Nothing to see here, move along

What is the opposite of a hypochondriac?

Maybe it's because I'm getting older and things could be starting to go wrong with my body, or maybe I watch too many medical shows, or maybe there's just too much medical information out there for a regular person to deal with.....whatever the reason, I've turned into that person who doesn't go to the doctor because I don't want to know what's wrong.

It started a few years ago when I realized that my back had been hurting, badly, for months so I finally went to see the doctor and was convinced that he was going to tell me to stop being such a wuss but instead he sent me in for x-rays and mri's and next thing I know I'm diagnosed with a herniated disk.

I wasn't prepared for that. Or for the months of physical therapy and all the other crap that goes along with it. I'm like George Costanza on that episode of Seinfeld where the show "Jerry" has finally been picked up by NBC but George notices a white dot on his lip and reluctantly goes to the doctor and all he wants to hear is "That's nothing!" but instead they take a biopsy. All I want to hear is "That's nothing!"

But lately, it's always something.

This morning I forced myself to see my doctor after dealing with on-again-off-again symptoms (OK, I thought I had a urinary infection. I just don't like saying it.) What I WANTED to hear was "Oh, here's a prescription to clear that right up." but instead I heard "Hmmmm, no infection. We're going to take some blood and check some other things. Just lie low and drink clear liquids for now."

WTF?

I don't NEED any more scary medical stuff this year, thanks. The Red Cross took care of that earlier this year when they blackballed me for life. Right now I just want someone to give me some antibiotics and tell me to stop being such a wuss.

Freakiness runs in the family

A couple of blogs back I wrote about my son amusing a nurse while she took his x-ray by posing like he was in a police line-up. I have to admit that I think my son is pretty funny. He’s always doing goofy stuff (goofy verging on annoying but never really tipping over) and when people comment (as they invariably do) “Gee, I wonder where he gets it!” I say “So do I.”

Because I do.

Or I did.

And now I understand why no one ever believed me when I insisted “He’s nothing like me!”

Yesterday I went to the chiropractor. I have two herniated disks and am trying everything possible to avoid surgery (magic? witch doctor? they’re next) and had spent a week in pretty bad pain. He made me walk down the hall and back, then “adjusted” me and had me walk down the hall again.

“You’re moving your whole body now,” he said. Apparently I’d been walking incorrectly to accommodate the back pain.

He grabbed my arms and moved them back and forth. “You need to walk like this.”

And I started giggling.

The Doctor stood there (somewhat) patiently with his hands on my shoulders while I tried to pull myself together.

“I’m like that woman from Seinfeld!” I said, and giggled again. He didn’t say anything so I continued “You know. She didn’t move her arms when she walked!”

Oh. My. God.

My son is doomed.