D.I.Y Diagnoses

It’s sad to admit, but our 21st Century society has become nothing short of a bevy of neurotic hypochondriacs… or should I say cyberchondriacs. Alas, for I speak of internet diagnoses!

For years when people had health problems a simple appointment with their doctors would suffice but now (oh how things have changed!), now we speak of our GP’s with a wave of fear in our words. “Go see a doctor!”, they’d say – what used to be nothing more than 4 words of simple encouragement has turned into a phrase of dread, as if your loved ones have turned against you, summoning you to the dark depths of hell!

Phewy chop suey, it was just a dream! But it isn’t, it’s reality. So what do we do (well, I say we, I mean most men…)? We decide to take matters into our own hands and diagnose the problem ourselves. That’s right, instead of confiding in someone who’s had years of medical training we decide to google (other search engines are available) the blooming thing so as to allow everyone to see several pages of ‘testicular pain’ filling up your history like some sort of nightmarish shopping list! I mean, why oh why do we assume that for some barmy reason we’re going to find:

  1. the correct diagnosis
  2. the diagnosis we want to hear
It’s ridiculous! Especially seeing as though none of the above ever, ever occur. You go to look for explanations to the pain in your knee only to discover that you’ve got a rare case of kneelusdownus-toomuchius, which if not treated properly you could lose the bottom half of your leg! Likewise, your neck feels sore every time you turn it… diagnosis? Only the unlikeliest of problems – disagreeingitus, which apparently if not looked after in the right way you could spend the rest of your life neither agreeing nor disagreeing with things!
One day you’re well… next day you’re under the weather… day after that and you’re worm food.
So if you wish to stay healthy then visit the Doctor and not Jeeves!
(Told you other search engines were available, it’s just up to yahoo to decide which one’s best!)
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Wrestling with insomnia…

Wrestling with insomnia…

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Even with a digital clock in my room I can still hear the monotonous drones of a second hand working its way round the vicious circle of my sleeplessness. Chained to the bed in a straitjacket of my own inner-turmoil I toss and turn searching for the answers to release me from this incarceration of insomnia, but, sadly (or rather typically), none are forthcoming. In an ideal world I wouldn’t be conscious enough to notice the valuable hours of sleep slowly slipping away in a countdown to inevitable fatigue and agitation the following morning – in fact my shop front should have been well and truly shut hours ago but instead the sleep-stealing delinquents are about doing their worst… and I’m helpless to intervene!

Too confusing to count...

“Why don’t you count sheep?” they’ll ‘helpfully’ suggest “it’ll make you so bored you’ll want to sleep!” Oh hardy harrr Mr. Sagacious! Well, I’ve tried counting sheep many times before but, believe me, it never works – 1 sheep… 2 sheep… 3 sheep… I mean, logically, it should be a simple remedy for my restlessness however the problem I have is that I always end up over-complicating matters. Instead of systematically going: 1 sheep… 2 sheep… 3 sheep… it’s much more chaotic, like this: 1 sheep… 2 sh- no 3 sh- no 6 sheep… where the heck are all these sheep coming from!? Where sanity would normally prevail, I’m left picturing sly ewes slipping under the fence while others hide behind their friends as they leap for freedom! You see, I’m far too busy wondering where the hell the blooming shepherd is who’s abandoned his flock than to be in a relaxed frame of mind to rest my weary head! Actually, d’you know what, I’d like to find the person who concocted this farcical means for curing insomnia and give ’em a good slap round the chops! Ok, maybe that’s going a bit too far. Please forgive me for my extreme anxiety but I didn’t sleep well last night as there was a series of rogue sheep on the loose; filling my darkened sky like fluffy clouds of unease… how I despise them! Come on, surely there must be an alternative?

“Make yourself a nice warm drink!” Mmmmm… warm cocoa… warm milk… warm Robinson’s Blackcurrant… Like with counting sheep, I’m pretty certain that there are many of you out there who find the abovementioned drinks very soothing when it comes to hitting the sack, yes? Well not me. Either I’ve developed some sort of immunity to them or the rascals at Horlicks have laced my hot chocolate with a heavy dosage of e-numbers; knowing full well that I won’t be able to get a good night sleep which, in turn, will turn into a 3 hour, non-stop Angry Birds fest! Not only that but whenever I indulge in a nice warm drink I’m overcome with a sudden urge to reach high into the heavens of the biscuit tin. I don’t know about you but feeling bloated after gorging yourself on chocolate fancies is not the best way to help you to sleep… damn you Horlicks! Come on, surely there must be another alternative?!

Aha, but of course! How could I have been so blind?! Alas, for I have found my saviour in white! A refreshingly new face, an inviting smile bearing the necessary powers to seduce me to sleep. “Who is this force you speak off?”, only the cool side of the pillow! Where have you been all this time? Why have I hidden you away for so long? So many questions needn’t be answered as the most important problem has been solved – my insomnia. Wrestled to the ground I have managed to smother my wakefulness with a the warmer side of the pillow; suffocating it and moulding it into blissful dreaming!

Thank you Billy D Williams, you really have helped me to drift on off to dreamland and for that I am eternally grateful!