Saturday, February 13, 2010

À Votre Santé


I guess I could say I am known for being a hypochondriac.

This dates back to when I was a child. When I was younger, I was forbidden to watch classic familiar television shows such as "Touched by an Angel" and "Dr. Quinn," not because of adult images or for foul language, but because they showed these people with serious ailments, which would in turn cause me to stay up all night crying in my sleep. I was afraid of contracting necrotizing fasciitis (flesh eating disease), elephantitis, and leukemia.

For the average person, shedding hair during the summer was normal. However, for me, it was an omen. It was summer of 1991 when I first noted that I might be critically ill. I was taking a bath and noted that I was losing a substantial amount of my artificially colored locks. My first instinct was that I had cancer. At this time, I believe I had just watched something on television about a girl who got leukemia. I remembered how she lost her hair, but I didn't understand that she lost her hair because of her chemo treatments. I just assumed it was because of the cancer. I immediately informed my sister that I was dying of leukemia, which I pronounced as luke-mia. My sister, who usually would go along with such crazy thoughts informed me that I was ridiculous and then explained chemo therapy to me. She then informed me that I probably had mange. In Italy, stray dogs with patches of missing hair exposed their flesh frolicked around our neighborhood just the same as pigeons trot around Bordeaux. I was six years old when I learned about mange. My sister told me that it was in fact possible to contract this just by touching one of the dogs. I scanned through all the different events that had happened in the last week and remembered that I did in fact accidentally pet one of them.

The only way to retain the remaining hairs on my head was by using half a bottle of conditioner to glue the rest of the hairs in place to my scalp.

After my treatment, I sat in the living room and enjoyed the company of my mother's best friend. She began playing with my golden waves and informed me that I had very beautiful hair. I then retorted very matter of factly that, "I have mange."

I have never seen such disgust on a lady's face until this moment.

Thanks to webmd, I no longer have to rely on my sister's misinformation and thanks to the loss of my computer, I am no longer freaking out about anything and everything that could possibly be wrong with me while I obsessively scan this dangerous search engine- complete with symptom checker.

However it wasn't until last night at dinner with some friends, that I realized how abnormal my health is. My roommate Nadia and I openly discuss our health issues after, so it seemed quite ok as we sat at the dinner table talking about our recent visits at the doctor. The conversation changed from health care-doctors visits-vaccinations-strange bug bites-health ailments-awkward within a matter of 30 minutes.

Nadia and I began making comparisons between our health ailments.
I have eczema, so does Nadia.
I have scoliosis, Nadia has what we think is arthritis.
I have acid reflux disease, Nadia has an ulcer.
I have a heart murmer, Nadia has cardiac arrhythmia.

I imagine this is a typical and appropriate dinner topic for 85 year olds, but not twenty-something ladies. I mean it felt normal for me to talk about this. I guess I am completely shameless about somethings, particularly with health problems. Our two friends were so puzzled and could not understand why we have so many problems at our age.

"What did you eat when you were younger?!" was the only thing that one of our friends could respond to after we threw our health conditions out on the table.

"While we are on the topic of eating, is it normal to feel cold after eating?" I asked.
"Generally, your body temperature increases after eating," someone replied.
"hmm... maybe I should get my insulin checked," I said.

This made me think of Kiki the diabetic cat I met on my train last weekend who was drooling because it was time for her to have her insulin shot. Maybe that was a hint.

I am thankful to be living in a country where health care is accessible to everyone- health obsessed or not. It enables me to be even more health enlightened.

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