It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I think, therefore I worry. I don't feel good, therefore I'm gonna die.
I went to get my annual physical recently. I went in as usual worried sick. Scared to death that the test results would return with some freaky numbers. I like most guys hesitate to go to the doctors. Those darn waiting rooms suck after all. Then again what's a doctor going to say or do to fix me?
Which hearkens back to a time in my mind when I would go for long periods of time before seeing a doctor. I was young, invincible. I wasn't turning my head and coughing for no one, unless Carmen Electra called. Superman syndrome. You know what I'm talkin about.
Now as things get slower for me to do. As I get achy. As I take longer to recover from injuries. As I can no longer eat the same things or drink the same way at my age. All these things make me worried. I'm not the same as I once was.
I wasn't ready for this. But here I am. So I go to the doctors thinking all is wrong. I ask questions, he asks questions, I cough...turns out everything is just fine. Well at least from the tests taken.
So I'm not a hypochondriac after all? Well losing several friends over the past year or so who are my age scares the hell out of me. I think about them often, so being a hypochondriac might just be normal. Hell when I sneeze I pneumonia comes to mind.
I've got a directive to change some things, so I need you to stop serving me bacon, samoas, and bacon. Thank you.