Health Anxiety

Hi everyone. Today in her Sunday Poser, Sadje asks us whether we deal with health anxiety. Health anxiety is excessive worry about one’s physical health. People who suffer from it, interpret normal bodily sensations or minor ailments as a sign of serious illness, such as cancer. There are people with health anxiety who are constantly running to the doctor, but also those who bury their heads in the sand and worry in silence.

As for whether I myself suffer from health anxiety, I used to suffer pretty badly. I could be a mix of the head in the sand type and the running to the doctor type. When I was nineteen, I remember having pretty bad anxiety one night and concluding I had some serious thing going on. My sister was in my room trying to comfort me, but not being able to figure out why I was having the symptoms I was having (most likely, a panic attack), drove me crazy. I don’t know why I didn’t peruse Dr. Google, but I didn’t. The next day, I called my GP, who wasn’t fully comforted either, particularly when she learned I have hydrocephalus. Long story short, three weeks later I got the all-clear on my shunt from a neurologist, but I never figured out what those weird symptoms were.

I also had bad health anxiety when living on my own in 2007. I, being the type for objectivity, at one point purchased a talking thermometer, so that at least I could take my body temp. After all, my parents used to have a rule about staying home from school: if you don’t run a fever, you aren’t sick.

Thankfully, most of my health anxiety went away once I was admitted to the psych hospital. I still worried about my health sometimes, but it wasn’t significantly distressing. My health anxiety didn’t return once I was kicked out of the hospital to live semi-independently with my spouse.

One thing I struggle with, is knowing when a symptom is significant enough to go to the doctor for or even when it’s abnormal. I for this reason can go months with a symptom before I actually ask my staff to call the doctor.

Since owning an Apple Watch, I don’t freak out when its values are abnormal. Like, back when I first used it in 2022, my oxygen levels often were way below the minimum normal value of 95%. Now they are usually high enough and I have had them checked with an actual oximeter several times. I might’ve had sleep apnea back then, but then again my night-time breathing rate according to my Apple Watch is usually higher than average, not lower. In any case, I am not one to consult my doctor just because my smartwatch says I might be ill. Maybe that’s burying my head in the sand, but I do feel fine generally.

I Am Overwhelmed

Yesterday I sat in front of my computer for an hour or more typing up a blog post, only to erase it again because I couldn’t find the proper words to finish it. Today I’m trying again.

I am horribly overloaded. To be honest, even the mere thought of having to write a blog post, adds to that. So why do I do it? I guess this post won’t get many views or much engagement at all, so why bother? Then again, I may be able to get my rollercoaster of emotions to slow down a bit if I write stuff down.

Last Saturday, I attended an online meeting of CP Netherlands, the national charity for people with cerebral palsy and their parents. I wasn’t sure whether to attend, as I’m not 100% sure my mobility impairment is severe enough to count as CP. Of course, the other attendees advised me to get a referral to a rehabilitation physician to find out.

Of course, just self-understanding isn’t a reason to get assessed for CP as an adult. However, I’m noticing that my mobility gets somewhat worse and I experience more pain. This could be my being overweight, of course. I will also get orthoses soon to help with the position of my feet. This might help.

In the meeting and later in the CP Facebook group, I shared how all my past professionals said my issues weren’t due to the disability they were assessing for. For example, the occupational therapist from the blindness agency said that my difficulties weren’t due to blindness. The OT for the psych hospital said my motor ability was more or less fine. At least, I didn’t have significantly less strength in my left hand than my right. The neurologist consulted when I earlier complained of worsening mobility, said it wasn’t my hydrocephalus either or if it was, my issues were not severe enough to warrant risky surgery. I agree. However, ultimately, my psychologist concluded everything was fine and I was just being dependent.

I asked my staff to talk to the physician for my facility and maybe the physical therapist about my mobility impairment. I after all do experience worsening pain and what may be spasticity. I’ll hopefully hear back soon.

Then today I experienced terrible sadness. I was overwhelmed by some sounds other clients made in the living room, but felt bad going to my room. My assigned staff said maybe I expect too much of myself. I mean, I’m half convinced that I’m deteriorating, which my staff doesn’t see. Maybe I indeed need to take a break. Lower the bar on my step goal now that my broken Fitbit won’t notice anyway. Stop wanting to write a blog post everyday, or really more than one. Be content with just two or three 20-minute walks a day and relaxing the rest of the day. I’m not sure. This feels so much like giving up.

The Summer After High School

It is still incredibly hot here. That is, it should be a lot cooler than it was yesterday. I’m not feeling it though. Probably my room, which is at the front of the house, keeps the heat.

I want to write, but I don’t know what about. For this reason, I looked up writing prompts for the month of June on Google. A prompt I liked is to share about the summer after you graduated high school.

This was in 2005. Man, can you believe it’s already been fourteen years? I remember finding these odd lists of things that mean you live in 2005, such as “You have lost touch with old friends simply because they don’t have an E-mail address”. E-mail is way outdated now. However, I think WordPress already existed, though I didn’t have an account. But I digress.

I graduated from high school on June 24, 2005. Two weeks prior, I had finished the assessment week at the country’s residential rehabilitation center for the blind and had been advised to attend their basic training program. It was expected that I couldn’t start until October.

However, in early August, I received a phone call telling me I could start on August 22. So that’s where I spent the last few weeks of the summer holiday and the rest of the year.

The summer of 2005 was also the summer I had a ton of health worries. Most of them were just health anxiety, but one of these scares did get me sent to a neurologist for suspected shunt malfunction. That was when I first learned about the possible impact of my hydrocephalus on my life. I never had a shunt malfunction *knock on wood*.

The summer of 2005, essentially, was the time I left my parental home and entered the care system. Even though I was supposed to get independence training, my father predicted I would never leave the care system. He was right, but so what?

Today, I had a meeting with the blindness agency which the rehabilitation center is part of to see if I can live with them. I won’t, because their living facilities are all over an hour’s drive from my husband. This meeting did remind me of how I entered the care system fourteen years ago with the aim of doing training for a year (at the center and an independence training home) and then leaving for Nijmegen to live completely independently. It didn’t work out. The disparity between this overly-normal, independent self, the one who is married now and doesn’t need help, and the multiply-disabled self, is still hard to deal with.