Hypochondriac

When I was little, there were many a times I was sure I was dying from something. Sometimes I wasn't dying. I was just deformed. I hope I wasn't the only one. At some point, didn't you think you had some horrible rare disease that you were dying from?

I thought that I literally had a box in my throat that was filled with "voice". If I talked too much, I would run out of "voice". My box would be empty and I wouldn't be able to speak anymore-until the next morning of course when my voice box would fill up on more "voice" in the middle of the night while I slept. Unfortunately for my parents and siblings, this theory didn't keep me from talking constantly. Shocking that I never really ran out of voice!

And of course, don't all skinny girls think that their wrist and ankles protruding through their skin ridiculously far are deformed or extra bones that shouldn't be there at all? Just the other day Gwen was trying to push my ankle in with her pointer finger while saying "yucky." Okay, so maybe I am still self-conscious about my super skinny limbs.

But the worst of all was when I was little and saw myself swallow while looking in the bathroom mirror. I sat in the bathroom shocked. Wondering, why my throat made that weird up-down movement when I swallowed. I would put my hand over my throat and swallow again and feel my throat go in then out. It repulsed me. I was sure then and there that I was going to die from a deformed throat.

The other day when Gabriella came to me telling me there was something really wrong, I was quite worried. She looked serious and she had a concerned look on her face.

She said "Mommy I don't feel right. I think I need medicine."

I said, "Gabs what's the matter?"

Then she hiccuped and said, "My feelings hurt from hiccups."

She thought her hiccups were an illness. And that made her sad. It made me feel normal. At least I'm not the only one who got scared by perfectly normal things.

But today, I wasn't prepared for what unfolded. Ever since Gwen broke her arm, every minor scratch or scrap is a big deal needing bandages and first aid. What was once a bruise is now "broken." Well, today while Gwen was napping, we were outside. Gabriella bumped her head while playing...a very soft, barely any impact kind of bump. She told me that her head was broken and that she needed a bandage. She ran inside. I waited outside. Minutes later she came back all bandaged up.

Yes, that would be a 5T size sticker from some new pants. Apparently, that bandage made her feel all better.

So, if for any reason you don't see us or hear from us in awhile, it's probably because we're dying from hiccups, or we've broken our heads.