Tuesday 17 September 2013

Hypochondriac

I am a hypochondriac. A catastrophiser. A constant prophetess of my own doom and demise.
Every itch, or scratch, or ache; a sudden pain, and unexplained lump, a mole that looks fractionally bigger. My mind creates deathbed scenarios, tearful hospital scenes, shocking test results, hands held and tears squeezed out. I imagine huge obstacles to overcome during recovery; physio, hair regrowth, learning to write, recovering memory.
While my mind concerns itself with all the drama that could come with the most unlikely of scenarios- all the dangers that could be posed by a sneeze, or an itch, or a sudden sharp sting -my immune system works away and all is well.
All but the sickness where my brain cannot stop creating danger from the daily.

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