The characters Woody Allen portrays are typically notorious hypochondriacs. He always thinks he's dying from some dreaded illness. And it's usually nothing. But he always thinks he's dying. Oh my, yes.
And then it hit me, suddenly, right after I got off the phone with my doctor just now. See, I've been having these ever-increasing, terrible earaches just in my right ear for like 3 months which wake me up from sleep, whether it's at night or when I'm taking a nap (which is, like, always). It's this sharp, shooting pain. The frequency is increasing to 4-5 times a week. It goes away once I'm upright, But sometimes when I'm waking up in the morning, my vision is like a movie reel. It's shifting up and down quickly, usually when I have these earaches, when I'm looking at my iPhone and cringing that yet again, I'd slept until 11:00 in the morning. Otherwise, it's not throwing off my equilibrium or impairing my vision any worse than it's already impaired.
Such so happened last night, and I was so a) awake and b) aggravated, I emailed my doctor. (The capacity to email doctors with questions has to be THE worst advance in medical technology ever invented for patients like me, who ALWAYS have something wrong with them.)
I am a Woody Allen character.
In my email, I said this: "I'm getting convinced I either have some type of disgusting, lurking parasite in my head or a brain tumor."
When, usually, the end result is more like this:
I don't have a cold. I haven't had a cold in a very long time. It's not my allergies. SOMETHING HAS INVADED MY HEAD. The doctor looked in my ear a couple of months ago and said I didn't have an ear infection or a build up of wax. He couldn't figure out why I had these earaches.
I'm all behind in my therapy notes and paperwork, I have a residency weekend at school for a class all weekend, and my depressive episode....today, at least....was one of those mixed-mood episodes (ultradian cycling, where you go from one mood to another in a matter of hours) where I either just want to sleep and cry all day, or I literally laugh at everything. EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING.
It's like the maniacal laughter in the background of Pink Floyd's "Brain Damage/Eclipse." I cackle.
The lunatic is in my head. Or the brain tumor. Or maybe just a huge chunk of wax. I'll call for an appointment tomorrow.