Living High as a “Hypo”

The past three months are summer vacation here in the Philippines. As a full-time university student, it was my opportunity to relax and hang out with friends. But the opposite happened in my case; instead of an entire summer of enjoying, it was a summer of fear.

It all began when I started getting tired eyes every few minutes for basically entire days. Whenever my family and I went to a mall, I quietly wished I stayed home because I couldn’t keep my eyes open longer than two seconds. Instead of delighting in the cool air-conditioned centers, I was shivering in cold as my hands grew increasingly numb. At the screening of Spiderman 3, I didn’t even get to glue my eyes to every scene as my head started getting a dull ache.

For the next few days, I seemed dizzy most of the time. When I wake up, I have to stay motionless for several seconds as my eyes seemed to lose focus. I would have to close them, and then breathe deeply thrice before I can start walking. The dull aches at my head continued—sometimes at the side near the bases of my neck, often at either side of my temples. And to cap it off, I was having weird aches in either side of my stomach. I also started taking note of the fact that I haven’t had bowel movement in two consecutive days—and I even keep farting.

It was at that point that I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I started searching the Internet for all the signs and symptoms I was experiencing. As an inborn researcher, it wasn’t long before I diagnosed myself with cataract, dry eyes, meningitis, anemia, leukemia, stomach cancer, and brain tumor. I couldn’t remember the rest because they were less severe than the abovementioned.

Then I started “spotting”. Reddish to brownish blood appeared in my underwear. The catch? I just had my period two weeks before. I knew that was THE period because it was heavy and because it matched my regular month’s-end cycle. So I searched and searched and voila! I’ve got diagnoses for endometriosis, ectopic pregnancy, hypothyroidism, uterine fibroids, leukemia, STD, leukemia, ovarian cancer, and uterine cancer. I ruled out ectopic pregnancy and STD, since I am still a virgin (and so far an angel hasn’t appeared to me yet). And to shorten the list, I crossed out leukemia, too, since a close friend told me that people who get leukemia often have their nose bleeding for no reason. (Thank God my nose hasn’t bled ever—yet.) I also crossed out hypothyroidism as I know that the thyroid gland affects growth, and well, I stand 5’6”. (I know, stupid reason, but still that removes one worry.)

I started praying novenas and even made a pledge to pray the Rosary every day, along with continuous web searches and diagnoses. I also started joining online groups, in which I ask other users if they have ever felt anything similar to what I did and what they think it must be. The answers were kind and sympathetic. Several others recounted their own story. But I still wasn’t entirely convinced.

The rest of the “symptoms” plague me up to now. Out of fear that I would die for no apparent cause, leaving my loved ones confounded, I started sharing my fears to them. I told my best friend, my parents, and my aunt. I didn’t want more to know out of embarrassment (in case I really am healthy and all that) but they spread the word, anyway. They laughed at me (in a reproachful way) and repeated that I was too young to get sick. After all, our youngest relative who died of a serious illness was 37. I am just 18.

My mom’s best friend claimed that whenever we read something about illnesses, it is normal for our bodies to start “feeling” the symptoms too. But, I thought, I felt these symptoms even before I read about them. Every day, as another new sensation comes up, I ran to the computer and self-diagnosed myself. And every day, my list of illnesses gets longer, not to mention, harsher. In my frustration, I searched for this illness (if it is one).

And it is. Hypochondria (sometimes called hypochondriasis, not that it sounds better) is a health anxiety. “Hypo” is a phobia that makes a person think that he has an illness or will get one soon. Apparently, it is what I have.

“Hypo” usually afflicts those with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) and I’m not surprised to have it as I am an OC. It can also be caused by depression, anxiety, and even stress (which I get lots of, I admit).

Whiteley Index, a recognized self-test for hypochondria, proves me right. I scored a whopping 64 (the highest is 70). And the page says: “Patients with hypochondria are found to have a score of 44 +/- 11 (32 to 55).” If so, then I am a super-hyper-mega-hypochondriac.

My seemingly eternal worries subsided when I discovered that I was not alone—there were many of us! One to five percent of all people are “hypos”. That means, of the almost 6.6 billion people on Earth, at least 66 million up to 330 million are just like me. I was utterly delighted.

Knowing that such illness exists have helped save my sanity, even more when I found out that I was not alone. Though I continue to check the Internet (tie my hands because I really can’t help it!) for a few aches here and there, I am less fearful of death. Life must go on. I may really have anemia and maybe I need new glasses, but I believe I am still too young to be seriously ill right now. Plus, I’m no longer bleeding, and my recent bowel was of normal size. (Smaller feces is a strong sign of stomach cancer.)

A balanced diet, moderate exercise, lots of sleep, and deep breathing are my new friends. After all, every problem has a solution. But I’d rather not create that problem myself.