Living Proof

Suffering with anxiety disorder isn't easy. There are so many lovely accessories to go with it, like depression, self-medicating and doctors who are too lazy to treat their patients with effective therapy, writing a prescriptions all day and hoping for the best. Like me, not everyone can take antidepressants due to their many side effects. I have to opt for 'talk therapy' and what's perceived as "cognitive behavioral therapy", when it's only some guy who's heard probably 20 people before you whine about similar things just staring at you nodding or asking you, "So how do you feel about that?" I started reading books and articles online. I have learned so much from reading that by now, I should have a fricken degree. I have the type of anxiety whereas if I feel a tinge of pain in my jaw or left arm, I'm off to the hospital getting the works done: EKGs, blood tests, stress tests, you name it. If I experience swelling anywhere (like puffin...

The hypochondriac was a regular in the emergency room -- so much so that when he didn't show up for a week, the staff took notice of his absence. He finally did show up again, and one doctor said, "Long time, no see. Where have you been?" "Sorry I couldn't make it in," the hypochondriac said. "I was feeling sick." There are some people in my life who think all my medical issues, ailments and whatnot are ‘all in the head’ - that I’m a hypochondriac, and although that may very well be true, I still plan on engraving, “I TOLD YOU I WAS SICK” on my tombstone. For instance, one night I had chest pains. It felt like what everyone described it as: an elephant sitting on your chest. Then, the pain radiated down from my jaw (a known symptom) and straight down into my left arm. Of course this all seems to happen at midnight and Madelene hops into her jeans and carts me off to the ER. Being in a constant state of hypochondriacal alertness, needless to say ...