Influenced and Controlled by Evil Spirits

Obsession:  A compulsive or irrational preoccupation; an unhealthy fixation; influence or control by evil spirits without possession.

So I'm hanging out this morning with my favorite and most popular obsession - the dire state of my body, and I'm not letting the fact that there isn't anything really dire going on stop me from obsessing.  God forbid I ever have anything truly serious happen to me.  Yet, if I live long enough something dire is surely going to happen.  I'm one of the few people alive who hopes that a large truck plows into me today so I don't have to face my mortality in a slow, thoughtful way.  My general synopsis of anything that has to do with my physical plant is that it's cancer, it's terminal, and it's going to take me out slowly and with great malice of forethought.  Makes the truck fantasy look pretty attractive, doesn't it.

I've been on about a week's run of sinus to oral cavity perforation.  This is a real thing, believe it or not, that is occasionally associated with the violent and forcible removal of an upper molar.  At least my obsession du jour has a damned cool name.  The fact that it's pretty rare isn't stopping me from obsessing about it; neither is the fact that when it does occur it usually resolves on its own.

Because I'm irritated that I'm once again focusing on my health I decided to pull out my old journals, all of which have thoughts logged into my ongoing Anxiety List, where I jot down whatever is troubling me during the course of a day.  Thankfully, the log is often empty and when there is an entry it's usually some topical problem that gets taken care of quickly, either by an obvious action or by a little patient waiting.  And unsurprisingly, health worries dominate the list.  Irritatingly to the Nth degree I see that most of the things I worry about do not come to pass and that they resolve of their own accord, after the passage of some time.  Waiting is called for and I wait for no man.

I'm the kind of guy who expects an injury to heal the next day.  I'm not thrilled with the tendency of my body to take its fucking time to get better and I'm incensed that the amount of time is increasing as I get older.

Old:  For a living being, having lived for most of the expected years; of a perishable item, having existed for most, or more than its shelf life.  (Ed Note: there are a ton of nuanced usages of the word "old."  I say checkitout).

"So how's the tooth?" my dentist asked at my last sitting.

I paused, delivered my well-rehearsed line: "I'm battling the reality of the tooth with my tendency to imagine the worst possible outcome of anything that has to do with my body."

He chuckled: "I think we all have a tendency to do that to a certain degree."

A few days later, tired of the anxiety, I called the oral surgeon to give him an update and solicit any emergency instructions.  The medical tech tried to reassure me with some facts and figures, said that the doctor was with a patient but that she would talk to him and call back if there was anything of concern."

"Oh, c'mon," I teased.  "You're not going to call me back irregardless of what he says?"  I figure even if he delivers a hammer blow of devastatingly bad news she still might forget to keep me in the loop, leaving me to interpret a non-call as confirmation of disaster.  Not being solicitous of my well-being is all part of the universal conspiracy.

I assured her that wasn't necessary, that I would see them in a few days unless something was going on that needed to accelerate the appointment, sharing my tendency to imagine cancer! terminal cancer!! terminal incurable cancer!!! to every ache and pain.

She tsked and clucked and giggled: "Yeah, I know, I'm like that, too."

I always imagine that all of my free-floating fears and anxieties are unique to me, that I'm some kind of obsessive-compulsive freak.