Do I have cancer?

I found a lump at the base of my thumb.  Holy f***! It's f***ing cancer.

I asked the doctor and he said it was a ganglion cyst.  I don't believe him.  I know it's f***ing cancer!  F***!  I've got children!  What the f***!?

Three months ago, my daughter couldn't turn her neck.  She had a fever.  That night, I knew it was f***ing meningitis!  I just knew it!  F***!  The doctor was an hour away!  She'd never make it.  I'd never make it.

Just before my other daughter was born, my wife vomited multiple times, an unpredictable attack which repeatedly exploded throughout her second pregnancy.  I thought she was in labor, which would have been bad because she a had a C-section the first time.  Because of this, her OB/GYN said that her uterus could rupture, which meant she'd have something like four minutes to get to the hospital so the doctor could operate.  Oh, f***, f***, f***!  She'd never make it.  I'd never make it.

When I was thirteen, I was convinced I had developed a sexually-transmitted disease. I hadn't yet had sex, yet I was certain the discomfort I felt was syphilis. The sensation went away by afternoon and never returned. I'm still convinced it was syphilis. Just the kind that clears up in a day.

I'd like to say all this fret is just an exaggeration...but, it's not.  It's my Yid.

By the way, the pediatrician assured me it was not meningitis but still she was wrong.  My daughter's fever lasted two days and I've determined it has damaged her pre-frontal cortex.  It just sort of cleared up on its own and left her future impaired.  The ganglion cyst on my thumb is still likely a tumor.

Italian Adam says,"Fuhgeddaboudit."  My inner Yid says, "Oy." 

I was a bit high strung this past summer.  My wife's vomiting dilemma returned.  It's f***ing cancer.  Or her gall bladder disintegrated.  Or she's allergic to water.  We drove to the hospital.  It was some sort of rare chronic appendicitis.  I'm not convinced... That vomiting crap will be back.  It's just a matter of "when."  F***.

A week after that, my daughter's fever was back with a vengeance.  105 degrees.  F***!  We were in the emergency room again.  It's a kidney infection.  It's f***ing meningitis.  It's her premeditated method of inducing me into a panic attack. 

"Nope," said the doctor.  "Just some virus." 

I remained unswayed given his Australian-based schooling -nothing against Australians, of course. The fever went away but I knew it would be back.  Just a matter of "when."  F***!

A week later, I had shingles.  F***!  I couldn't touch the babies.  They'd get chicken pox.  My youngest daughter, at the time three months, had a bug bite that looked overwhelmingly like a chicken pox blister.  F***!  F***!  F***!  F***!

Maybe I have some issues...but if you don't ask the questions, how can you ever know?

Okay, you're right.  Calm...Breathe...Fuhgeddaboudit.

Hmmm...that's a new mole.  F***!

I better get some help.  The Yid is taking over.  "Relax, Daddy," they say.  They'll never make it.  I'll never make it.