One of My Biggest Fears

This is going to sound impossibly paradoxical, but one of my biggest fears these days is the fear of becoming a complete hypochondriac. To add to that paradox, I’m going to the doctor tomorrow and talk to him about it. I’m going to the doctor for other reasons too, of course. I would not be concerned about becoming a hypochondriac if I weren’t going to the doctor for some illness, and illness that in all likelihood is imagined. The specific reasons why I’m going to the doctor tomorrow are that I have been having some mild discomfort in the gallbladder area (I looked up its location on the Net), and I have a pea-sized lump in my groin. The mild discomfort is probably nothing more than a muscle strain, and the pea-sized lump is undoubtedly a harmless cyst. But put them together and use some anxiety-based inventiveness and you can come up with some kind of cancer. I know I did. I can imagine someone saying, “He had this little ache that he thought was nothing, but darn if it wasn’t cancer.”

Yeah, my biggest hypochondriacal fear is cancer. The cancer has got to be some fatal variety. Why fear a cancer that cannot take your life? If I have a headache that is something other than the standard frontal headache, I immediately think I have a brain tumor. I worry about cancer of the pancreas too. That’s generally fatal. To a lesser degree I have fears of liver, stomach, and bladder cancer. Any kind of pain, mild or severe, in the appropriate area, and I know it’s a sign of cancer of that region’s vital organ.

Another fear of mine is ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. I know I have ALS when an object accidentally drops out of my grasp. I figure I’m losing strength in my hands and that can only be ALS, or so I believe. Another thing that will do it is a few seconds of slurred speech. That’s another potential symptom of ALS. I ought to know, my hypochondria forced me to do the research.   

This hypochondria is pretty nasty in its own right. There are days when I do not have a bout with some imaginary affliction, but there are days when at various times I will swear I have two or three terminal illnesses. In the morning it might be stomach cancer. In the afternoon it’s a brain tumor. By that evening I’ve got the first symptoms of ALS. This is hard on me. It’s just not a lot of fun. Fortunately I have a sense of humor about it. I’m additionally fortunate that a sense of humor is not a symptom of a fatal disease; at least none I’ve been able to find. But I’m sure I’ll keep looking.