knew the 'machine' was lurking around the corner, calling me over like the Sirens in the Odyssey, it became stressful. I'd managed to avoid it until I got to the isle and heard an older guy talking on his cell phone pacing around the machine. He was telling someone how his blood pressure had never been that low before and that he hadn't even taken his medication.

I could tell he was worried. This made me worried. I wanted to tell him I'd had a similar experience last week and that maybe it was busted. I couldn't do it though. What if it was really low and mine was really really high last week?

I went home and stressed a little about it. I told myself I wasn't going to check it because I didn't need to. HA! Turns out I did. And it was OK.

The moral to that story is I'm a complete trainwreck. Not only am I afraid of the grocery store and the machinery it houses, but I can overhear a guy talkin about his blood pressure and I start to freak out.

Yay me...

May all beings be happy

I hit a new chapter in my book on meditation.  Today's task was to meditate on LovingKindness.  The instructions said to think of some good deed that you've done in the past and remember how it felt.  Here's problem #1.

I'm sure I've done something good.  I'm a pretty nice guy.  Problem is, I can't remember a damn one.  I mean, I can remember simple things like giving a bum a quarter or picking someone up at the airport but that's hardly meditation worthy.  I need to save someone's life.  Or resuce a puppy.  Something.

The second task is to repeat the following alternately:

"May I be happy."
"May I have ease of being"
"May all beings be happy"
"May all beings have ease of being"

Other than being a mouthful (and sounding a little fruity) I like the idea.  Its like wishing yourself good luck.  And then the rest of the world.  And why not?  I could use a little luck.  Like Buddha said, 

"You can search forever to find someone more deserving of happiness than yourself -- but you never will."

A small fish in a big sea of sarcasm

Sometimes I google the term 'hypochondriac' just to see if they'be managed to cure it with a pill or prove that it is actually a symptom of some other disease that I think I have.

What I noticed yesterday was a whole lot of links to people who call themselves hypochondriacs but really aren't.  Its obvious by how well-adjusted these people are.  One blogger has journal entries that go all the way back to 1984.  How could you possible have time to retype things from 1984 if you're worried your uvula is going to fall off!?!?!

Who'd have thought I was inflicted with something fashionable.  Too bad its not cool sunglasses or a nice shirt.

I have a diagnosis!

Well, at least a confirmation.  I am a confirmed hypochondriac.  As diagnosed by some random test on an even more random site.  I scored a 70.  So I'm not a gonner.  But here's hoping!

How to deal with a hypochondriac

This was the query someone entered that somehow got them to my site. Normally, I get hits either from the name of the blog (apparently there isn't much information on spleen issues, cause I'm a top hit) or from Katie Kouric. Not the woman herself, but from an article in which I extol the virtues of seeing her colon at least 3 times a year on national television. But, I digress.

How to deal with a hypochondriac. This is touchy. First, you have to understand how a hypochondriac thinks. I think I've outlined this before. There's a thought process that consists of:

1.) My thumb hurts
2.) I have bone cancer

Its a simple process really. The fact is, the thumb really did hurt. Probably because you hit it with a hammer or slammed a door on it. This information, however, is inconsequential. Pain = cancer (or aneurysm, heart attack, beri beri, you get the idea).

So my first advice is to mot try to understand it. If you are not one of us, you can't. Your brain is normal. So, do not attempt to allay fears by saying things like "That's crazy". Because, that is obvious. Try something like "you should see a doctor about that". It sounds counterintuitive because you know there's nothing wrong but nothing shakes us more than someone calling our bluff.

Second. Be understanding but firm. My wife taught me this. Instead of playing to the fears be logical. This is different than tip #1. What I mean by firm is to not allow us to drag on or wine about problems. Either you're in eminent danger of death or you're not. If you aren't don't be willing to sit and listen to a litany of problems.

There is a corollary to tip #2 though. That is, to be willing to listen to WHY they (we) believe what we do. I don't mean crazy symptoms like your ears being different sized or your pinky toe is red. I mean things like "I saw a report on TV" or "I have a friend that was diagnosed with a disease and now I think I have it". These aren't as illogical as it seems. And you risk losing the person you're dealing with's willingness to talk to you.

Lastly, treat it with some humor. Don't laugh at them for being a dork. But try to throw in a little humor now and then. It helps people like me realize that we need to laugh a little.

Hope that helps. Now, if someone out there would please apply these to me, it would be greatly appreciated.

I had a bad experience

We went out of town this weekend. Back to my old stomping grounds to see some friends and just hang out. Seems like that should have been a nice relaxing weekend. Yeah...not so much.

Everything was great Friday night. We had dinner and drinks and sat around and talked and everything was cool. Then right after breakfast Saturday morning I started to get the feeling like things aren't right.

This is a feeling I can't explain its like I know everything is cool but I know its not going to be. I guess you'd call that anxiety. Its like that feeling you get before taking a test. The rest of the day I just sort of struggled to maintain a positive outlook on things. Not so easy.

A funny story (funny sad). At some point during the day I got up to go to the bathroom. I swear I had this feeling like my arms weren't connected. Not that they were numb or that I couldn't control them. I just could have sworn that I was watching someone else's arms move around. Yes, its crazy. Yes, I need help.

Anyway, on Sunday things were better. I went for a really long bike ride, a personal best. I even blew by this guy who looked like he could have been a pro. That was an excellent feeling. Then we went to the grocery store and I decided to check my blood pressure (this is hours later).

That didn't work out well at all. It didn't register well at all. In fact it was a personal best (worst?). I took it immediately again and it was fine. Of course, this ignited a panic. It's depressing that something as small as one bad reading (true or not) could destroy months of feeling good.

I went home and checked it and it was bad. Checked again it was OK. More checking, a vain attempt at sleeping, more checking. Ad absurdum ad nauseum.

I don't know what sparked all of this. I haven't been meditating on a regular schedule in the last few days. Plus, the last major freak out episode was when I traveled at Christmas. I hope I don't develop some sort of travel phobia.

Sorry this ain't funny. I'm sure I'll get something out of this at some point.

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...

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.

And we're baaaaack...to feeling like crap

I haven't written in a while. Mainly because I've been alternating from panic induced blood pressure monitoring and google searching. Also because I haven't had anything to say but "OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE!". At least, that's how it feels. So as I may have mentioned before my disappearance, I was 'prescribed' therapy. So I went.

Well, funny story, I went on Tuesday. They were closed on Tuesday. How is that for a great beginning to therapy. "You are so screwed up, we actually decided to lock the doors and hide in the back room with the lights off until you went away." Actually, turns out I had the incorrect day on my PDA. And we all know, PDAs cannot be wrong (however, their owners can, and regullarly are).

Anyway, back to reality. So, I went yesterday. It was actually a pretty good experience. Of course, I like to talk to anyone who'll listen (I am an only child) so how could it not be good? She asked all the standard questions about my family etc. Then she asked me "So tell me why you're here". That pretty much took the next 35 minutes of our 45 minute hour (figure that math out...). I went on about my childhood (which was unremarkable in almost every way). Talked about all kinds of things - the first time I paniced, the fact that I know its panic, and that most times I can rationalize it away, blah blah blah. At the end she basically agreed with everything I said. "Yup, you've described anxiety perfectly". I knew I liked her.

At the end she had me practice concentrating on something other than the panic when it happens. She rang this little chime (the kind you see in Pier 1) and told me to concentrate on it as long as possible as a way to stop my brain from focusing on the bad stuff.

Well, let me tell you it didn't work. I thought everything was going pretty well when I got back to work. I sat down and it was time for my daily blood pressure check. And then it spiraled from there. It was high. Not so high that it was dangerous, but high enough to send me into full freak-out mode. I trid some of the stuff she told me to do. I tried deep breathing. I tried focusing on work, I tried conjuring up spirits, you name it. It just got worse.

By the end of the day and all through the night I was sure I was having some sort of hypertensive crisis. Positive that I would have a stroke at any moment. I woke up this morning thinking the same thing. Took my BP and it was good. Of course, my brain couldn't let that stand. I took it a bunch more and it just got worse from there.

Finally this morning after logging on to PanicSurvivor.com I was able to calm down. At that point I took it and it was pretty darn good.

Sorry to run on like this but this site is as much personal journal for me as it is (hopefully) helpful to others. The hardest thing in the world for me is to rationalize my own fears. I know I'm OK, but I don't believe myself. Then I do things to sabotage any sort of rational thoughts that I can muster.

I decided to start Zoloft today. I'd been putting it off until after the therapy. She wasn't against it and I'm apparently not through the worst of it like I thought. We'll see how it goes.

If someone else signs on and claims to be Thor, Ruler of Middle Scratchlactica, call somebody and tell them the meds worked a little too well...

A fine weekend

Good weather, the kid and wife are in good moods...all in all a pretty good time. I freaked myself out Sunday with a minor google-palooza. I rode my bike for the first time in a month (until then I was riding about 100 miles a week or more but the weather hasn't allowed it). It was about 50 degrees but VERY windy. When I got back I had a nasty cough. Of course, I'm all over the internet about lunch cancer, and asthma, and some other random crazyness that I don't even recall. My google cache is so sad I have finally had to turn it off.

I did, however, find an excellent article on risk and probability. To most people this is useless information, but to someone like myself it means the world. When you're searching the internet for your disease du jour, you are invariably pelted with statistics. 1.7x the risk of a 'normal' person for this, 4% chance of dying in the next 10 years from that, etc. Its a great article about keeping risk of disease and death in context. I've mentioned it before that rationally, I know my risk of dying from cancer is something like 50x less than from being hit by a car while I'm on my bike. 3 people were killed just last month in my area on bikes. Anyway, its worth a read.

Making sense of risk information on the web

I could be hit by a bus with zebra stripes at any moment

After a pretty decent experience at the doctor's office yesterday I actually felt better. For about 6 hours. Then I went on to #2 on my list of "diseases I have". As I've said before, if I rule out one thing, I go on to the next. So when my Doctor said

"If you're worried about having a heart attack or a stroke, stop. That is absolutely not going to happen"

Of course in my mind that is translated to:

"If you're worried about having a heart attack or a stroke, stop. That is absolutely not going to happen. However, you may or may not drop dead instantly if at least 100 other things that you may (or may not) have."


Actually, it seems that everything that comes out of a medical professionals mouth sounds to me like:

"...yap yap yap...however, you could die..NOW! oooooor NOW!"

That's the problem. The uncertainty of it all. I once saw a post that put it very much in perspective (not that it cured me). It said something like 'life is a dangerous thing'. In other words, just the fact that you are alive means you could die at any moment. There's always the proverbial bus waiting to hit you.

Its the absurdity of hypochondriacs that we disregard the everyday dangers and focus on the rare ones. For instance, I know absolutely no one that has had a heart attack, an aneurysm, or died from cancer. I've known multiple people killed in car wrecks. I even knew a guy who died playing football. This is the reality of a 1:100 chance of getting these diseases. That is to say, my risk of any of those is less than 1% (at my age). But in my mind a 1% chance is tantamount to saying it happens all the time. I don't panic when I get in a car about dying in a fiery auto crash. But I'd swear that I'm having a stroke at any one moment.

Its a funny thing. It turns perfectly rational people into blathering idiots in a very specific portion of their life. Its not as if I'm this way at work. My job is troubleshooting. And I find myself ruling things out on a regular basis purely because the symptom doesn't fit. If you hear hoof beats, you think horse, not zebra.

It seems that in my mind there are no zebras. Man, that is deep...

Treating Hypochondria

I've thought multiple times about how, if at all, I could overcome my tendancy to over analyze things. I've known for a long time that its an obsessive-compulsion in me to focus on my health. I also know that various drugs have helped me over the years, but I've never quite shaken it permanently. I came across this article, and it seems pretty interesting. Especially the question about it (hypochondria) starting at an early age. I know as a small child I feared (irrationally) all sorts of things.

If it was Nuclear bombs or tornadoes, or air plane parts, I knew they were gonna hit my house. I remember when we moved once I freaked out for months about the fact that we were on some sort of first-strike list for nuclear bombs. I'd try and calculate just how long it would take the blast wave to get to my house (and yes, I mean *calculate*). So, I can see a pattern.

There's another very interesting question that leads to this statement:

DANIEL CAPPELLO: Why do doctors hate hypochondriacs?

JEROME GROOPMAN: There are several reasons. One is that doctors want to deal with what they believe is real disease, meaning physical problems, and not constant complaining about imagined issues...[The last] —and this is sort of the psychoanalytic insight—is that many physicians have hypochondriacal feelings themselves, because they see how fragile the world is. Some people believe that physicians dislike hypochondriacs so much because it is a sort of mirror to their own compartmentalized fears.

I find that extremely interesting. I know I've read in the past that many soon-to-be doctors in medical school go through a phase where they diagnose themselves with a disease they are currently learning. I've always wondered how they coped with the in depth knowledge they have of disease. Considering they are only human, I'd assume not very well.

Full text of article at the New Yorker

Finally, a test I pass

I found a somewhat interesting article that included a test to see if you're a hypochondriac. Personally, I think the test should be one question:

"Do you now or have you ever freaked the f*&% out about your health."

Pretty simple. If you answer yes, you're a hypochondriac if no, you probably aren't. But as many learned scholars tend to do, they had to come up with something a little more "realistic" and "not full of curse words". Of course, I'm sure this isn't official, but I know I scored like a 52 on it so, I think its close.


Hypochondriac Test

A new direction.

Maybe I'll go a different direction here and actually try and be helpful to someone other than myself. There really doesn't appear to be a lot of information out there for people like myself. Not that anyone will ever read this but, its worth a shot. As I find information on my little mental problem, I might post it up here.

As if it could get worse

It can always get worse. I make what was an innocuous stop at my Doctor's office today to pick up a jacket I left during my mad dash out of there at my last appointment, and to *schedule* an appointment. And damned if they didn't tell me they could fit me in right now. A Doctor. Could fit me in. Right now. So I asked:

Me: "When you say right now how long do you mean"
Nurse: "Like 15 minutes."
Me: "Let me get out my calculator and convert the Doctor Minute into the Metric Standard Minute"
Me: "Carry the one, convert the polynomial to a Fourier transform, run it through the quadratic equation..."
Me: "...uh, sure, why not."

Now I'll tell you "why not". Because I was unprepared for this. Usually I have to work myself up to a Doctor's visit. I rarely ever get sick and need to see one so I always know that my next visit will be 6 months away (for a HBP checkup). Usually I go through a process that can only be described as part Zen Buddhist meditation and part (95% at least) sheer terror and panic.

This occurs for at least 3 days prior to the visit. At some point I accept my fate and come to the realization that he will diagnose me with none other than the dreaded Non-Small Cell Multiple Lupus Aneurysm. I resign myself for this, put my affairs in order, and then I am ready.

However this time, I had to do all of this in a scant 15 minutes. This was not enough time. Without going into detail, let me just say that I ended up having a 20 minute conversation with the Doctor. Yes, the actual Doctor. He talked. In English, even. My BP wasn't perfect but it was better. He also mentioned that I might be suffering from "some sort of anxiety".... "Really?", I said. "Interesting."

Anywho I get a brand new prescription for happy pills. Again. Third time might be the charm...

Funny Ha Ha

Sometimes its hard to be humorous about something that can be so time and engergy consuming. Of course I'm talking about being nuts. Usually I can keep it under control. I'll spend 20 or 30 minutes thinking I have a new disease or ailment and then I can (usually) rationalize it away. Here's how it usually works:

"Hey my right hand feels funny"



"Well it can't be the immediate death thing or I'd be dead. And it can't be the slow painful one cause my left hand feels the same way. And we all know that if the thing that's wrong is on both sides, it can't be a disease..."

Most times this is enough to keep me from going into freak out mode. Then there's weeks like the last few. Where google searches confirm what I think I have (only because I've done the same google search 1000 times before). Where the "symptom" doesn't disappear immediately after I rationalize it away.

I can always tell when its gonna be bad for an extended period. It usually happens after I have a less than spectacular visit with the Doctor. My blood pressure or cholesterol is still not where it should be blah blah blah. This sets me off into a frenzy of panic and anxiety that lasts for weeks. I spend my days to anxious to work or even get out of bed but forced to do both so I can afford the Internet access and doctor visits that fuel my problems.

These are the times its hard to be funny. When my normal sense of humor gives way to what can only be described as bi-polar. I alternate between "I'm perfectly fine" and "I could die at any minute". Its not pretty. It never has been. I'm getting better. At least, I think I am. The anxious parts aren't as bad as they used to be and the sane parts are longer.

I'm getting better. At least I think I am.

iPod Hell

I was in it deep. It seems that in my quest for the ability to burn my iTunes purchases to an MP3 CD I borked a large portion of my iTunes library. I finally made it back but it took vaseline, lemon juice and the hair of a ferile duck to do it... Anywho, I'm back in Ozzy Osbourne goodness so all is well.

Otherwise, its been another less than memorable day. That's like 3 in a row. Its been raining like a mofo here for a few days. I know for all those in more northernly lattitudes rain would be a welcome break. But at least you have seasons. We seem to move between sorta warm and sorta dry to sorta cold and sorta rainy. That peppered with ocasional snow and ocasional 100 degree days makes for some pretty forgetful weather.

I realized I've had three paragraphs of completely self-serving rambling... Man, I truly have become a blogger. Maybe tomorrow I'll add some Google ads at the top and a link to a Flikr site.

Slow news day

I got nothin...

Yes, I am a dumbass

So she called. And I'm waiting for her to say "the tests results....(you can imagine what I'm thinking)." But instead she says "...and I told her that *he* was still sick and *his* ears were still bothering *him*..."

Yes, that's right. She was talking to my son's nurse. The son that has been sick for 2 weeks. The one she was going to schedule an appointment for...

I am such a loser.

Not good

So the wife sends me an instant message that says:

"I just got off the phone with the nurse. Call if you get a sec. Nothing major"

Now lets analyze this. I haven't been to the doctor in a month. Yet mysteriously my wife just got off the phone with the nurse. So immediately my mind goes to some test that they overlooked and now, because they care so much that they review patient's results on a whim to make sure they haven't missed anything, they call me.

Of course this is after they call and say my last results were fine. So I'm freaking out. Not panicking but it's not good. And to make matters worse, she goes to lunch. No cell phone, no nothin'. This is highly unfortunate.

Lets also review the last sentence there. "Nothing major". What does THAT mean? I mean, "Nothing major" could mean anything from a bill I didn't pay to an 85% chance that I'll survive the disease I found.

"Nothing major"....indeed.

I don't do this often but...

I saw this and thought "This looks exactly like the coffin they launched Spock into space in!". OK, Spock's coffin didn't have a scroll wheel, but the similarities otherwise are striking!

Zspire Mouse of the Future

This must be first sign of the apocolypse

Al Roker is getting a TV show. I usually try to keep it clean around here but, HOLY SHIT PEOPLE! Have the people who 'develop' shows not learned ANYTHING? Lets look at the long list of popular long-running TV shows starring non-actors or 'personalities' as they are sometimes called.

1. ...Um....wait for it....uuuuuhhhhh....nope, I got nuthin.


Now, lets look at the shows that were monster flops:

1. Emeril (Catchy name, no?)
2. The Al Roker Show/Explosion/Hour/Family


See, Al? I can't even name 2 shows that are the worst shows ever. I actually had to pre-judge you just to find a show that was sad enough to include in the list!

That does not bode well, Mr. Roker. Not well at all.

A long day

And I have absolutely nothing humorous or even sad to say... Just one of those non-descript days where nothing really happens to remember. Maybe that's sad. You only get so many days. Having one that is completely non-specif and unmemorable seems like a waste.

But then again, you can't remember them all. I mean at this point I've had 11400 or so of them. That would be a lot of space wasted on driving, math class, sick with the mumps, watching presentations, lame training classes, etc.

Would I really want to remember all of that...? Good question.

And it rears its ugly head again.

All it takes is one bad 'reading' and I go nuts. Just one high blood pressure reading (which really isn't that high, but I treat it like there's a balloon in my head the size of a Macy's parade float) and I'm going nuts. Checking it repeatedly, going back through what I've eaten or done that might make it spike... It really is nuts.

And of course, there's google. If you could see my search history it would be 50% work related (no decent network engineer could survive without it) and 50% searches like:

"errors in blood pressure measurement"
"high blood pressure aneurism"
"how to measure blood pressure" (this one is especially good since I've been taking mine for at least 8 years now...
"other uses for jumper cables and peanut butter"

Maybe that last one isn't health related...