For the constant worrier, needless paranoia compounds a problem even further; all a useless expenditure of precious time and unwarranted energy, which serves no purpose in changing the outcome of any situation. Thinking things through in a constructive manner may resolve certain dilemmas, but being a worrywart can only give the prospective individual agita, leading to peptic ulcers or a visit to the looney bin.
The Internet is a massive harbinger of unwanted paranoia through the ease of finding the outcomes of various circumstances, by the myriad of search engines available. Got a problem? Do a search on Yahoo or Google about your predicament. After going through mounds of the same cut-and-pasted, long-winded soliloquies, the answer for what is troubling can be far and in between all the mumbo jumbo plastered around the net. Yet, can all that is read on the Web be construed as the written truth? Anything can be placed on a page along the Information Super-highway, written by a charlatan and presented in a logical, straightforward fashion to be quite believable.
I’m a worrywart due to my perpetual procrastination, suffering anxiety while thinking and pushing off until tomorrow, what needs to be done by a certain deadline in the near future, scrambling at the last minute to get it done. Then, if a health problem springs up, or a new pain or ache in the body develops, paranoia rears its ugly head and sends all kinds of vivid scenarios through my brain, landing me behind the computer to search the Net for what might be the cause of it all.
Getting old is no help either. Something different nags me everyday, only to subside to a tolerable level. Most of the time the latest bamboozlement disappears, thanking my lucky stars; but the ones that stay for a bit lends to all sorts of unruly apprehension. Not only is the plethora of information found on the Inter-webs—valid or not—responsible for seeding my chronic worrying, my bathroom reading material, the AARP’s monthly magazine, plants considerable paranoia within my psyche in that I’ve not reached any particular paranoiac point yet; but in the sustainable future, the possibility of harrowing detriment, as described within the esteemed periodical, could become a reality.
The latest paranoically induced melee resulted in the shower with my finding a tick lodged firmly into my right buttock. Removing it directly, head and all, as a result of my proficiency in extracting them from several of my past animals over the years, I began to worry about Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and Lyme’s Disease, searching the Web for info about each and what their symptoms might be.
Both exhibit rashes unique to the respective disorder. Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever displays ugly spots on ankles, wrists and forearms; where Lyme’s Disease sports a bull’s-eye sort of skin eruption, encircling the original tick bite, preceded by fever and flu-like symptoms. The dreaded anomalies are specific to deer ticks, not wood ticks; for which I didn’t determine what was pulled out of my butt, dropping the nit down the drain beforehand.
Having been bitten by ticks before, especially a deer tick that gave me fever for a day, I wasn’t too worried about it; although, I kept an eye out for any type of rash to develop. I had just gotten over bronchitis a couple of weeks earlier, and was hoping not to get sick again. Roughly five days later, I developed a rash, not spotted nor bull’s-eye shaped, but spread throughout both undersides of my forearms, along my feet and ankles, and partially around my waist. Now prolific paranoia set in big-time!
To be continued.