Dead Woman Walking

I have a doctor appointment in the morning. It is a physical. Which means, of course, I am dying.

As I have mentioned before, I am a practicing hypochondriac and this is what I do before any and all doctor appointments. But I am going because at the end of December, the government assistance program for COBRA will run out and if I remain unemployed I will have to move over to a catastrophic plan - one that carries a $5,000 deductible. So if I am going to require any life-saving surgeries or treatments, I need to have it over by Christmas.

So I am preparing myself. I have to say that it used to be much worse. I would work myself up into a non-functional frenzy a full month before any doctor appointment. The hair would stand on the back of my neck and I would obsess and pray like mad. It is a horrible and impossible way to live. And I did it for many years until a wonderful psychiatrist gave me a prescription for Celexa. I got on that miracle drug and returned to the world of the rational and sane. But I took myself off it a year ago and now I am thinking that at this doctor appointment, I should probably ask her to prescribe it to me again because I am feeling a little too afraid of what could be going on inside of me.

I suppose that there is some rationale for believing they could find something to be concerned about - in spite of the fact that I had to do a series of tests to change life insurance companies a couple of months ago and they accepted me. But currently, in addition to any form of female cancer, I expect to find heart disease and brain anyerism. Of course I know that while they may find something, it is unlikely that they will find all of it. In fact, while the possibility exists that I could have any number of things, what is more likely is that they will tell me to lose weight and exercise or I will get something. Still, I am idling in "the world of what if" and it is not a pleasant place to be.

By the way, in case you can't imagine it, "the world of what if" is the world where I die and somehow life goes on without me. And its been done. Just not by me. Yet. And in spite of the fact that I believe in heaven, I'm not in a hurry to leave this life just yet. And of course I have little control of the inevitable. And as a control freak...you get the idea.

So my head keeps telling me I'm okay. And it is also telling me that if I ever do have some problem it is better to know sooner than later. And it is also telling me that most things have treatments, and medicines, and cures even. And God keeps telling me that He is enough. For anything.

I sincerely hope that you don't stop reading this blog because you have decided that I am highly unstable. The fact is, there are many of us out there in your midst. Anxiety is a horrible disease. I am saying a blanket prayer for anyone who suffers from it. And perhaps you'll return the favor.

Note to self: Celexa.