hypochondriac musings
since i started watching house md i have been feeling not a little like a hypochondriac, with a little twitch here and a little stiffness there triggering thoughts of the possibility that i may have a rare disease that of course no hospital in this godforsaken metropolis will be able to cure or diagnose.
and while this fear can be dismissed as irrational or yet another manisfestation of my psychological bullshit damaged thing, every now and then i get this nagging feeling that a hospital bed and i are on a collision course.
why not? with my family having a history of the usual deadly diseases (diabetes, brain tumors, kidney problems, lung problems, parkinsons' disease, and heart problems on my mom's side and cancer, hypertension, and arthritis on my dad's side) i'm a prime candidate for dying young.
my mom has finally admitted she's diabetic, and my dad was recently diagnosed as hypertensive(hyper-tense, super tense). given my long standing love affair with sugar and meat and anything remotely anti south beach or anti atkins or anti nutritionist approved, as well as my tendency to be short with idiots who piss me off and never ending bouts of wakefulness, aren't i just a prime candidate?
and if there was ever a disease associated with klutziness or lack of coordination or athleticism, i'd be the lab rat of choice for them drug companies. i tend to trip while wearing flats or crash into tables, chairs, shelves, doors, lamps, and other inanimate objects whose only shortcoming was they were placed in places i pass by. and i tend to catch elbows with my chest or my face and heels with my feet.
my alcoholic consumption of late has been erratic, as is my tolerance of it. with food and a good night's sleep i can party pretty long into the night. with neither present, or even either missing, i either end up supremely dizzy or punished by my stomach. but i still believe i'm not a twelve step candidate, as i can pretty much spend part of the day without thinking of drinking. in my family though, emphysema-3, uncles and grandfathers-0.
i don't smoke, and i'm pretty much not into the herbal stuff or the creative pharmaceutical stuff, though i swear my lungs are dying of secondhand smoke and i think i get residual highs-lows ba? dunno- from when some of my friends start reliving woodstock and i really really wish i could take a pill that would make me not want to kill my friends when they go on pill overload. so i could still be in the future list of transplant need-ers.
but anyway. i'm just writing this cause in addition to feeling residual pain caused by my recent visits to the dentist, the lingering pain on the lower left side of my left leg caused by my slipping while walking in the rain last saturday, the bump in my head from when i crashed into the door, the weird shit phantom pain in my side i've had since forever (2002), and the bruise on my thigh and arms from my latest bouts with inanimate objects, i've been having really bad migraines that are totally ruining the rest of my summer.
differential diagnosis?
that's for the doctors to know and for me to be perpetually ignorant about. at least, til the day they prep me for my coffin.
and while this fear can be dismissed as irrational or yet another manisfestation of my psychological bullshit damaged thing, every now and then i get this nagging feeling that a hospital bed and i are on a collision course.
why not? with my family having a history of the usual deadly diseases (diabetes, brain tumors, kidney problems, lung problems, parkinsons' disease, and heart problems on my mom's side and cancer, hypertension, and arthritis on my dad's side) i'm a prime candidate for dying young.
my mom has finally admitted she's diabetic, and my dad was recently diagnosed as hypertensive(hyper-tense, super tense). given my long standing love affair with sugar and meat and anything remotely anti south beach or anti atkins or anti nutritionist approved, as well as my tendency to be short with idiots who piss me off and never ending bouts of wakefulness, aren't i just a prime candidate?
and if there was ever a disease associated with klutziness or lack of coordination or athleticism, i'd be the lab rat of choice for them drug companies. i tend to trip while wearing flats or crash into tables, chairs, shelves, doors, lamps, and other inanimate objects whose only shortcoming was they were placed in places i pass by. and i tend to catch elbows with my chest or my face and heels with my feet.
my alcoholic consumption of late has been erratic, as is my tolerance of it. with food and a good night's sleep i can party pretty long into the night. with neither present, or even either missing, i either end up supremely dizzy or punished by my stomach. but i still believe i'm not a twelve step candidate, as i can pretty much spend part of the day without thinking of drinking. in my family though, emphysema-3, uncles and grandfathers-0.
i don't smoke, and i'm pretty much not into the herbal stuff or the creative pharmaceutical stuff, though i swear my lungs are dying of secondhand smoke and i think i get residual highs-lows ba? dunno- from when some of my friends start reliving woodstock and i really really wish i could take a pill that would make me not want to kill my friends when they go on pill overload. so i could still be in the future list of transplant need-ers.
but anyway. i'm just writing this cause in addition to feeling residual pain caused by my recent visits to the dentist, the lingering pain on the lower left side of my left leg caused by my slipping while walking in the rain last saturday, the bump in my head from when i crashed into the door, the weird shit phantom pain in my side i've had since forever (2002), and the bruise on my thigh and arms from my latest bouts with inanimate objects, i've been having really bad migraines that are totally ruining the rest of my summer.
differential diagnosis?
that's for the doctors to know and for me to be perpetually ignorant about. at least, til the day they prep me for my coffin.
posted by peach at 2:59 AM
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