May 18 - Paranoia Will Annoy Ya

Maybe it's an occupational hazard of being in home health care. Maybe it's because I've actually sat on a beige pleather bench while a perky little doctor in peach delivers the dreaded "it's cancer" diagnosis. Maybe I truly am a paranoid hypochondriac (placating demurrals appreciated here). Whatever the risk analysis, every time I have a paper cut that lasts more than a day, or congestion that won't seem to go away, I'm convinced my entire body is headed for a breakdown.
Seriously, the string of weird physical things that keep popping up, pooching out, pestering me is bizarre. Yesterday, I was back at the doctor again after fever, back pain, and a 5 week history of weirdness finally made me cave and schedule an appointment. (I hate wasting money on doctors. I should have been a doctor.) After the medical assistant rolled her eyes at my symptoms and questioned me repeatedly about "abnormal discharges" (how would I know what's abnormal any more - apparently the hormone game keeps changing!), I again regretted bothering to go. I like the doctor much better than her assistant. She seems to get me. However, the final diagnosis? Wait for it... Wait... Normal. Nothing's wrong. She gave me a pre-emptive, CYA week's dose of antibiotics, and shrugged. Aaargh!

So, feeling achy and tired and itchy and bloated and sore and having frigid digits but a body temp that fluctuates uncontrollably - all to be expected. Normal 36 year old stuff. No worries. Or, I have terminal psychosomatic whatchamacallit, and will be dead tomorrow. Just in case, it was lovely knowing you all, and to all a good night! xo