Sometimes I loathe the internet. I really do.
As I’ve noted multiple times on this site, I’m a major hypochondriac. Like, major. Nothing is merely a cold or merely an ache. It’s always a life-threatening disease. MS. ALS. Parkinson’s. Cancer. I’d say over the course of the past, oh, 15 years I convinced myself I was dying at least 20 times. Like, imminently.
Over the past few days, my right thumb has been twitching. It’s annoying, and irksome, and comes and goes. I’ve tried ignoring it, but can’t. I’ve tried pooh-poohing it, but can’t, either. The twitch arrives when I wake up, sticks around, leaves, comes back, leaves again, returns. Maybe it’s carpal tunnel. Maybe it’s stress. Hell, maybe it is parkinson’s. Whatever the case, I’m not doctor …
… but, thanks to the internet, I can pretend I’m one. So, even though I know it’s a bad idea, I Google “twitching and thumb.” Then, inevitably, I land on Parkinson’s, MS, ALS, etc. This results in the start of my own obituary, as I sit here in a Starbucks, listening to a new song by the Cars (Sidenote question: Save for the media, does anyone care about the return of the Cars? I disliked them in 1984, I dislike them now).
Man, it’s hard to break out of a pattern. Really hard.
PS: Actually my own advice: I’m a hypo. I need to remind myself of this—always. I’ve been down this road before … 1,000 times. I always think I’m doomed. Always. So shut the fuck up and live. Dammit.