Tag Archives: Illness

Am I a Hypochondriac?

Am I a hypochondriac? Probably not. But I’m always asking myself this question after a protracted illness. That may have something to do with my definition of a protracted illness. This amounts to anything more than 3 sneezes and 24 hours in bed. I tend to be hard on myself and view giving up and going to bed as a personal failing. Part of this is because once I do go there I don’t want to get up. Lounging in the boudoir is a comfortable lifestyle for a time but not a good life long habit.

 Hypochondria is a way of giving oneself, time and time again, a fresh start. It is a structuring principle masquerading as chaos, resolve disguised as fear, a way of appearing on the stage of your own life as if in a costume of a new character, in a scene you have scripted yourself. The Hypochondriacs – Nine Tormented Lives, Brian Dillon

Perhaps I am comedic hypochondriac. I take a gloomy view of my rebellious body and its assorted indignities, turn it on on end and laugh at the whole thing. I mean really. The most important moments of our lives; conception, birth, sex, giving birth,  illness and death are all accomplished with a great deal of grunting, screeching and moaning. Just in general an embarrassing assortment of animalistic behaviors that make me want to hide in a closet. Well I haven’t tried sex in a closet so even that place of  imagined security is not inviolate yet.

Hiding in the closet itself could invoke a whole new set of adventures in this house. Since the great bathroom reconstruction of 2011, our closets have taken to collapsing with enough noise to wake the dead. Or even me after I’ve taken my nite nite sleepy pill. My theory is that all the sledge hammering on the adjacent walls weakened the ancient support structures in the closets. It forces us to break down and clean out and reassemble the closets. So this is a good thing.

Anyway, I strayed from the hypochondria topic. All in all I don’t think I am one, I just got all morbid and morose from being sick for a week an a half. I’m reasonably sure I coughed the greater part of my brains out. And am extremely glad to know that, contrary to out dated beliefs about brain cells, I do not have a finite number of them and they will regenerate. So this morning I’m sitting outside sitting outside taking some fresh air and sunshine, grateful to be alive and approaching wellness. The journey on my way back to the land of the living.

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