Hypochondria: It's inevitable with age.

Hypochondria: the belief that real or imagined physical symptoms are signs of a serious illness, despite medical reassurance and other evidence to the contrary.

Boomer husband: (lifting shirt and pointing to a mole on his side) What's this look like to you?
Boomer's wife: A mole honey. It looks like a mole.
Boomer husband: You sure?
Boomer's wife: Pretty sure. You've asked me about it before.
Boomer husband: Yeah, but it looks a little different now, and...it kind of itches. Plus, it used to be circular. Now, it resembles the state of Texas!
Boomer's wife: If you're worried about it, go to the doctor.
Boomer husband: What? The doctor? Oh, hell no!

This scenario must happen quite often and not only in my house. Loretta and I have similar conversations with some regularity. Sometimes it's over a mole. Other times it concerns some new "twinge" here or there. That word: "twinge". It's the scourge of Baby Boomers. "Ooooh! Shit, what was that?"

Is it inevitable that we will all become hypochondriacs with age? To some extent, I think so. Every little itch, red mark, cough, sneeze, scab, or twinge is perceived as some life threatening (ending) malady. Most of the time, this hypochrondriacal (not a real word, I just made it up) feeling soon passes and all is well in Boomerland. Other times, if it persists for more than a week or two, it may be a real (or imagined) sign of something more nefarious, in which case, a visit to the doctor may be advised.

For me, Loretta has to drag me kicking and screaming to the doc. But, I only go when I'm "forced" to, ie, an annual meet and greet with the doctor to renew prescriptions. Here's a recent conversation in the examining room:

Doc: How've you been feeling?
Me: Great. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Doc: Yeah, I guess so...since I haven't seen you for over two years! (scold, scold).
Me: Sorry. (feigned chuckle)
Doc: Please don't let it go so long next time. We really should see you at least once a year.

The last comment presented to me as leaned over the examining table on my elbows, preparing for that dreaded intrusion of an orifice not preformed since 1973...at least not by a stranger!

So be it. We've all known hypochondriacs (of any age) in person or portrayed in comedy scenes in the movies and television. Evidently, it's a real condition (sometimes serious and debilitating) concerning real or imagined health maladies. Is there an opposite of hypochondria? If there is, I must have it. Hyperchondria? The real or imagined feeling that there is never anything seriously wrong with you? Or, Stupidchondria? Unconcerneditis? Doctorous Fearous?

I know I'm not Superman. I know I must see the doc more regularly now. But(t), part of that exam felt like he was using a Louisville Slugger and not his middle finger!

By the way, my prostate was deemed "OK". Unfortunately, that could change tomorrow I suppose. Maybe if he at least bought me a drink first. Might make that indignity a little easier to accept next time!