Life in Hypochandria

[Incognito]

This guys column cracks me up!!

Life in Hypochandria

Copyright 1999 W. Bruce Cameron
http://www.wbrucecameron.com/


I am one of those people for whom the mention of
a disease is the same as a diagnosis. This is
particularly true when those public service
messages come on the radio, listing the 14 signs
of edema--invariably, I have all 14 symptoms.
Like this:

Public Service Announcer: "Do you have skull
apathy? Skull apathy afflicts one out of ten men
who were present during atomic bomb tests and
then later fell into the Love Canal. Listen
closely to these symptoms:

"Has there recently been an obvious change in a
wart or mole, such as pulsating colors or bird
whistles?"

(Ohmygosh, yes! I have a mole I've been calling
Bullwinkle, because that is sort of who it looks
like, and lately he seems to have developed a
funny bend in one of his legs.)

"Do you sometimes believe you can see Al Gore
talking without moving his lips?"

(Yes!)

"Do you think you are like everyone else?"

(Doesn't everybody?)

"Do you have trouble booting Windows 98?"

(Yes!)

"Do flames shoot out of your eyes when you are
driving at night?"

(Yes! Well, sort of.)

"Are you troubled by cold sheets, swooping bats,
percussion grenades?"

(Yes Yes Yes!)

"Did you cry at the movie Titanic, even though
there were other guys in the theater?"

(Yes! Hey wait, I didn't say that.)

"If you answered yes to any of these questions,
it is probably too late to see a doctor. In
fact, you probably lapsed into a coma somewhere
after the third question. Have a nice day."

Just great, now I've got skull apathy and I'm
about to go coma. I zoom home and breathlessly
dial my doctor's telephone number, assuring
the receptionist that this is a life and death
emergency and yes, I have insurance.

"This is Doctor Spleensplitter."

"Doctor Spleensplitter! This is Bruce Cameron!
Thank God you answered the phone."

"Oh, I'm... I believe I picked up the wrong
line."

"Dr. Spleensplitter, I've got the top ten reasons
to have skull apathy, plus I can feel a coma
coming on. You have to help me!"

"Skull apathy?"

"Yes."

"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing, Mr.
Cameron?"

"Well, I have this mole shaped like a moose, only
lately it looks like it has developed a limp."

"Well then. Maybe you should see a
veterinarian."

"Plus, I sometimes see Al Gore using Windows 98
without moving his lips!"

"Mr. Cameron..."

"I need some of those same pills you gave me last
time."

"Mr. Cameron, those were placeboes."

"Yes, that's what I need, more placeboes! Only
more powerful ones."

"More powerful placeboes."

"Yes!"

"Mr. Cameron, may I ask you a very important
question?"

"Yes, I have insurance."

"No, not that. I was reviewing your file the
other day..."

"You were? Why, do you suspect I've got
something even more serious than skull apathy?"

"No, actually, it's because our staff requested a
whole new filing cabinet to put it in, and I
wanted to see if there was anything in there we
could throw out. Mr. Cameron, do you realize
you've complained of nearly every malady known to
man?"

"I have?"

"Plus some I'd never heard of before. Wake
Apnea. Sudden Shower Syndrome. Reverse
Appendicitis. And now this new one..."

"Skull apathy?"

"Precisely. Mr. Cameron, has anyone ever
suggested to you that you might be suffering a
bit of hypochondria?"

"Hypochondria? Is it serious? What are the
symptoms? Tell me straight, doc, how much time
have I got?"

"No, it isn't serious at all. In fact, a lot of
people have it, in some form or another."

"So I caught it from somebody else?"

"Mr. Cameron, hypochondria is merely a term for
people who worry obsessively that they may have
some disease or affliction."

"Well, I am worried! I'm worried I might have
hypochondria! Are there any placeboes that can
be used to cure it?"

"You're not understanding me, Mr. Cameron. It
isn't a real disease."

"You mean I'm sick with something FAKE?" This
opens up a whole new realm of doom that I hadn't
even contemplated before. I swallow, feeling the
first trickle of a whole host of phony symptoms.
"What's next, a CAT scan? An MRI? Should I have
my internal organs removed? Doc, I'm too young
to have hypochondria. I was just beginning to
live life to the fullest!" Well, maybe not to
the fullest, but I had just purchased fresh
batteries for the TV remote and was looking
forward to a night of crisp channel changes. Now
it seems pointless, somehow.

"Mr. Cameron, I'm afraid I'm not making myself
clear, here. There's nothing really wrong with
you. You just have a morbid obsession."

He thinks he is fooling me, with his medical
jargon, but I know what morbidity is. From the
Greek word "Mortimer," which means death.
Mortician. Post Mortem. Today I mort, yesterday
I morted, tomorrow I will have mortalized.
Tomorrow.

"24 hours." I whisper.

"Mr. Cameron?"

"I appreciate you calling me, Doc."

"Well, I didn't call you."

"Whatever. I just... having one more day to at
least put my life in order, maybe catch one last
episode of Baywatch..."

"Mr. Cameron."

"Yes?"

He sighs heavily. "I'll call in a prescription
for some placeboes right away. Treated
aggressively,you should be well on your way to
recovery by the end of the week."

[phoenix]

OMJ....I have that too



phoenix