Hypochondria almost killed me

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Have you ever thought you were dying of colon cancer, and while planning how to make your children’s life bearable after you pass, you bought them a puppy?

If you haven’t, my suggestion is to wait for your official diagnosis before picking up the dog. Perhaps researching the breed beforehand would have also been a good choice. But instead I thought, “Boy that puppy is so cute and fluffy; plus, my neighbor’s mom’s, dog groomer’s proctologist said this breed isn’t supposed to shed and is hypoallergenic, so it’s got to be perfect for us!”

Unfortunately, this was me two weeks ago, and I can’t find enough Calgon to take me away. It’s not that I don’t like dogs, but I’ve been warned never to get a puppy and I’m old enough to know better. This dying thing caught me off guard, plus you should have seen her widdle picture!

Despite the fact my family had begged for a dog for years, the pressure to give in to their request before my imminent demise felt real and strong.

Like flossing before going to the dentist, I usually make sound, well thought out decisions; however when I do lose logical perspective, my analytical husband – my yin to my yang – will point me in the right direction. He’s my “spell-checker” of logical ideas.

But this one time, our system failed!

I should have noticed the hubby wanted a dog again, when he started drawing plans to build a fence instead of checking my DNR or Advanced Directive at the medical plaza, but I really thought I was a goner.

People, hypochondria can slowly take over your brain without a warning. Every ache and pain of mine couldn’t be normal for someone the mere age of 29 (plus a few decades), but since I’d never experienced the age before, I didn’t recognize the signs.

Looking back over the last few years, age had been doing a number on my health realities. In fact, a health data-checker would be the perfect app for me. It would ask:

1. Are you breathing?
2. Do you have a pulse?
3. Are you having severe intestinal issues?
4. Are you considering getting a puppy? DON’T!!

Not only would this mobile app have protected me, but I can only assume the population would save a bunch on health care expenses. [Note to reader: if you design this mobile app, I expect 20-percent of all gross sales.]

So, the puppy is a keeper. I must be positive and keep the whining for the puppy and my pre-teens. I will invest in a nice crate and tall playpen. I’ll take stock in quality earplugs and doggie pee pads. Then I’ll plan on getting rid of everything in our house within the next year. This way if any shoe or windowsill survives death by mastication, it will be a pleasant surprise and a bonus!

Despite my mere diagnosis of gastric reflux, I’m healthy! My girls are thrilled to have a new fuzzy friend, and my husband finally has someone to chase sticks in the newly fenced in backyard.

Excuse me. I need to let out the dog. It’s been over 15 minutes.

I’m sure all of these changes and stressors won’t affect my reflux one bit.

(previously published in The Kansas City Star)

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