Hypochondriac

I visited the doctor recently. Got something in my throat. Or was it serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor?

I wonder. Because, if its is not a big problem, one thing is sure – I’m becoming a hypochondriac. I mean it could have been anything.

The doctor said it was inflammation. Of course, my immediate response was, “Does it mean that I’m hot”. Okay, okay. I didn’t say it. Coz, the doctor is a male, pushing sixty, and was probably salivating over some vacation brochures before I incurred his displeasure. If it was some babe doctor, I am sure she would have been suitably seduced and prescribe me some rat poison.

The thing is, I have been pretty sensitive as a kid. I asked my mom about it recently and she said, “yeah, you bug me even when you get mosquito bites”. I said, of course, it could have been malaria or dengue. But I didn’t like the look she gave me.

I guess we all are a bit of a hypochondriac in many ways. No? What do you mean don’t include us? We are human, right? What? I am not? Hey, go fly kite.

Okay, sorry, that was Wilson. Just saw Cast Away last night and got into that mood.

Where was I?

Yeah. Hypochondriac. The other week, I saw kind of pimple thingy on the back of my palm. I scratched it. It grew back. I scratched it again. And it got bigger. And I got worried. What if it is some kind of alien growing and waiting to burst out and call me ‘papa’?

But I gave it some time. Turned out to be wart. Yeah. Freakin’ mole.

So, my advice to you kids out there. It’s okay if you feel slight change of temperature in yourself. It could be the weather. You know how the weather is these days. Or it could be some exotic South American disease. Go figure.