I'm thirty years old and I have a Hello Kitty bandaid on my ass.

I feel like a hypochondriac but I can prove it's not true because I never go to the doctor. World's most retarded hypochondriac maybe. I like to think of myself as a scientist who considers all possibilities. Today I have considered severe allergic reaction to three medicines, a bug, and a chemical; chickenpox; mumps; fibromyalgia; reflex sympathetic dystrophy; general immune system fuckupery; anaphylaxis; madness; shingles, and mysterious creeping itchy death. I can't believe I have to live in agonizing side-effect hell because a fucking bug bit me. That is my fascinating saga, the end.