The Pluralality of Hypochondria...

"Everyone thinks I'm a hypochondriac. It makes me sick."
- Felix Unger from "The Odd Couple" (1970)

Just a couple of days after returning from Europe I began to become ill. It reminded me of the head cold I get from time to time. I slept right when I got home from work at 5pm Friday until 5am Saturday when I had to go back to work. That whole day I had the worst chest pains and soreness. I think I slept wrong and was so tired I didn't wake up to move. The biggest mistake I made, however, was not sleeping on my side all night. It was letting my mother know about it.

She asked me if I was feeling better knowing that I was sick the previous day. I said that the illness seemed to have faded, but then my chest felt constricted and sore. She jumped into action. You see, my mom is what I call a Vicarious Hypochondriac. Basically, she is never ill. She could have a lung hanging out her nose and she'd go to work and come one and mow the lawn after. But if I so much as have the sniffles she calls the cast and crew of "Outbreak" to quarentine the area.

She told me I had "pluralality". I told her that's impossible, I'd have to be married at least once to have many wives. Apparently, she meant something other than what I thought...

She grabbed a whole bottle of Vitamin C's and dumped them into my hand. I think she was trying to give me Vitamin C poisioning. I told her 2 a day would suffice. Then she called my Grandpa, who apparenlty had "pluralality". Unfortunatly, the symptoms of the actual ailment (which is like pneumonia on the outside of your lungs) was extreemely similar to what I felt like. So, then she had the state of Utah praying for my body and buzzards flying overhead. I had to quell this. I reminded her that I was no longer insured and would not be until I returned to Hawaii. Having spent way to much money in Europe, I thought the pocket book issue would do the trick. It didn't. She remembered a free clinic that is open on Tuesdays. She talked me into going. An hour later, Grandpa called back to tell me not to play around and get it taken care of as it is a serious illness.

I am usually not given to freak out over small discomforts, but all of this death paranoia was starting to get to me. I'm mostly finnished with my will. I accept bribes now. You will get your money's worth in the future.

I also decided to write my own eulogy. Who else could do it any justice but me; myself? I think what I will do is perform it myself as well. Then fall into the open casket in a graceful swan dive and be barried right there on the spot. On second thought, open casket for a few minutes first. I want to hear any and all good things others may have to say. If I don't like it, I text message my lawyer to cancel the inheritance. Flawless. And then my mom can finally be vindicated in her vicarious hypochondria.

It's now Tuesday. I am fine.