Woody Allen on hypochondria

What distinguishes my hysteria is that at the appearance of the mildest symptom, let’s say chapped lips, I instantly leap to the conclusion that the chapped lips indicate a brain tumor. Or maybe lung cancer. In one instance I thought it was Mad Cow. (New York Times >)

Patient narrative: vasectomy

Conor O’Neill writes humorously about the difference between accounts he’s heard from friends about having the snip and his own experience:

“Catherine checked multiple times that I was ok with the idea and that I wasn’t rushing in. I guess I must be deeply shallow because in my mind it was at the same level as a root canal or deviated septum op. No concerns about emasculation or man breasts (I have those already), no “what if my entire family is killed in a fire and I want to have more kids when I’m 70?” type questions. Just simple basic “my wife cannot take the pill until menopause” and “Five is enough. Enough. Seriously tho, enough.” Maybe I’ll wake up one day and scream “oh dear jesus my testicles are no longer connected to my vas deferns” but I doubt it.”

“I’d had the heating on full blast all the way in to avoid the Atlantic Swim Effect but the stress of being late negated all of that. Dr Pillay was lovely and asked me if I wanted to relax for a few minutes. I didn’t. For some idiotic reason I thought I might be able to read during the op and brought “The Wisdom of Crowds” with me. He found this amusing.”

Read the full account here >>>