Living as a hypochondriac

Why we panic about our health and how to cope

Three months ago, I was working out and felt a hardness in my right breast. I remembered a friend posting on social media about finding out she had breast cancer. She was my age.

I freaked out.

I grabbed my phone and Googled “hard feeling in the right breast.” I scrolled down the page to find the worst-case scenario: lobular breast cancer (LBC).

I copied the text, hit the search engine, and went on a deep dive into the internet that lasted hours:

• reading stories about women with LBC on forums that are five pages down the Google search
• reading all medical papers on the topic
• figuring out all the treatment options

The scenario built in my head to where I’m at the hospital about to get surgery. Who’ll be there, I wondered? What if I can’t finish my book before I die?

I picked up the phone and called my doctor in Lebanon. I could tell what he was thinking.

Not again.

He reassured me, like he always does, and, like I always do when I’m in my hypochondriac trance, I didn’t believe him.