My bishop came up to me today and asked me what my health scare of the week was this week. Apparently he has been reading my blog and like the rest of you, enjoying a good laugh at my expense. Of course, he already knew this week's round of paranoia as I had called Cathi in a panic while she was at girls camp and she very happily shared my story with the group. Apparently, my mental illness has turned into a way for her to entertain others at dinner parties and youth camps. I don't mind though. I will do anything for a laugh, even if it means becoming mentally insane and living a jittery, unnerving life; scared silly of death. Well, laugh it up girls camp girls! Just wait until YOU think YOUR prostate is enlarged. You will be singing a different story then.
I was worried about this organ (or is it gland?) for a mighty fine reason: I had been peeing every one to two hours! That could not be normal, I thought, and I Googled my one and only symptom. (Actually, I had another symptom; my stream does not seem to be up to it's usual power, but I was not too concerned about this. I mean, it is still a decent powered stream. It's not going to remove paint or anything, but it will do.) Google, as I have previously learned over and over, is no substitute for a good doctor.
The first thousand or so hits were for enlarged prostate. I was concerned. I needed to learn more. Apparently, it is rare in men under the age of 50, but pay no attention to that fact. I was convinced. My symptom fit the description. I had an enlarged prostate.
My conviction turned to doubt a couple days later, when I realized I was going 8 hours at a time during the night without using the restroom. My conviction was completely overturned when I went to church and did not pee once in 6 hours. No, my prostate is probably fine.
This is the weird final analysis: I was thinking about peeing so much, it was making me need to pee. I was so worried about having to pee every 2 hours, I subconsciously made myself pee. Ah, the life of a hypochondriac. Will it ever end? Someday it will, when I die of one of the 200 diseases I was sure I had.
Now if you will excuse me, I need to go pee.