This little episode has got me accused of all sorts (thanks Sarah!). Not least that I have achieved new levels of drama queenery (is that a word?). At the weekend, despite the best-laid plans to be incredibly cheerful, I was not feeling very well. I don’t get ill that often, and when I do I always exaggerate my symptoms. I am one of those recklessly foolish people who ALWAYS take the…I’m searching for a word that would make me not seem so stupid…but I can’t find one, so imbecilic will have to do. I made the imbecilic decision to Google my symptoms.
After a half an hour of searching I realised to my horror that my illness was likely to result in having one or both of my feet amputated. I kid you not. I am normally a very rational, sensible person who is quite intelligent and relatively articulate, but I was genuinely fearful. I spent the weekend under the fug of fear, worrying.
Anyway, despite the fever pitch I had got myself into by Monday, I forced myself to ring the doctor. If I was going down, I was going to go down as a big girl’s blouse – quite literally. So I booked and went to the morning emergency appointment. After about 5 minutes of time with the Doctor, I realised two things. Firstly, that I may have a problem with overreaction. Secondly that he was about 1% as concerned as I was and that there really was nothing that abnormal. Blood tests – why do they always send me for blood tests – needed to be done, but apart from that, no need to worry to these hysterical levels.
Instead of walking out relieved, I started thinking – ooh, he’s very young. Does he really know what he’s doing? He could be mistaken. Google is well known for its medical expertise. Maybe I should get a second opinion. I didn’t. I went back to my first realisation – i.e. that I may have a slight tendency towards overreaction. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing and despite everything, I might be ok for another week or two rather than imminently facing destruction.
But what’s the point of all of this? Its simple really. When I got my Google diagnosis, as even more stupid and facile as this sounds, the big thought that crossed my mind is that I might never wear heels again. For someone who is trying not to be the girl anymore, don’t you think that’s an odd thing to think?