I’m neurotic.
That word is an understatement for me. It’s like saying a porn star is “kind of” into having sex. That level of understatement.
It’s funny most of the time. Because sometimes I wonder if I could be any more of a Jew if I tried. I love hanging out with my Mom, I have a big nose, I completely and totally relate to Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld. Most importantly, though…
I’m a gigantic hypochondriac.
I can’t just be sick when I’m sick…I’m dying. I’m dying of a disease they haven’t heard of yet. Anything to me is a sign of some gigantic symptom the doctor’s missed my whole life. Malaria. Maybe polio came back. Who knows. I probably have it if I get a runny nose.
Sometimes I’ll call my Mom or brother and this is how the conversation will go.
Mom: “So what’s new, bub?”
Drew: “Not too much. I’ve been kind of tired lately. I don’t know, it weirds me out a little. I started having this weird chest pain…which may be because i’m not sleeping. I don’t know. I think it’s from Advil. I read the warnings and it could have something to do with that. My arm hurts lately, too.”
Mom: “I meant ‘how are you’ in a more…not crazy way. As in how’s work. Or have you seen any movies lately. And it’s Advil, Drew. Nobody dies from Advil.”
Drew: “Actually, I looked it up. They have. Did you know you can OD on Advil? Oh, and I saw The Lovely Bones. That movie is shit. Don’t watch it. How are you doing?”
This is pretty much a conversation from a Tuesday. Like, any Tuesday. Pick a Tuesday. I’m dying then.
Living alone, when you talk to people less…it’s got me thinking about how neurotic I am when no one is looking. All of the sudden, I turned up the dial on “batshit crazy” because no one can tell me when they come home, “Hey Drew, stop acting batshit crazy.” To this point, I started making mental note of things I think I’m probably slowly dying of or what chronic disease I have that will never go away.
- I fully believe I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Why, you ask? Because my thumb hurts lately. I stretch it awkwardly during the day. It’s probably because I’m going to lose my hand and will never be able to write again. What’s even more ironic is writing about the fact that you have Carpal Tunnel, a disease caused by writing too much. Hey irony, come in. I made you dinner. If you don’t believe I’m actually neurotic enough to think I have Carpal Tunnel, please see the photo below of a product I bought, and wear every night lately.
I like that it’s energizing. Like, what? What does that even mean? Anyways, my hand is going to fall off. I’m not even questioning if I have Carpal Tunnel. See a doctor? Of course not. Would you call a doctor to talk about having this disease even if you had it? No. That’s embarassing. I’d rather get tested for STD’s. If it’s not Carp Tun it’s MS. Because that is (obviously) the only other thing that could cause my symptoms. Obviously, I’m hoping for the Carp.
- I think I have ruined my stomach by taking Advil. I take too much Advil. Because of this, both my liver and stomach are slowly deteriorating and I’m dying. I’d stop, but at this point why bother, the damage is already done. It would never have to do with poor eating habits or the fact that sometimes people get heartburn. Instead, I’m sure that it’s a larger case of “I’m dying” caused by ibuprofen. I’m not joking, I actually have said out loud “I think it’s because I take too much Advil.” Which, yeah, I’m fairly sure is impossible. But I’d rather go with my gut. HEY oh!
- I have two cysts in my arm that, as has been explained to me by family, are just things many of my family has had a history of and are benign. A doctor even told me they are in no way problematic one time. However, I irrationally believe they are growing. They are probably cancerous and it’s certain that one day I’ll wake up and my arm won’t work up. Instead of, again, doing something about this, I plan on waiting until the arm falls off, at which point I will use my other arm to call my Mother to say, “I TOLD YOU SO. I TOLD YOU SO.” I feel confident in the strategy.
- I stubbed my toe bad when I was a kid. Pretty sure I broke it. To this day, when it rains, my foot hurts. While this could just be because I probably broke the bone and it didn’t set right (it’s my pinky toe, if you want to up the ridiculous factor), I’m pretty sure it’s because I have gangreen and one day I’m going to wake up and my whole foot will be black. At this point, I will realize that I never broke the toe after all and I will be a glass half person and be excited about that. Then my foot will fall off. Because I have gangreen.
- Every time my back hurts and I then get a headache, I am positive I have meningitis because I read some thing about meningitis sometime. I can’t even tell you anything about meningitis. I probably have some form of it that won’t present itself until I get a headache. So essentially, if I have a headache, that’s because I have meningitis.
I could probably go on for hours. I just got a headache (seriously), so that’s probably just the meningitis acting up. Writing this has also caused my arm to hurt a bit (the carp tun, obvi), so I should probably put my brace on. Believe me, it’s difficult being me.
So if you want to hang out, I suggest we do it soon. Seriously, hurry up. I’m dying. All the time.
Rocket Shoes Mixtape 28: Hurry Up, I’m Dying.
Stream the whole thing above.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Don’t worry. Every time I have a headache, I am fucking convinced I have a brain tumor.
I’m not a hypochondriac. I just watch too much Grey’s Anatomy. So, I blame ABC. And brain tumors. And headaches. And well, alcohol.
I thought Rule #1 was: Don't die.
Not two hours ago I told a story that started, "My friend Drew is — well, he's half Jewish and really embraces it. Meaning he's a total neurotic hypochondriac…"
And then I came home and saw this post. If it were possible to love you any more, I would.
In other news, I really hope that the arm with the cysts is the same one that also has the hand with the carp. Because I care about you and want the best for you.
p.s. I know YOU know this but just in case someone else is reading it, clearly by "love," I mean "tolerate."
I read this on Saturday, and immediately forwarded it to my hypochondriac boyfriend, who also "has" MS (but he "has" Parkinson's as well, so THERE!) – have faith though…he has "had" several types of cancer (stomach, brain, finger) in the last few years, and they have all cleared up on their own! Every one! Most of his diseases seem to go away all by themselves when he either has a really good day or discovers another disease that matches his "symptoms."
I have always been convinced a braintumor is the cause of my despressions. Obviously it's not my perfect child hood or my fucking easy-breazy-life. My Husband agrees there's something really wrong in my head, although i don't think that counts as a second opinion because a. he's not a doctor and b. a doctor never actually confirmed my theory. I'm glad i'm not neurotic like you though,or dellusional. Please don't die
Hi Drew,
Adam pointed me to your blog with high regards and I am glad he did. Your story brought up my concern over "silent heart attacks." Sorry if this might be the worst thing to mention to a hypochondro but I was really concerned for awhile over this, the worst thing is that the whole point is you don't know that they are happening. That is, a symptom of a silent heart attack is not having any symptoms! Actually, though, facing this sort of symptomless attack worry might be just the sort of headtrip to take away the hypo and become just a plain old chondriac.
Don’t worry, it’s just life. No big deal. By the time you’re 60 it won’t matter so much and you’ll just be sorry for all the time you’ve wasted worrying about it. Who knows how you will die, but rest assured that you will eventually die and it will all be over with. Try to enjoy the time you have. Remember that 90% of the stuff we worry about never happens and the other 10% cannot be changed.
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