A Hypochondriac Story

Hypochondria is a chronic mental illness that I and many others suffer from. A hypochondriac is someone who is abnormally concerned with their health. You could say they have an obsession with the idea of having a serious medical condition. One who suffers from this seemingly ludicrous mental illness experiences intense fear about having a major health condition and fixates on minor symptoms, believing they might be a sign of something life-threatening. The life of a hypochondriac can be very challenging and it’s very important to learn how to cope with hypochondria.

Hypochondria didn’t come to sit on my shoulder and feed me worried, irrational ideas until after I experienced traumatic health conditions as a child. It was a little later in life, as I approached adulthood, when my brain more fully processed the negative emotions caused by Generalized Anxiety Disorder and spinal fusion surgery.

The ingredients that combined nature and nurture inside of little me aligned in such a way that they cooked up a young adult with Hypochondria. In whatever way my brain processed my childhood experiences within the health department, the result added two bickering voices that like to whisper into each of my ears. Please enjoy these hypochondriac stories.

Logic sits on my left shoulder. Hypochondria sits on the right.

Logic has her hair up in a tidy top knot. Her legs are crossed, shoulders lowered, chin up, and hands folded in her lap. She lounges in a sunny spot, soaking in vitamin D, and is certainly not worrying about a thing. She has no time for bullshit, and her confidence radiates outward.

Hypochondria, on the other hand, is stooped. Her eyes hide behind shaggy hair. She has a nervous twitch, and though she attempts to relax under the sun, her shoulders are rigid and her beady eyes are alert and searching. She can sense impending doom as easily as Logic can make decisions.

Logic and Hypochondria have opposing roles to play, and they are always butting heads. They are called to attention anytime their host, me, feels discomfort that could indicate a serious health condition.

I am planting outside beneath ultraviolet rays when a headache comes on suddenly. Planting mums isn’t so relaxing anymore now that a dull pounding vibrates the inside of my skull.

“Did… did you feel that?” Hypochondria stutters into my right ear as a throb drums through my head, distracting me from the dirt and roots.

A moment passes and then another throb makes me rub my temples.

“What could this mean?” Hypochondria shivers. “This isn’t the normal stress headache that feels like a rubber band has wrapped around our brain. This is different.”

“Enough.” Logic’s voice cracks like a whip into my left ear. She peers over her shades and sits up from her chaise lounge, scrunching her nose down at Hypochondria.

“It could be an aneurysm. Or perhaps a tum—”

“Don’t! Do not say it.” Logic removes her shades and rolls her eyes up to the sky. “Put your gooey emotions away; they are disgusting me. Let’s instead use logic.” She bats her long lashes before continuing.

“Please show me the proof you have unearthed that gives you reason to believe we are having an aneurysm.” She spits the last word at Hypochondria, making her flinch.

“I… uhh… it’s uhh… a different kind of pain…”

“Ohh!!! Thank you, sweetheart, for reminding me! It’s different! So it must be an aneurysm or tumor! It couldn’t possibly be a simple headache or the familiar neck pain that is radiating mildly into the skull.” Logic’s heavy sarcasm forces Hypochondria to sink lower in her seat. “For heaven’s sake. If that’s all the proof you have, I’m returning to my sunbathing.”

Hypochondria breathes a sigh of relief. If Logic isn’t worried, then everything is probably okay.

I rub my temples one last time and then return my attention to the soil that will be the home to my beautiful mums.

*       *       *

It’s a quiet evening on the couch. A Disney movie is playing, I’m wearing a comfy sweatshirt, and I couldn’t feel more at ease. I yawn as a fresh wave of sleepy washes in, but then all at once, I am alert. The yawn wasn’t deep enough, therefore, I am not getting enough air.

“Oh no.” Hypochondria looks side-to-side as if searching for an answer.

I will myself to yawn twice more, but both times I do not feel like I inhaled the full capacity of my lungs.

“We’re not getting enough air.” Hypochondria shakes in fear.

“I’m sorry, what?” Snaps Logic, lacking patience.

“We can’t take a full deep breath.”

“Relax your shoulders, honey. Unclench your jaw. Try that deep breath again.” Logic tries, hoping Hypochondria’s worried state will pass quickly so she can get on with relaxing.

“Okay, it worked this time. We got a full deep breath.” Hypochondria declares.

But since Hypochondria mentioned it, I can’t stop fixating on the breath. It still feels like I am short on air even when I take five breaths that completely expand my lungs. I keep sucking in more air, yawning to deepen my breath.

“You’re still worrying, aren’t you?” Logic asks.

“Why does it still feel like we aren’t getting enough air? Do we have a lung problem? Or maybe a heart issue? Do you think our lungs are getting crushed in a certain way that prevents them from fully expanding?” Hypochondria squirms as she speaks.

“Hypochondria, when is the last time this happened? The last time you believed we weren’t getting enough air?”

“Um… this morning.”

“Mmhmm. And the time before that?”

“Three days ago.”

“Precisely. And do you remember this happening years ago, too?”

“Yes, many times throughout our lifetime.”

“Correct. Now tell me, Hypochondria, during any of these times before, did we have a lung problem?”

“No.”

“Did we have a heart issue?”

“No.”

“Were our lungs getting crushed in a certain way that prevented them from expanding fully?”

“Well, yes. When we had scoliosis.”

“Yes…” Logic considers, tapping her finger to her chin. “Fair point. Before we had surgery to fix the curve in our spine, the curvature was affecting the right lung, wasn’t it? Now you might be worried this is happening again. But we have a spinal fusion holding our spine in place. It is impossible.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Like every time before, the culprit is anxiety. Look at us. We are perfectly fine, not suffering from any oxygen-deprivation symptoms.”

I nod, soaking in Logic’s well thought out… logic, while also considering Hypochondria’s worries. This does happen often… and it’s never anything to be concerned about.

I decide to ignore the voice on my right shoulder and believe that my breathing is normal. I return my attention to the TV, and like every time before, I forget I was ever worried about the depth of my breaths.

*       *       *

I’m walking into the living room of my home. I take a simple step in just the wrong way that it inflicts a searing pain through my lower back. I shout out an unpleasant word and clutch my now aching and hunched back. In a moment as quick as flipping a light switch, I’ve thrown out my back and entered a flare-up of my chronic condition, Degenerative Disc Disease.

“Ahh, you’ve done it again. Brilliant.” Logic tuts. “Now you’ll have to go take your steroids and anti-inflammatories and get your ass back in bed. Take DDD seriously and know your limits. Back to bed, now.”

Logic’s orders irritate me, but I know she’s right.

“Got anything smart to say, Hypochondria?” Logic throws her hands on her hips. 

But my right shoulder is silent.

“Right.” Logic taps her foot while she processes and then concludes, “Hypochondria isn’t worried because she is familiar with this kind of pain. She knows the cause is DDD and is not concerned about it being anything more serious.”

While my back pain is uncomfortable, it is intimate like family. It has visited off and on for years. Hypochondria doesn’t fall victim to confusing it as a stranger. Logic takes over here and delegates the steps I must take to heal. I do not have to worry.

 *       *       *

I am deep in conversation with my boyfriend about a light topic, not one that makes my heart race. And yet, as I explain my point to him, a sharp intake of breath follows a sudden hammering in my chest. A heavy beat followed by no beat at all, followed by a surge of panic, and then everything returns to normal. An alarming heart palpitation halts my conversation, which makes my boyfriend ask if I am okay. I am fine, I reassure him; just another one of those supposedly harmless heart palpitations. But on either shoulder, a war is going on. 

“That was a b-b-big one!” Wide-eyed Hypochondria stammers.

Logic’s eyes find the ceiling in a just-as-big eye roll.

“There are perfectly good explanations for heart palpitations, you know.”

“Oh?” Hypochondria’s voice is small and disbelieving.

“We had caffeine this morning and a glass of wine last night.”

I relax at Logic’s reminder; it makes perfect sense. But then a fluttering in my chest wrenches me from my relaxed state. 

“Did you feel that?” Hypochondria squeaks.

“Of course I did.” Logic snaps, making the right-shouldered fiend recoil. “Don’t overthink it. Our heart raced for a moment because we feel anxious.”

“You don’t think… we are experiencing AFib?”

“NO!” Logic clasps her hand to her forehead in exasperation. “We are young, healthy, and not about to have a heart attack! Puh-lease stop overanalyzing.”

“We should schedule a doctor appointment.” 

Logic glares down at Hypochondria. “We’ve already done that. We visited a cardiologist after experiencing frequent heart palpitations. Don’t you remember the results? After wearing a heart monitor for a month, having an echocardiogram, and performing a stress test, the doctor said there is nothing to worry about. All we have is anxiety and an occasional harmless irregular beat! There is no need to make a fool of ourselves and go back to receive the same information.”

“Not even a second opinion?”

“No. Nothing has gotten any worse, has it?”

“No, but we don’t have an official diagnosis.”

“That is because there is nothing to diagnose!” Logic’s nostrils flare. “I swear it’s like you want something to be wrong!”

“I just want proof that we aren’t dying.” Hypochondria sobs.

“Would a person dying from a heart issue be able to exercise the way we do?”

“Um… probably not.” Hypochondria’s voice is barely audible as she accepts this as proof.

I ponder both sides of the argument on my shoulders. Logic has strong points, but Hypochondria’s thoughts align with my emotions. Meanwhile, my boyfriend has been speaking, but I haven’t heard a word. Should I express my continuing worries about my heart? Again? After the many times before? And receive the familiar pity sigh and the same logic that the voice on the left side of my shoulder has already reassured me of? 

Perhaps I should move forward with Hypochondria’s suggestion and schedule another doctor visit… No. It’s time to be strong and trust logic over emotion. After all, who could take seriously the girl who cried illness?

 *       *       *

I’m in line for a roller coaster at Six Flags with my best friend. It’s an awesomely fun day filled with thrill rides and ice cream. I might have a few ongoing muscle spasms in my back, but that’s not too unusual for someone like me with back problems. Nothing could ruin the excited mood of the day!

“Well actually…” Hypochondria announces her presence from behind a curtain of shaggy hair.

A tingling sensation starts at my right elbow and trickles all the way down to my pinky finger. I massage the area with my other hand, but the feeling only intensifies into a slight numbness.

“Do you feel all of the spasms and numbness and tingling in our body?” Hypochondria states the obvious. 

“Really?” Logic takes a big lick of her double scoop chocolate ice cream cone. “How could I not notice?”

“It’s pretty alarming, isn’t it?”

“Honey, at this point, nothing is alarming. Our back is screwed up and our nerves are compressed. Some muscles spasms and numbness are expected.”

“You think all of these symptoms are caused by DDD?” Hypochondria asks shyly. 

“Yes, dear. Go eat your ice cream cone and hush.”

But Hypochondria is too wired to eat. 

“What does Web MD say?”

“Don’t you dare!” Logic warns.

But I’ve decided to enlighten Hypochondria and my phone screen displays the causes of such symptoms.

“The Internet says it’s either Multiple Sclerosis or Lou Gehrig’s disease.” Hypochondria’s hands shake so hard that she drops her ice cream cone to the ground.

“You know better!” Logic purses her lips and wags her finger at her opponent. “Never use Web MD! The Internet can’t examine you like a doctor can.”

“So you think we should see a doctor?”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. The doctor can give you peace of mind that it’s all just from the DDD.”

“But there must be some part of you that is worried if you think it’s smart to schedule an appointment with a professional.”

“Certainly… There is always a chance.” Logic smirks.

Hypochondria wobbles, looking faint.

“Sometimes,” Logic continues, “ I am not enough. Sometimes an external source is necessary. These are new symptoms. We need an explanation for them.”

Hypochondria is too frightened to speak. Logic sighs, pitying the anxious creature.

“Look, let’s just go ahead and consider the worst-case scenario. Pretend you have ALS. Now what? I’ll tell you what. You live your life to the absolute fullest until your last day. Do you hear me? The worst-case scenario is acceptance of your fate. Think big picture, my friend. You’re just a speck on a planet that is a speck in a universe.”

I absorb Logic’s wild perspective. I schedule the appointment. And I hope for peace of mind.

 *       *       *

I’m eager to continue learning about how to cope with hypochondria. I know I will always have Logic to rely on. I think that with time and practice, Hypochondria will fade and the two will no longer argue on opposing shoulders. But for now and certainly for a while longer, I will have to answer the fidgety, pessimistic little devil who whispers worries into my ear. 

My hope is that reading this dialogue will provide a sense of understanding for those who do not experience anxiety about their health. Surely, even if you don’t worry about your health, you still have little figurative devils on your shoulder whispering worries about another topic that gives you anxiety. Perhaps you can relate in a different way.

I have no doubt it is exhausting to deal with someone who has Hypochondria and expresses their worries out loud. Surely it is hard to find empathy for me when I complain about the same things over and over again.

I can’t speak for all Hypochondriacs, but I can speak for myself. I appreciate logic and repetitive reassurance. If I come to you expressing concern about the state of my health, know that the fear I feel is real. Regardless of how irrational it may seem to others, a state of anxiety or panic about well-being within a Hypochondriac can feel life-threatening. Kindly remind me of the evidence that disproves my anxiety or provide me with the odds or likelihood in number form. Please don’t push my worries aside like they are unimportant, but please do be honest. If you can make me believe that you are both taking me seriously and are not worried that I have a serious health condition, then you’re providing me with reassurance.

If you struggle with Hypochondria, you aren’t alone! I’m open to discussing the joy of it with you anytime. If you’re looking for more writing on the subject, check out this blog I wrote on how to deal with health anxiety.

Mental Health Blog Disclaimer

I am not a medical professional, therapist, or mental healthcare professional. The information provided on this website is for informational purposes only, comes from my own personal experiences, and may be read, interpreted, and practiced at your own risk. Do not rely on this information as a substitute to medical advice or treatment from a healthcare professional.