If someone asked me to name the scene a movie that most resonated with me, this would be it. My name is Bob and I am a hypochondriac. My gravestone will read, “I told you I was sick.”
So of course the fact that I was suffering from pain and bloating over the weekend, and that the NP thought I needed a CT scan to check for an obstruction sent me on a wild spiral of anxiety. Nevermind that I’ve had all the symptoms before and it proved to be nothing more than constipation, I convinced myself that I had a huge tumor lurking in my intestines and that I should stop buying green bananas.
At one time in my life hypochondria almost took over my life. Every little lump or sore was a death sentence that I would obsess over relentlessly. I obsessed over the possibility that I was insane because I was obsessing so much. Finally I went to a shrink and he put me on Celexa, an anti-anxiety and anti-depression medication. I got almost instant relief. I probably started dangerously ignoring symptoms. But alas the drug had some unpleasant side effects. Imagine that. So a few months ago I decided to wean myself off of it, which I did over a period of a couple of months. Until now the I’ve not been obsessing about my health. But Crohn’s and gut problems always get me worked up so I was spinning down the rabbit hole of paranoia for a few days.
The scan came back clean. You might have seen me skipping down 4th Avenue yesterday afternoon.
