I can hardly wait for the phantom pregnancy!

Next - symptomless gangrene!

Over the past three years, one of my friends has suffered from a series of mysterious ailments with no obvious symptoms.

It all started when he became convinced that he’d been poisoned by his ex-wife. The alleged poisoning somehow mutated into glandular fever, which in turn gave way to meningitis (actually, that one was almost believable, because there definitely seems to be something wrong with his brain). I kind of lost track after his bout of imaginary meningitis, but in his most recent health crisis, he was certain that he had cancer. Or tuberculosis. Possibly both.

If I sound unsympathetic, it’s probably because I am. I didn’t start off this way, but his maladies have all, without exception, turned out to be the medical equivalent of swamp gas or the planet Venus.

I believe he has a rare condition called fullofshititus, which causes an overwhelming desire to have endless blood tests done, “just to be sure”. He’s managed to combine hypochondria and self-mutilation into a strangely logical, but nonetheless insane package.

The local emo kids think he is a god.


42 thoughts on “I can hardly wait for the phantom pregnancy!

  1. Guys like that are a drain on the health care system. One morning he’ll wake up and die. His final words will be “I told you so!” At long last. Vindication.

    My wife’s grandmother was like that. Financially set. Comfortable. Surrounded by family and friends for decades. But always sick. What a waste.


  2. I know this awful woman in town who supposedly has some immuno-something-or other disease, and uses her near death status to torture the world. She conned some shmucky plastic surgeon into giving her free lipo because she was dying. I thought that was funny. Something’s wrong with me. She’d alive and kicking 10 years after the lipo.


  3. Oh crap! Nursemyra beat me to it – I wanted to say MUNCHHAUSENS! Now I can’t think of anything original! It must be easy to buy him presents. Boxes of painkillers, anti histamines, antacids, plasters, burn dressings, slings, a walking stick (for the really BAD days)….the list is satisfyingly endless. Gift vouchers for physiotherapy sessions, brain scans, x-rays…. oh hell I can’t stop….


  4. But it’s a well known psychobabble fact that hyperchondriacs out live us all… so the psychobabble logic suggests that it’s actually incredibly clever to be a hypochondriac.


  5. Start making up maladies of your own. It’ll quickly escalate into a competition, but you have a leg up because you don’t even need to make yours sound reasonable.


  6. I’m pretty sure my husband suffers from the same ailment: fullofshititus. I believe it’s something passed on by their mothers who insisted on dotting on them constantly when they were young boys and would be cottled to death when they had a cough or the sniffles. It’s lethal. Said men with these ailments risk having their heads bashed in by their wives due to incessant complaining.


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