Living With Hypochondria (Or dying with it – either one.)

I have a very vivid memory from a year ago. I was at my parent’s house. At the time I “had” some horrible disease. I can’t remember which one. Probably a cancer. Anyways.

I had been complaining to my mom relentlessly about my “obvious” symptoms of said disease, but to no avail. She refused to mourn my imminent death with me, and instead was clinging to rational, actual facts. Which as you can imagine, was incredibly annoying.

At one point, she left the room for a few minutes, and returned with her laptop, opened, for me to read. Finally, I thought. She agrees! She has researched my disease and she finally gets it!

I sat the computer down, and my eyes rested on the site: “Symptoms of Hypochondria.”

It was actually an earth-shattering moment.

For once, I was right… I really did have a disease.

You might think it’s unbelievable, but here are a list of diseases that I have actually thought I have had, in the last – we’ll say – three months (by no means exhaustive). It is hard for even me to read this list without at least a side smile.

• brain tumor
• nasal polyps
• diabetes
• ovarian cancer
• bladder cancer
• leukemia
• thyroid disorder
• stomach tumor
• severe calcium deficiency
• adrenal fatigue
• massive dental cavities

My husband can probably think of 4-5 more. You would think that the sheer repetition of such horrors would eventually talk the most fearful person into reason. You thought you were dying of something else yesterday, remember? And other rational arguments.

But, alas, the paranoid mind is not so easily convinced. Because just thinking you have a disease doesn’t eliminate your chances of getting it! If only it were so easy!

But no. To the poor hypochondriac arm cramps are heart attacks, headaches are tumors, moles are skin cancer…and the list goes on.

Now, look. Here is usually the point where I usually say why I’m “smartter,” and how I’m getting better, and how you can get better, too. (assuming there is another poor soul out there, suffering miserably from a yet-to-be-diagnosed-sickness…anyone? anyone?)

Well, guess what. I cannot tell you, kindred soul, how to stop wondering if you have lung cancer because when you breathe in there is this funny rasping noise, just at the last 1/2 second of inhale, only when you are standing up.

I cannot tell you how to rest assured your retina is not detaching, although if you blink three times quickly there is a thin pale haze around your corner vision.

I cannot tell you that, no, it’s not weird that your toe tingles if you move it up and down, like this.

Because you know what? Those things perplex & terrify me, as well. I have no answers.

But I do have a vision.

When I was teaching seventh grade, I read Corrie ten Boom’s “The Hiding Place” with my students. I am 100% positive that I learned way more than any of them from this amazing book.

The tiniest little sentences still stick with me. The briefest of images, passing comments, tiny little details from her life continue to enter my thoughts day by day. Which is amazing, really. I’m not sitting here doing literary analysis all day. I wash dishes, fold t-shirts, and chop onions. And a dead old woman from Holland keeps inspiring me.

Today I was reminded of Corrie’s mother. She was the opposite, complete, of a hypochondriac.

How do I know this? I’ve mentioned this before, but Corrie’s mom had a stroke as her children were near-grown. She retained the ability to smile, say three words, and scribble with a pencil.

And she would sit in the window of their home, looking out the window, “loving people.” She would remember their birthdays, and scrawl them a card. She would smile, and pray, and love people.

My worst horror was her reality, and she lived a better life than I. She could have wondered,”How could I possible make a difference?” No one would have blamed her. No one would have argued.

Yet here I am, seven decades later and three continents over, inspired through the roof by a mute, handicapped homemaker. She loved, she was happy, and my, how she made a difference.

I’m left with nothing but amazement, and wishes, and a little glimmer of hope that the Gospel did it and could do it here, too.

*This post is linked to Intentional Blogger’s Fellowship Friday

 

 

 

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