i think i’ve developed a new phobic condition, undocumented so far in my obsessive research in search of a single case in the general population. like most phobias, its genesis is woven throughout some of the oldest images in my life tapestry. see, i spent a lot of time as a kid, and later as an adult, with some significant and long term health problems. some were obvious, some more mysterious, some likely the culmination and interaction of lots of different dis-eases i stumbled through from childhood on. i suffer little anymore, my toddler seems to have cured a few ailments, and my days of being a “sick person” seem like a different lifetime.
still, as a result of that experience, i’ve developed a phobia regarding hypochondria. now, there are tons of articles and mentions of hyphochondria as a phobia or non-phobic obsession. it’s characterized by a recurrent or consistent fear of catastrophic illness, real or perceived. that’s not what i’m talking about. i’m talking about a phobic fear of becoming a hypochondriac, or even being perceived as one. call me crazy (it’s a big club), but if you know what i mean, you know what i mean. if you’ve ever been a medical mystery for a doctor who would rather make you feel crazy than be wrong, you can probably relate.
and so my whine elucidates its fundamental source, the rock of ages from which the purest drips of my soul drop into moods of all colors, shapes and sizes. i would think that this particular brand would no longer fool me with its tired disguise. i’ve come to the following realization some countless number of times in my life, so why is it still capable of presenting as a sneaky little surprise? i can remember specifically at least three separate occasions where i told myself, if you find yourself feeling this uncharacteristically whiney for no obvious reason, and become a drippy, drawling, mewling complainer who assigns Hal-like intellect and intention to your household trashcan and annoys even yourself…you are getting sick.
simple enough. the life i thought was going so well just days ago is actually going well. the happy drugs i really need are some simple, old-school antibiotics. i’m once again reminded to listen to my body instead of my mind especially when my body is screaming, UTI! and my mind’s best argument is, nah, you don’t have time for that right now and it could be something else that’s causing three days of fire pee. sorry for the TMI, but the mere absurdity of my internal argument compells me to share.
i’ve ignored this out of a sense of obligation to other things, boredom with the idea in general and some hesitance about my lack of a GP since moving. i’ve ignored it until it’s making me queasy and bringing on a headache. i’m grateful for MinuteClinic and hoping they treat this kind of thing, but there are plenty of places for me to address this issue. my excuses are thin and easily overcome. thankfully this type of illness doesn’t preclude weekend company nor ask that company to risk life or general well-being to entertain me. thankfully i’m an ol’ pro at these…an amazing 37 years experience under my belt…so i can treat, fix and weather them well.
but really, how silly can i be? my whole morning resonates with one big, well, DUH! once again i’m amazed at how capable i am of ignoring what i don’t want to address. i can’t figure out if, overall, it’s helped or hindered me in this life. i mean, sometimes things you ignore do just go away. i’ve seen it. and by the power vested in me by myself, i thought i could command those little bugs right out of reality. out germ! out of my nether regions! out of my imagination! i thought i banished them, sent them off to swim in the Eternal Vat of Imaginary Wine i pretend to drink on this blog. (i swear i really don’t drink that much and that it’s NOT why i get UTIs or kidney stones. i don’t mean to be misleading…i treat all forms of alcohol with equal reverence and try to maintain a healthy balance between them.)
so, pee in a cup, i will. smile over a cup after my recovery, i will. listen to my body as soon as it starts complaining instead of waiting for my mouth to say it louder, i will. rest up a bit, i will. and save the rest of my words for a more creative moment, i will.