Wednesday, August 11, 2010

How I Handle My Hypochondria


Like a lot of people, I have issues controlling myself when I think something is wrong with me. Headache? I have brain cancer. Stomach ache? My liver is failing. Diarrhea? Anal tumors. I'm dying. I'm dying right now.

But there are the few times in my life when I really know that something is seriously wrong. As far back as I can remember, I've had weird, random pains in my heart. Not around my heart, in my heart. I know this. It's my heart. I've had it for eighteen years. I know where it is because it does that beating thing every so often and I can sometimes feel it. I feel pains in my heart. It's weird. Sometimes it's linked directly to when I get emotionally hurt by someone, but most of the time, it's just random heart pain.

So, one time, my mum and I took a visit to one of the better Emergency Rooms in the area. They're usually pretty good about not killing people.

First off, after the incredibly long wait (which I don't ever mind about ERs, as there are way more important problems than mine - one lady who was there, who mum and I actually got to know quite well, was 6 months pregnant and fell down a few stairs and was worried about her baby. I wanted her to go first but they called me up first and I felt bad.) the nurse who called me in pronounced my name completely, entirely wrong. I don't even know how this woman could have possibly pronounced it so wrong. She did not butcher my name. She destroyed my name.

My name is, has been, and always will be Sarah. S, A, R, A, H.

This woman pronounced it Zarwhuah. Zarh. Whuh. Ah.

I don't even know how she could have gotten Zarwhuah out of a simple, American five-letter name. She wasn't from some weird country where everything is backwards and toilets are on the ceiling. She didn't have a weird accent. Hell, she didn't even have a weird skin tone.

But, whatever. I was called in, I had to take what I could get. I get in the room, get checked out by a doctor, they tell me I have to have an EKG. That's where they stick sticky pads all over your chest and stomach and monitor your heart and tell you if you're going to die or not. At this point, I'm having trouble breathing, but only because when I breathe too deep, the pain in my heart gets worse. It's not a problem with my lungs at all. I feel the need to make this very, very known to you now.

I told them "well my heart hurts so bad that when I breathe deep, the pain gets worse, and feels really stabby." What they apparently heard was "I can't breathe and shit is wrong with my lungs, lol."

They do the EKG and the doctor is all "your heart is acting mostly normal but it looks a little strange" and I was like "well what is wrong with me?" and the doctor was all "lol jk, I don't know now go home and don't breathe too much, kthxbai"

That was two years ago. When I die of a heart attack at the age of 25, I know who I'm haunting.

And that's how I deal with my brain cancer/liver failure/anal tumors.

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