Hypochondriac

If there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm slightly a hypochondriac. I take my temperature often (not quite daily). I once made a friend because I thought I had a brain tumor in Waco (it was a small bump on the back of my head that went away). I primarily like to whine when I'm sick. However, my Pentecostal upbringing, which doesn't push medicine, but rather faith, means that the only medicine I ever own is Ibuprofen. Okay, okay, so that's an overstatement--perhaps it's just my family, and even my family takes medicine occasionally. But I would argue that the ethos of our family is quite similar to Mary Baker Eddy and Christian Science: all sickness is in your head and if your will is strong enough, you can will it away.

This past weekend, I was feeling some cold symptoms and, as usual, complaining loudly about them. This is not a good time for me to get sick, just too much work to do. Anyway, my housemates were so, so sweet--one gave me a little bag of vitamin C, another alkaseltzer (boy I like that!), and another a hug (claiming that it causes the liver to release stuff that heals you). This morning, the kind man who runs the program sent his little daughter to my office with Emergen-C (she appeared in a fairy costume, because she's nine, and very into fairies). Housemates and neighbors are delightful! But don't worry, Mom and Dad, I prayed, too!