My Professional Background - Once upon a time, I wanted to be a motivational speaker. Actually, I was a professional motivational speaker for about 5 years.:
A Doctor's Worst Nightmare

Y’all may remember last year’s string of hypochondriacal posts like the one where I diagnosed myself with Bleeding Esophageal Varices and the one where I told you about my embarrassing trip to the ER. These are still two of my favorite video posts of all time. Probably because they’re both incredibly melodramatic and also exactly what happens inside my brain when I allow myself to visit WebMD without a chaperone.

It’s like unleashing a monkey inside a banana store.

[With metaphors like that, I can’t believe Katy hasn’t won a Pulitzer yet.]

If only they had a “blogging” category.

But enough about my writing skills. I’m much better known for my ability to melodramatize every bump, pain and abnormality I experience. Believe me when I say that I try reeeeeeeeeally hard not to do this, but it’s an impossible feat when you have a very large extended family that can one-up any medical condition known to man.

Says a relative of mine, “Oh, you’re exhausted? I’m sorry to hear that. I struggle with exhaustion too. But it’s probably because I have 15 different debilitating aliments that cause it.”

Says another family member, “Oh, you have painful menstrual cramps? I do too. But that’s probably because I have 15 different ailments that cause them.”

Says another, “I had a disease so rare they sent medical students into my hospital room to observe me.”

It takes me 45 minutes to complete the family medical history section of every new patient form I sign. 

So when you take my family history and add it to my preexisting condition (hypochondria) and WebMD addiction, you can see why I’m pretty much a doctor’s worst nightmare.

“Oh, that’s an interesting bump . . . ON MY EYE! I’ll just assume it’s cancer and be pleasantly surprised when it isn’t.”

And that’s exactly what happened. 

I woke up one morning several weeks ago and noticed a bump in my eye that wasn’t there the day before. I know this because I daily stand before a mirror and gaze longingly into my own eyes.

Kidding. I grew out of that.

I know this because I wear contacts and makeup on occasion. I also have one of those mirrors that magnifies my face so much that it makes me want to pluck out every blonde hair on my face.

“Brian, why didn’t you tell me I had a forest growing between my eyes?”

So, I noticed this bump IN MY EYE, and I couldn’t rest until I knew why it was there. I was sure that my military doc (we’ll call him Dr. Monotone) would take one look and tell me to quit being such a hypochondriac.

I visited Dr. Monotone earlier this month. If you follow me on Facebook, you may remember that I posted this:


Dr. Monotone had no idea what kind of craziness he was about to unleash when he referred me to a specialist. He should have just told me to go ahead and make arrangements.

(Side note to my eulogy-writer: Please refer to my Perfect Wife and Perfect Mother videos for inspiration.)

So, approximately 11 days and 40 minutes after my appointment with Dr. Monotone, I had my appointment with the ophthalmologist. We’ll call him Dr. Dawdle. I sat in the exam room for A SOLID HOUR staring at the ophthalmology equipment. Just wondering which one he would use to biopsy my eye.

(Side note to doctors of hypochondriacs everywhere: Please don’t leave me alone in an exam room for an hour with nothing but your equipment and my imagination.)

I really do think it would be a good idea for doctor’s offices to have something entertaining inside the exam rooms. Like HGTV. Or a frozen yogurt machine. Or a hamster. SOMETHING other than an hour of me in total silence diagnosing myself.

Dr. Dawdle entered the room mere moments before I flung open the door and shouted, “I COULD BE DEAD IN HERE, AND YOU WOULD NEVER KNOW!” He made a bit of small talk and then examined my eyes while his lovely assistant recorded their own secret language.

“The patient has an A4 in region 67 with an exaggerated D9 on her QTL.

All the while I’m thinking, “AM I DYING?!?!?!?”

Why must they speak in code? I will never understand.

He completes the exam, plops onto his stool, and rolls himself to a more comfortable talking distance. “So, Mrs. Morgan. You say your husband is in the military?”

Seriously? Are you making small talk with me right now? We’re not in a bar. This is not a meet and greet. I have waited 11 days and AN ENTIRE HOUR in your exam room, and you want to chat me up before you tell me if I’m dying?

“Yes, sir. He’s in the Air Force.”

“Great. I was in the Navy. I was deployed to Iceland . . . “

I then took a mental trip to Pluto. I couldn’t handle it. Is this man seriously giving me war stories in the middle of my exam? I’m planning my funeral here, and he’s taking about the sunlight in Iceland.

“And speaking of sunlight, that bump on your eye is nothing serious. It’s actually from sun damage. It’s called a Pinguecula.”

I was so relieved that I said, “Huh. That sounds like penguin.”

“ . . . “

Remember, I was still on Pluto.

“It’s nothing to worry about, but you need to make sure you wear your sunglasses outside. Do you spend lots of time in the sun?”

“A few hours a day. But I’m actually on intensive vitamin D supplements because of too LITTLE sun. My doctor told me to spend MORE time in the sun.”

“Well, this could have been from your childhood. You said you grew up in Georgia?”

(Yes, I did say that. Back when we were making small talk for an hour before you told me if I was dying.)

“Yes, sir.”

“It could just be from all the time you spent in the sun as a kid. And it’s catching up with you now that you’re older.”

“Great. So this is just because I’m old?”

“Yes. You’re ancient.”

“Seriously, I’m 32, and I already have age-related issues?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“It starts.”

So, I want to thank those of you who inquired about my health the day I went to the doctor with a “minor medical issue.” I appreciate your concern. Thankfully, I have nothing to worry about . . . except aging.

Well, aging and hypochondria.

Make that aging, hypochondria, and doctors who make me wait.

PS – Stay tuned this week because I have some HUGE news to share! You might want to subscribe (on the right-hand side of this page) if you haven’t already. You can get my posts — and only my posts — to your inbox so you won’t miss a thing. Also, you can be the first to see my grammatical errors before my dad catches them. 


Comments to "A Doctor’s Worst Nightmare"

  1. Robyn

    May 28, 2014

    Katy – I laughed the whole time I read this, you were on a roll with this post! My favorite words to hear in the doctors office lately: “this is not unusual for someone who is YOUR age.” Ugh. 32 is not old, unless you are 18.

    • Katy in a Corner

      May 28, 2014

      Thanks, Robyn! I’m pretty excited to see what gravity has in store for me next.

  2. G-Man

    May 28, 2014

    Katy, I’ve often found that an intense workout regimen can be good for what ails you. Just sweat it out is my motto. Have I ever told you that? 🙂

    • Katy in a Corner

      May 28, 2014

      “Rub some dirt on it. Shake it off. Sweat it out.” None of these work for a bump in the eye.

  3. Cyndi

    May 28, 2014

    Speaking of grammatical errors, apparently your proofreader(s) missed “minor medial issue” at the bottom of the post. But don’t worry…I won’t tell anyone.

    • Katy in a Corner

      May 28, 2014

      THANK YOU for the catch! I think I’ve burned out all of my current editors.

  4. Toni

    May 29, 2014

    Katy, you had me cracking up with “unleashing a monkey in a banana store” and just when I thought it couldn’t get any funnier … I could totally hear and picture Dr. Monotone and Dr. Dawdle in my mind’s ear and eye. It’s a gift and thanks for sharing it!


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