I am a drama queen.
I assume the worst, catastrophize, mad-crush, fetishize and over-indulge. Apparently this is a genetic advantage.
An article in the Age this weekend extolled the virtues of people like me; the idea is that those who fear the worst are better prepared for negative situations. I fear, therefore I hide, therefore I am.
I was reminded of this today, when I turned to my long-suffering buddy and said, "I think I have tonsillitis". She (sensibly) ignored me.
"No really!" I insisted, sniffing heavily. "I have a sore throat and I feel really tired. I'll probably have to go to Emergency for IV fluids and Prednisolone."
...silence...
Why does she ignore me?
2 weeks ago I was convinced I had HIV. Symptoms: Fatigue & muscle aches. Post-gym.
A month ago, I was sure I had Hanta virus. Due to the large population of South American deer-mice in the 'Bool.
Yesterday, my rumbling stomach was a clear sign of Crohn's Disease. Or cafeteria tacos.
This drama is a plus in my work-life: all my patients are seconds from death, even if they're just a little gassy.
It's less useful in my personal life: I seriously considered turfing my Liberal cos I got a cold this week. As far as my hysterical brain is concerned, this man is the Ebola Monkey.
Luckily, Buddy tuned in at this point.
"Sam, you work in a hospital, surrounded by sick people. It's much more likely you got your cold from them."
"But I haven't been sick all year, and now I'm on the cusp of death due to Liberal's Auswegian germs!"
"Sam, you can't blame him. And you cannot spritz people with antibacterial wash, no matter how much you like them..."
So, while I recognize the genius in the Marriage family motto (Cowardly at all Costs!) I think my melodramatic genes need to be paired with phlegmatic Kiwi DNA if I'm to have any chance of reproducing.
That's if the prostate cancer doesn't get me first.
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