I’m swearing off health news, health advice, Dr. Oz, my second cousin in nursing school who calls me in the middle of the night to tell me about glioblastomas, and my friend T. who finished his intern year and thinks sick people should just be killed, even if they only have a hangnail.

I don’t know but I’m scared shitless.  I’m the special kind of hypochondriac.  The one who never sees doctors but wonders when her good fortune of great health would run out.  I was watching the news (my first big mistake of the day) and caught the tail end of the tragic death of a young girl (only 24) from uterine cancer.  I didn’t even know people her age would get it, much less die from it.

And then I answered a long distance phone call (my second big mistake of this xaar day).  A dude I knew from high school’s brother dies after a six month battle with leukemia, the second fucking person younger than me dying of that soul-sucking illness.

I know, I know, it sounds like I’m dealing with mortality issues now that I’m getting on in the years, getting long in the tooth, and all the other mean-ass cliches about being older than 16.  But I really am not.  I’m just developing this horror-fear-nausea-disgust-numbness response to news about sickness and sick people.

Finally, I check my e-mail (third and final mistake of a marathon stupidity day) and it has a scanned article from some magazine from my younger brother .  Yes, the same donkey who was supposed to find a nice girl this past summer, make my parents some grandchildren and get them off my paranoid back.  Noooo, he doesn’t go out and find this nice girl, instead, he clips an article about a woman who gets the human version of mad cow disease 20 years after she became a dedicated vegetarian.

I don’t eat red meat now but I did when I was a kid because that’s what we bloody ate at home.  Mad cow, mad goat, mad squirrel.  There is nothing I can do about that now, is there?  Thanks brother, I hope you are stalked by a mad neighbour in spandex.