Inherited Paranoia

I'll never forget the time I was sick as a child with some minor ailment, and my mom took the opportunity to teach me something about my father. He was, as always, freaking out about all the possibilities this ache could be, and it was in turn freaking me out. Mom took me aside, and whispered to me, "Don't worry about all that. He's just like his mother. He thinks everything is cancer."

My grandmother was an extremely paranoid person, so my dad did come by this quirk honestly. Unfortunately, despite being warned at a young age by my mother, I, too, have inherited this gene, and it is a burdensome gene. Six months ago, I had a constant pain in my lower back. I stayed up night after night worrying about all the types of cancer or terminal illnesses that might make themselves known through back pain. Finally, I went to the doctor. It appears I had kinked up a muscle by worrying too much. That's right. I was suffering from a severe case of irony.

This compulsive worrying is not limited to just worrying about myself. I also manage to worry about my friends and family. For the past few weeks, my dad has been crippling around with a sore toe. I managed to get in quite a fright over this. I'd never heard of toe cancer, but who knows for sure, right? The pain finally got too much for him, and he went to the doctor. Turns out he had a planter's wort. As pathetic as this sounds, I slept better last night knowing my father just had a planter's wort.

In mine and my father's defense, we really had very little chance of coming out well. My Grandma Pierce was a nut. She actually got herself into a panic once because she thought her San Angelo Standard Times horoscope was telling her she was a lesbian. Yay, I was doomed long ago.