Friday, 25 January 2019
Reading time 02 minutes 48 seconds
“After obsessively Googling symptoms for 4 hours, I discovered ‘obsessively Googling symptoms’ is a symptom of hypochondria.” – Stephen Colbert
I have a hypochondriac friend who, like me, is afflicted by anxiety over the slightest of ills. There have been times when we have independently diagnosed ourselves with incurable diseases, discovered we have been googling the same thing at the same time, and both arrived at the same conclusion. Imminent death!
It’s been going on for several years and has gone from the serious to the ridiculous. Mostly it is a source of laughter although not for our loved ones. My buddy’s funniest example was when he discovered blood in his pooh, he freaked out and paid for several doctors to poke around his rectum. He survived, and he was told next time not to eat so much Beetroot.
Mine was the collapse of my mind.
I was hanging the washing in the garden and a pair of my girlfriend’s knickers fell. Instantly I expertly kicked them up into the air and caught them on my head like a Bold advert version of Lionel Messi. I air punched my success, looked around to see if any neighbours had noticed my cool move, then finished my task and popped to my local high street still smiling to myself. Whilst walking back home, still feeling oozing confidence I combed my hand through my hair and felt the underwear on my head.
Aside from explaining the weird looks in the shops it could only mean one thing, early onset dementia.
The same day the car wasn’t where I normally parked it although I was sure I had left it there. Maybe I had started drink driving and was unaware where I left it? This was doubtful as I could barely walk after two pints let alone operate complex machinery. I reckoned that the car had been confiscated to protect my own, and the public’s, safety although I had no recollection of this happening. This terrible disease had clearly dug it’s claws in and my brain neurons were collapsing. I was so scared I checked my scalp for knickers just in case.
The friends and family I contacted didn’t have the car. I called my girlfriend at work and she reminded me that she couldn’t drive. Wow my brain really was folding in on itself. I scoured my entire neighbourhood for over two hours but my mind was so occupied with fear that I had to walk up and down the streets two or three times and eventually trudged home sad and scared with no car and no memory.
I called my friends back and explained that I still couldn’t remember where I’d left the car. I went on to tell them that I loved them all, but I had dementia and this was probably the last time we would speak. A few were understanding but most laughed at my sorrowful little voice and told me that I was over reacting and that my car had probably been stolen.
The police found my car the next day.
I phoned my fellow beetroot loving sufferer and explained the situation and I was expecting, and wanting, him to say “we can’t go on like this Willsy” but he didn’t help and backed up my theory of dementia and suggested I should get checked out just in case.
I went to the Doctor fearing the worst but after a 1-minute examination he told me I was a hypochondriac.
I knew something was wrong with me!
Picture: I’ve replaced the normal picture of myself with something almost as lovely. This was the sunrise I witnessed from home yesterday.