A Stroll Down "Insanity Lane"

For those of you who have been with me for awhile, this will come as no surprise - but I suffer terribly, if not comically, from full scale hypochondria. I thought I would share - since I have nothing but time on my hands of late - the most recent in entertaining episodes, where I sweat bullets and everyone else laughs.

You should know that I usually tell people, light-heartedly - all about my terminal illness du jour - primarily so I can see the quizzical look come over them as if to say "are you crazy??" And for the record, yes. Yes I am. But their looks soothe me. My older sister Linda is on call for the most serious of anxiety attacks. I will call her and ask her "I'm not dying, am I?" And she will say. "No, Valri. You are not dying." And I will accept that for a few hours - as if it were a word from God. But then it comes back and I go through this exercise over and over until I pay large sums of money to a doctor so he will tell me I am an idiot.

So anyway, a few months ago, when I went to a dermatologist to look at a black toenail (is it cancer? no it is an injured toe), I showed him a little something on my shoulder. "Ah", says he, "that's a little pre-cancerous thing. I'll just freeze that off now". And so he did. Gone. The end. BUT - it opened up a whole new area of insanity for me: melanoma. Now in truth, because of my fair skin and light eyes, I am at higher risk - which he also told me (he had no idea the can of worms he opened). Now I am aware of everything. And a couple of weeks ago I found a smallish bump on the top of my scalp. And it is not smooth. And immediately, I have something terrible.

Now it is also important to tell you that I get embarrassed by my hypochondrical episodes, so I often put off the doctor because I know that I am a freak. But I was due to go in to have him look once again at my toe (nail came off) and give me a once over. So I walk in - my head vibrating with anxiety. The nurse takes me back. "How are you today?", she asks. "I'm good!" I respond with a manufactured chirp in my voice. "And why are you here today?", she asks. I fight the urge to say "because I am probably dying" and instead say the more rational "for follow up and I have a little something I want him to look at". Once said, I search her face for a look of concern. Nothing. She hears this 500 times a day. Doctor comes in. I read nothing in his face. Clearly he cannot see anything wrong with me at first glance. Good. I show him my toe. Toe looks great. Shoulder - shoulder looks great and then I say: "You know, I found something I want you to take a look at. It's on my head and I'm sure its nothing but I just want to confirm it with you." I have totally lied. I am fully petrified. My neck has turned red and I am breaking out into a sweat. He looks at it and feels it and I get ready to hear "Hmmmmm. That doesn't look so good. How long have you had this? Why haven't you come in before? I'm going to have to do a little procedure here and we'll send it out for a biopsy. Have you been having any headaches?" "Yes" I imagine myself saying. "Hmmmmm", he replies in my mind. Then he begins talking in a language I don't understand to his nurse, and leaves the room and comes back in with the number to a specialist and tells me that he has made a call and I am to go straight to the specialist for a consult. And then, in my imagination, I wet myself and then I faint.

But that is not how it went. Instead, he looked at it and he felt it and then he said: "That is an age spot. I can remove it if it bothers you."

"Yes. please", I said. And I was happy. Until I realize that he said age spot. And then I am not happy. Because I do not want to hear I have age spots. They have to do with aging. But a spot beats a tumor so I am okay.

Next, I have been getting headaches. Likely attributable to the fact that my neck feels like a rock and that I grind my teeth as often as I breathe. But lately, the headaches are on the right side. And my right eye feels "heavy". I am constantly aware of it. Like something is inside of it. No pain - just heavy awareness. I do have dry eye - so I am pouring drops into my eyes and there is some relief, but still. These headaches. And this heavy, bloated-feeling right eye. To the opthamologist I go. Because you know what it is. Of course! Let's all say it together. Brain tumor! Behind the right eye, pressing on the optical nerve and creating pressure and headache. Likely inoperable.

Now because I am recently unemployed again, my stress level is higher and so Prince Bob accompanies me to the doctor just in case I need him there to pick me up from the floor when I get the results. Texting friends, I am getting prayer support. And I myself am praying. And I hear a small voice telling me "You are out of your stupid mind". But I press on with my anxiety.

The appointment takes forever. All sorts of tests. Every note a technician takes is a "secret" they will reveal only to the doctor so he can tell me the bad news himself. They dilate my pupils. They blow air in my eyes. They numb my eyes. They put drops in my eyes. They ask questions. They test my vision. My prescription. Two technicians and one doctor see me. And finally, the diagnosis: I need a new prescription. I need better drops for my dry eye. And then I am given the number for a specialist. I will need a surgery. To fix my right eyelid which is sagging and drooping significantly enough over my eye to make it feel heavy. A cosmetic surgery that can repair eyelid sagging brought on aging. Otherwise, eyes are completely heathy. I am happy.

For now.