Our lives may be fairly routine for stretches of time until the day or days when we sit nervously and fearfully by and wait for the results of a biopsy or a blood test or an MRI or some other medical test. Most annoying are the unexpected health events that crop up out of nowhere to plague us and cause us to be miserable and become whiny, complaining, and desperate. As a lifetime hypochondriac, I am used to worrying about each and every symptom, pain, twinge, suspected tingle, or funny looking thing on my skin. But ordinarily, for a true hypochondriac, the symptoms are merely transient and go away and nothing happens.
This past year, however, the Curmudgeonly Professor has been plagued with four unwelcome and unexpected medical events. First I had a pinched nerve in my neck that caused excruciating head aches on the left side of my head. My doctor told me he had recently had the same malady. I asked him how long it took for the stupid thing to go away. Two months, he said. And that is what it took.
Next, event number 2, I spent about four months suffering from chronic upset stomach, day and night, and complained and bellyached (a pun, ha) endlessly. The doctor told me to take probiotics, metamucil, and greek yogurt. None of that seemed to work but when I went to the hospital in May (event number 3), the stomach distress simply vanished, mostly.
Event number 3: I awoke at 2:00 a.m. the second night after we returned to Salt Lake from St. George and the room was spinning and would not stop spinning. I rode the bone-jarring ambulance to the hospital where I spent three miserable days listening to conflicting advice from conflicting doctors and waited all day the second day I was there before a doctor would come see me to tell me I simply had stress vertigo. I have struggled for three months to rewire myself and get back some walking balance and stability and feel good enough to do anything. All of this is extremely irritating since everyone else I know who has or has had vertigo gets over their little spinning events just like that.
So just as I am wearing off the effects of the vertigo (no more vertigo, thank heaven), then I wake up one night (event number 4) with stiff hands and fingers. Never having ever had a twinge of pain or arthritis, I am extremely annoyed and vexed over this unwelcome addition to the year's medical events. So now I see a doctor next week to whine about my sore hands and fingers.
All of this stuff is reminiscent of the wonderful Pickles (cartoon character) cartoon in which Opal asks Earl how is sniffles are. Worse, much worse, Earl opines. Then Earl says that he knows he has "terminal dropsy and adult galloping death syndrome" or some such. Opal then tells him to stop Googling his symptoms. Maybe I should follow Opal's advice.