We all have our neurotic health moments. That being said, I will continue without embarrassment. Though I’m certain when I edit this post before publishing, the delete button AND the ‘you are such a freak’ button are certain to utilized.
For the last few months, I’ve been experiencing jaw pain. I guess I never realized the extent of the jaw pain until a masseuse stated how tight my jaw actually was. Of course there was the sly comment, “is there something you’re not saying?” My response was a forced smile. What I really wanted to say was, “shut the fuck up and continue the massage.” But that would have been angry, thus defeating the whole purpose of the massage.
Fast forward to a few days ago. Yes, my jaw was still tight; a petty annoyance more than anything. My wife came home from the store and proceeded to tell me about some dude that she hadn’t seen in awhile. Apparently, this dude’s wife had jaw pain AND it turned out to be a brain aneurysm. THE SIZE OF A DIME, NO LESS. * So you can only imagine where that went and how it escalated. Yes, I called my doctor, babbling on to the receptionist about how my wife convinced me that I had an aneurysm. Other minor issues that would’ve never warranted a doctor’s appointment had happened intermittently. I’m getting old, for Pete’s sake. According to a snot-nosed – but nice guy – technician I used to work with, I am half-way to dead. These things happen. But when these ‘minor issues’ are combined WITH the jaw pain … it has to be a brain aneurysm, right? And don’t even get me started about goggling health issues.
I was happy the appointment was the next day. Otherwise, I would have cancelled. By the way, my doctor and his staff are awesome. They have to be to deal with freaks like me. But, let me remind you, I’m usually not this neurotic.
Upon arrival, I apologized and brought a cupcake for the receptionist and nurse. I tormented them with my rambling – they deserved something. At least I’m a nice freak, eh?
Well, the good news is I don’t have an aneurysm. At one point in my conversation with the doctor we joked that everything here in Northern Michigan is a result of either allergies or anxiety. Mine, of course, is allergy mediated. Why would anyone think anything else? Now is probably a good time to reference an excerpt from my novel when it truly wasn’t an allergy attack. I was delusional then.
My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir excerpt
*Just wanted to qualify – I am not discounting what this man and his wife are going through by any means. I am completely empathetic to their situation.
