Worst Case Scenario

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

I could probably be described as a quasi-hypochondriac.

I don't always think I'm sick or anything, but when I am, my mind always jumps to the worst possible cause. I'm pretty sure that I can trace this back to my childhood. Specifically, 1991. What happened then, you may wonder, to set me up for a lifetime of thinking I'm dying every couple of months?

Full House.

Full House happened.

I'm sure I'll probably talk about this on the podcast when we get to season 5, but it's definitely relevant now. On Michelle's 5th birthday (Flintstones themed, because why not?), Becky goes into labor. Jesse starts having what he thinks are "sympathy pains", but actually ends up being appendicitis.

Because of this episode, it doesn't matter how level-headed I am, if I get a pain on my lower right abdomen, the first thing that goes through my mind is appendicitis. 

Every. Single. Time.

In college, I was laying in bed and I suddenly started seeing purple dots moving on the ceiling, so naturally, I start freaking out thinking I'm schizophrenic (though to be fair, mental illness does run pretty heavily in my mom's family).

I've been thinking about my quasi-hypochondriac tendencies because I realized yesterday how ridiculous I am when something is off. 

I've been having cramps for the last few days. While this is normal for many women, that was the one symptom I was lucky enough to not have accompany my period. Well, I had cramps twice when I was a teenager, and both times they were so bad I couldn't walk, but still, it was only twice. These aren't nearly as bad, but I just feel terrible. It's mostly been on the left side, though they've moved over to behind my belly button a few times. The best way I can describe it is how portkey travel is described in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire -- like there's a hook inside pulling on my belly button. 

So while at first I'm like, oh, these cramps blow, when they didn't go away after two and a half days, my thoughts escalated. To one point I actually started thinking I was having an ectopic pregnancy. 

But that would require that I actually have the ability to get pregnant, and between my inability to ovulate and my periods coming every three weeks (almost like clockwork at this point), that's pretty much impossible. I've managed to talk myself down off that metaphorical ledge, but it's weird to finally realize just how ridiculous I can be.

At least I didn't go running to WebMD this time though. 

That never ends well.

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