May 8th, 2009



Another black star in my hypochondria book, no doubt. I have really tried to avoid going to doctors to let my reputation cool off, but I've never felt this kind of stomach pain in my life. So I called the emergency room and they said to stop by. I took a taxi to the other side of the city where they are, near the hospital. And of course, the pain faded during the taxi trip, and while I waited at the emergency room, it disappeared entirely. (I did "finally" become queasy though, but still haven't thrown up.) The doctor kneaded my stomach and surrounding areas but found nothing. This happens as regularly as clockwork: No matter how acutely ill I am, when I meet the doctor I am in perfect health, better than most healthy people. There must be something about the aura of those places that supernaturally buoys my health while there, or something. I KNEW this would happen, but it does not happen while I stay at home. I have to actually go destroy my credibility to get healed.

The doctor wrote a letter to my regular doctor. He did not have an explanation for the pain at all, but wanted me to get checked for "cholelithiasis" and for some discoloration of my skin that cannot possibly have anything to do with stomach pains. On the bright side, I walked briskly for half an hour from the hospital to the city, something I feel pretty sure I would not have done with a ruptured stomach. Or indeed any medical condition worth its Latin name. So apart from wasting a measly $250 or so, and further making sure nobody will take me seriously when I finally come down with Death, it was worth the trip.