WebMD is crack for hypochondriacs. More particularly, it's dangerous for a particular sort of hypochondriac. Like me. See, I don't sweat the big stuff.
When I was six, I thought my ruptured appendix was a mild stomachache. When I was 13, I fell headfirst off a galloping horse. I refused to see the nurse, got back on the horse, finished the lesson, and then went for a swim. Never mind I had double vision and nausea. My first concussion! How sweet. (Please note this is my only non-embarassing injury story...my second concussion involved falling off a barstool.) More recently, I went to work with a kidney infection. And then refused hospitalization on the grounds that, "people die in hospitals."
But any mild illness can make me run straight to WebMd to diagnose myself with something dire. Feeling a bit off? That's just the onset of dengue fever. I'll also have you know I'm on my fourth imaginary bout with Legionnaire's Disease, and that I'm an old hand at nonexistent scarlet fever. And, when I'm feeling a little Victorian, I come down with a case of the vapors. No disease is too exotic, too random, or too unlikely.
If I'm not sure what's wrong with me, it's just because I'm having a little trouble focusing. That's why I've used this handy test to diagnose myself with ADHD. Oh, except that I gave up halfway through. What? There was a shiny object distracting me.
But here's the self-diagnosis that's been eluding me for years: I hate talk radio of all kinds (yes, that includes NPR), and I have to really concentrate to talk on the phone. Conference calls make me twitchy. But I enjoy listening to music. I've figured out that I need to associate a face with a speaking voice, otherwise the whole thing feels disconnected and weird.
So, clearly this is some sort of cognitive deficiency. And I bet it's fatal. Months of Internet symptom searches have turned up nothing. So now, I turn to you, my readers. Diagnose me with something awesome! Or, invent a whole new syndrome and I'll tweak my symptoms accordingly.