[For those new to my blog, you may want to visit this past post about my history with being a hypochondriac. It's a classic!]
In my ten plus years of marriage, there has not been a single year where I have not contracted some deadly, maniacal disease that needed urgent attention from a specialist. Nevertheless, this year I made a point of doing all that is in my power to stop this inane habit of making an appointment for every lump, scrape and oddity that my body deals with on a daily basis.
That is not to say that this past year has not had it's share of health scares. Recently I have had a persistent jock itch on the old undercarriage - if you know what I mean. I also had a very painful rash on my back a few months ago that was so awful it actually left a pretty bad scar. In addition, I swore I had an enlarged prostate because of, well lets just call it a leaky faucet. Finally, during the first 6 months of the past year, the middle of my back tingled almost nonstop. I attribute this to over-anxiety and stress about the state of my health.
A full year without visiting the doctor and for once in my adult life, I seem to be in perfect health. The jock itch may have been irksome, the back rash painful and the mythical enlargement of my prostate bothersome (Much like BYU's "mythical 1984 National Championship.), but I feel that I am a better man for having lived through them and survived.