Melanoma Coma

June 22nd, 2005

I’m a hypochondriac. Always have been, and there seems to be a solid chance, if history is any indication, that I always will be. My past is checkered with mind-boggling brushes with Seriously Deadly Diseases, in addition to a host of Lesser Diseases. Some of my most shining examples include:

• In the eighth grade, I spent the day in the emergency room because I had convinced my parents that the urinary tract infection I had was actually a severe kidney disorder that required immediate attention. If my mother didn’t take me IMMEDIATELY, I was going to die.
• Shortly following the ER visit, the medication I was taking caused me to break out in lesions (an allergic reaction), which I then assumed was HIV-induced Kaposi’s Sarcoma. I assumed I got HIV, of course, from my 60-year-old Israeli pediatric dentist who no doubt passed it to me during a rough cleaning.
• Freshman year of college, during a drunken BSE (yes, that stands for breast self-examination. I TOLD YOU I WAS CRAZY), I found a large lump. Hysterical, I called my mother to say my final goodbyes, convinced it was cancerous. It was 2 a.m. Morning light revealed the lump I had found was MY ENTIRE BREAST. Yes, imagine, my breast is a lump… OF FLESH! Call Dr. Koop!
• Two years ago, I suddenly had to pee a lot. The cause? Definitely fatally dangerous diabetes. Never mind that shortly before this revelation, I bought a Nalgene bottle and started drinking at least 64 ounces of water by 2 p.m. every day.
• A few months ago, my arm was going numb. Googling, along with some ‘help’ from a friend, revealed that the cause of this sensation was most definitely early onset multiple sclerosis.

So, two weeks ago, when I broke out in a rash on my face, the cause was definitely some sort of flesh-eating disease. When the dermatologist informed me it was rosacea, I actually argued with him, insisting that the streptococci had invaded my skin through a cat scratch, and that without his help, and some serious special drugs (did you know that the flesh eating disease is resistant to most antibiotics? OF COURSE I DID!), death was IMMINENT.

So you can imagine how well I reacted, when shortly after taking the medication for my rosacea, Adam announced, “What the HELL is that on your neck?”

A perfunctory glance in the mirror revealed a dark brownish-red splotch in the shape of a boat on the back of my neck. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn that someone tried to choke me, and instead of killing me, only managed to leave me with a severe bruise. Since I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night being choked to death (though I’m sure at times Adam is tempted), my first thought was leukemia, since severe bruising can be an early symptom, you know. At least it was for one of the characters in the book I was reading, and if that’s not a reliable source, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.

After realizing that it wasn’t a bruise, I came to the next logical conclusion: melanoma. New growth? Check. Flat, irregular border? Check. Brown, red or tan? CHECK CHECK CHECK. Death was finally upon me. This was the big one. The disease I’d been preparing for. I called my dermatologist in near-hysterics, only to be told there were no available appointments for a week.

“But you DO NOT UNDERSTAND,” I wailed helplessly. “I COULD BE DEAD BY THEN.”

They were unmoved, and I was given an appointment for this Saturday, and left to my own WebMD devices. WebMD is a hypochondriac’s most trusted tool, you know. You can diagnose yourself with a host of disorders, squeezing square pegs of symptoms into round disease holes and by the end of the surf, you’ve got six months to live. Tick tick, people.

Finally, my dear friend and fellow hypochondriac E, did some Googling on my behalf. No one understands my hypochondriacal plight more than she does – just last week, in fact, I received a rather stressed phone call,

“Dude. I have lupus. It’s definite.”

“E, get out of WebMD. You have a STY in your eye.”

“It’s ocular herpes. I know it.”

It wasn’t, needless to say. Innyhoo, E’s Google search revealed that what I have is actually hyperpigmentation. A somewhat uncommon, innocuous side effect from my rosacea antibiotic.

But I’m still going to the derm on Saturday. Why? BECAUSE IT STILL MIGHT BE MELANOMA.

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