It’s June 15th and I’ve only blogged once this month. Totally unacceptable. Totally. But I have a good excuse. It’s summer. I’m working. My kids are out of school. My dogs are needy. The laundry never stops. And I’ve been a bit under the weather.
Not Serious-Under-the-Weather, just enough for a little self-diagnosis and medication. It’s a pretty scary thing to engage in, this self-diagnosis. In the age of the Internet, the more you dig through symptoms, the more you can be convinced you’re about to die. On the spot. A horrible, writhing mess. A painful, prolonged death.
Over the past week, I’ve been fairly certain I have multiple tumors, third world parasites, and ailments that normally only affect African American males over the age of 60.
But I did land on something that makes a bit of sense.
Menopause. Early menopause. You know why? Just take a look at these top symptoms:
1. Hot Flashes
2. Night Sweats
3. Irregular Periods
4. Loss of Libido
5. Vaginal Dryness
6. Mood Swings
8. Hair Loss
9. Sleep Disorders
10. Difficulty Concentrating
11. Memory Lapses
13. Weight Gain
17. Brittle Nails
18. Changes in Odor
19. Irregular Heartbeat
23. Panic Disorder
24. Breast Pain
26. Joint Pain
27. Burning Tongue (What does that even MEAN??)
28. Electric Shocks
29. Digestive Problems
30. Gum Problems
31. Muscle Tension
32. Itchy Skin
33. Tingling Extremities
I’m intimately familiar with about 95% of those symptoms. I won’t tell you which ones, but as I sit here sweating through my PJs, I will admit that my nails are not brittle.
I’m quite sure, in fact, that I’ve been going through menopause since I was twelve. Mary Claire might even be going through it right now. It’s probably hereditary. I’m going to have to look that up.
Seriously, this online self-diagnosis is akin to what I like to call “Amazon’s Swirling Vortex of Death.” You know the one. It goes like this… “Others who purchased this remote control helicopter also purchased this…” And by the time four short hours have passed, your virtual cart is filled with an electric scooter, wide-ruled notebook paper, a book on origami, and four new all-terrain tires.
Except when you head down the “Self-Diagnosis Swirling Circle of Death,” you might literally end up with… well, death. Or at least something that will cause irreparable harm to your pancreas.
If I’m not going through early menopause, I’ve probably got schistosomiasis. Don’t look it up. Just don’t.
Or perhaps, I’m just a bit under the weather.
Either way, I’m going to have a glass of wine, get off the Internet, and snuggle in with a good book.
And a high-powered fan.