It’s a given, I’m a hypochondriac. I always think that there is something wrong with my health. A pain in the abdomen would make me think I am having an appendicitis. A terrible migraine would make me think that I could have an aneurysm at any moment. I even thought I have diabetes just because of a mere sight of a single ant in the toilet.
I even thought that I might have HIV.
You see, although I rarely have unprotected sex, there was this one time that I had a one-night stand with some tall junkie equiped with a two-inch stick. Don’t ask how I ended up with him.
It has been years since that happened, but I have been wondering why he was so aggressive to put his thumb-size wang on me. Then it came into me: He probably wanted to infect me with HIV.
Don’t get me started on getting tested. I’m afraid that it might turn out positive (and all hell would break loose), so I rely on the physical symptoms. Whenever I see a white “spot” on my lip, I try to wipe it off hoping that it is just a case of chapped lips.
The one day, I took off my shirt as I was about to take a bath and I noticed a red patch on my skin. Was it skin cancer? Uh-oh, if it’s skin cancer, then it’s a physical symptom for HIV.
I tried to shrug it off, but the next day the red patch quickly spread to other parts of the body, most of which are on both my sides. I tried self-analyzing the situation, and realized that I probably got these skin patches from the blanket that I was using for Pilates (which was once used by our pups).
Turns out that I have a bad case of ringworm.