Frazer - Hyper-chondriac: one mans quest to hurry up and calm down

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Copyright 2007 by Brian Frazer

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

For information address Atria Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Frazer, Brian.

Hyper-chondriac: one mans quest to hurry up and calm down / Brian Frazer.

p. cm.

1. Frazer, BrianHealth. 2. HypochondriaPatientsBiography. 3. Medicine, Psychosomatic. I. Title

RC552.H8F73 2007

362.19685250092dc22 2006052131

ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-3891-2
ISBN-10: 1-4165-3891-7

ATRIA BOOKS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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For Sam and Rhoda

Everything in this book is true. However, some names were changed to protect the innocent. Then I realized that I might have changed the names to people Ive never met before and I dont want to insult strangers. So I promptly changed them back to people I knew. Sorry for wasting your time with this page. You can rip it out now, if youd like.

Okay, my lawyers just said that I do have to change the names after all. But not mine. Sorry again for the delay in getting to the actual book.

hyper-chondria n .

The frenetic combustion in ones brain that creates external and internal disease and makes one very unpleasant company to family, peers, the medical community and even oneself.

MARCH 2002

My hands were itching. After scratching my palms furiously for about an hour, they were still itching, so I drove to the pharmacy and spent thirty bucks on creams, lotions and gels. The trip was a quick one since I knew the exact aisle and shelf of every cream, lotion and gel (and capsule and tablet and cough expectorant). An hour later, my cream/lotion/gelcoated hands continued to itch, so I called a friend. Josh had been living in Los Angeles longer than I and seemed privy to every local specialist, whereas my collection of doctors was scattered between Boston, New York and Southern California. He referred me to his dermatologist, Dr. Tamm.

Dr. Tamm was a stern, bespectacled man of about sixty. He also wore what appeared to be a welders mask over his thick glasses, apparently so he could see so deeply into peoples pores that he could make eye contact with the gray matter in their brains.

Heres what I expected to happen in that office visit.

Hi, my hands itch.

Use some of this, son! Dr. Tamm would reply while removing a tube of extra-strength, prescription-only cortisone cream from his front pocket and tossing it to me.

Thank you, sir! I will.

See Donna on the way out for your billing information.

This is what actually happened.

Hi, my hands itch.

You seem pretty tense.

Actually, I feel pretty relaxed right now.

Anything stressful happening in your life at the moment? Did you start a new job? Move? Anything?

Well, Im getting married in a month.

Are you nervous about the wedding?

Not at all. I knew ten minutes into our first date I was going to marry her.

Congratulations.

Thanks.

Howd you meet?

Writing thought-bubbles on a TV show called Blind Date.

Never seen it.

Its like a live comic strip with horny people. I doubt youd like it.

So, I dont think your itching has anything to do with the wedding. Or anything else thats going on in your external surroundings.

You know that already? Youve spent like forty-five seconds with me.

I know, but your energy is overpowering. Youre the most uptight, high-strung person Ive ever met. The problem isnt in your hands. Its in your head.

Dr. Tamm probably had a point.

On paper Im the worlds healthiest guy. I eat right, exercise regularly, drink in moderation, have all of the good cholesterol and none of the bad, weigh the same as I did in high school, have ideal blood pressure, am caffeine-free, get plenty of sleep, never smoke and have only missed one day of flossing in the last five years. Its essential that I take tip-top care of myself. Because underneath the wholesome habits and exemplary bodily statistics, Im an unmitigated, non-synergetic mess.

But my body isnt to blame; its my minds fault. Ive been attempting to regulate this high-maintenance brain of mine since my first baby aspirin. Some kids had guidance counselors. I had hypnotists. Others cried when they got braces. I had anxiety attacks whenever I saw baked beans. Friends collected baseball cards. I collected doctors cards. Life just didnt feel right unless something was wrong.

For me theres always been a certain calmness in being in the diagnostic chair; then at least theres a reason for why life isnt as satisfying and perfect as Id like it to be. Although I usually dont know what Ive got until the experts tell me, once they do, Im psychedas long as there are pills to swallow, creams to rub and warnings to heed. Im fully capable of generating a new disease every month. Colitis. Prostatitis. Bronchitis (three times, including one stint on antibiotics in England for fifty-seven consecutive days). Hepatitis (the kind that turns you yellow, not the kind that Tommy Lee gave Pamela Anderson). Bigarexia (yes, there is such a thing). And as soon as Ive conquered the ailment du jour, Ill just move on to the next disorder. Hastily. But it took a dermatologist to help me realize that I didnt actually have a collection of diseasesI had just one. Hyper-chondria. A word Ive made up for my condition.

Now, before I go any further, let me explain the difference between a hy po chondriac (not me) and a hy per -chondriac (me). Hypochondria is when you think youre sick but youre really not. The hypochondriacs imaginary symptoms and ailments could theoretically be cured with a variety of placebosbe they Halloween candy, dog kibble or a plastic button from a rugby shirt.

Conversely, placebos dont help hyper-chondriacs because hyper-chondriacs actually are sick. Unlike my hypo brethren, when I go to the doctor, I think I have ailment X and I do. The seed of each disease originates in my hyper brain, which subsequently creates a swirl of inner turmoil and turbulence in my body.

Ive always been in a rush to do things: I paced in my crib, I barked at my parents to stir my chocolate milk faster, I ran out my walks in Little League. I would also seek revenge on anyone who impeded my path to getting things done quickly. Seemingly every day of my life Ive had to restrain myself from punching people in the face. Before I discovered my hyper-chondria, I couldnt even drive more than a mile without honking at someone. And I dont just mean a little tap that says, Heyumexcuse mebut the light just changed. Im talking about holding down the horn with my forehead while simultaneously giving the other car the finger with both hands. Not only was I rushing through life, I was rushing through life in a combative rage. For the better part of my thirty-eight years, my head felt as if it was inhabited by a pair of destructive heavy-metal bands each occupying a brain hemisphere. And neither of them liked the other.

So when Dr. Tamm had a solution to my itchy palms I was ready for action. He pulled out his free drug company pen with the word Doxycycline printed on the side and scribbled something on his pad, then tore the page off and stared at me as I read it aloud.

Zoloft?

I think itll help.

Isnt that for depression? Because Im not depressed. Its one of the few things that doesnt seem to happen to me.

It can be for depression, but its also used as an anti-anxiety medication.