Hi my name is Michelle and I suffer from Hypochondria...
Alright, all of my family already know this and possibly some of my friends, but I am a true pussy when it comes to illness. I mean MOST normal people do not enjoy getting sick. Not only do I not enjoy being sick I hate it when anyone remotely near me or potentially near me is sick. If I have been around you and I find out you have come down with something shortly after we have had contact, I will spend the next week convincing myself that I surely contracted whatever E bola virus you have been stricken with. I feel a sense of doom usually reserved for people recently diagnosed with terminal illness. SERIOUS, SEVERE, GOD AWFUL, PIT IN THE STOMACH (first sign of stomach illness BTW) FEAR. It is debilitating.
I can tell you in all honesty that when I was 7 months pregnant with Noah I suddenly realized that this precious, untouched, germless baby was going to be born and someday would get sick and puke. PUKE, I said it, the one thing besides snakes that can send shivers down my spine. Any kind of puke. Virus puke, hangover puke, grossed out puke, I can not stand any of them. This realization sent me into a moment of panic. What the hell was I going to do? I certainly was not going to TOUCH the puke, therefore exposing myself to the toxic bacteria and viruses. For the short term I was able to push it into the back of my mind, along with the millions of other things that were too far in the future to worry about now. Silly silly me.
These days I can hold buckets up to the mouths of spewing toddlers, hell I have caught vomit in my bare hands to save my bedroom carpet. I can hose out basins and make a mean sick bed on the couch...see...
Not to say I love it...but I can do it. (Not for Dov though...that hangover shit is for bitches...suck it up bud) but the kids I can tolerate. Kind of...
Now my new problem is thinking that every fever, illness, headache, stiff neck, bruise, etc is either childhood cancer, Eastern Equine Encephalitis, or at the very least West Nile Virus. I can convince myself that a bruise has been there for a month when its been probably a week, and I can drive my husband mentally insane trying to convince him that I am right. Noah has had a headache for a few days...must be a brain tumor! Bella has a low grade fever and lethargy...must be leukemia! I seriously have taken years off my life researching normal, run of the mill, childhood illnesses and convincing myself they are dire. I know I have a problem which is very lucky for my pediatrician. If I let myself call the office every time I felt that old familiar panic creep up as I scoured the Internet, I would most definitely be a fired patient. I work it out on my own 98% of the time...but holy shit does it take it out of me. Noah has been sick since Monday and I have a knot in my neck the size of a baseball from the tension and stress...listening all night to the sounds coming from his bedroom, going in to check if his temp is too high, making sure he isn't having fever convulsions. I haven't slept in 4 days!
In conclusion I think Mommy is the one who needs to go to the doctor. The "special" doctor. For some xanax. Until then...wine will suffice.
I can tell you in all honesty that when I was 7 months pregnant with Noah I suddenly realized that this precious, untouched, germless baby was going to be born and someday would get sick and puke. PUKE, I said it, the one thing besides snakes that can send shivers down my spine. Any kind of puke. Virus puke, hangover puke, grossed out puke, I can not stand any of them. This realization sent me into a moment of panic. What the hell was I going to do? I certainly was not going to TOUCH the puke, therefore exposing myself to the toxic bacteria and viruses. For the short term I was able to push it into the back of my mind, along with the millions of other things that were too far in the future to worry about now. Silly silly me.
These days I can hold buckets up to the mouths of spewing toddlers, hell I have caught vomit in my bare hands to save my bedroom carpet. I can hose out basins and make a mean sick bed on the couch...see...
notice the "puke" bucket...GAG |
Not to say I love it...but I can do it. (Not for Dov though...that hangover shit is for bitches...suck it up bud) but the kids I can tolerate. Kind of...
Now my new problem is thinking that every fever, illness, headache, stiff neck, bruise, etc is either childhood cancer, Eastern Equine Encephalitis, or at the very least West Nile Virus. I can convince myself that a bruise has been there for a month when its been probably a week, and I can drive my husband mentally insane trying to convince him that I am right. Noah has had a headache for a few days...must be a brain tumor! Bella has a low grade fever and lethargy...must be leukemia! I seriously have taken years off my life researching normal, run of the mill, childhood illnesses and convincing myself they are dire. I know I have a problem which is very lucky for my pediatrician. If I let myself call the office every time I felt that old familiar panic creep up as I scoured the Internet, I would most definitely be a fired patient. I work it out on my own 98% of the time...but holy shit does it take it out of me. Noah has been sick since Monday and I have a knot in my neck the size of a baseball from the tension and stress...listening all night to the sounds coming from his bedroom, going in to check if his temp is too high, making sure he isn't having fever convulsions. I haven't slept in 4 days!
In conclusion I think Mommy is the one who needs to go to the doctor. The "special" doctor. For some xanax. Until then...wine will suffice.
Fever bugs...my dream come true...and so much easier then anal thermometers ...:) |
- There is not enough DEET in the world... mosquitoes will be the end of mankind.
- Tylenol is a fucking useless piece of shit medicine designed only to make your child instantly vomit. If you want true results use ibuprofen.
- Fever bugs are a neurotic mothers dream when it comes to checking your childs temp at 4 in the morning.
- I feel better now.
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