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ExperientialApril 14, 2015

TV Taught Me: Dr House – Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love my Hypochondria

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Sophie Smith shares health lessons learned from watching House, and how the show both helped and hindered her struggle with hypochondria.

I have always been excessively anxious about my health. For as long as I can remember, any prolonged or acute headache has been followed by the declaration that I must have a brain tumour. Pain in my neck? Viral meningitis. The slightest abnormal test result? Tearful phone calls to both my mother and my aunt, and more frantic emails to my doctor (bless her for her patience with me). It took me a while, but I have come to terms with the fact that I am something of a hypochondriac.

I had always thought that people shared a similar level of anxiety about their health, but were just less vocal about it – to be honest, there is still an irrational part of me that thinks this is actually the case. According to WebMD (the top website on my favourites bar), “what hypochondriacs have trouble accepting is that normal, healthy people have symptoms. Hypochondriacs tend to be very aware of bodily sensations that most people live with and ignore. To a hypochondriac, an upset stomach becomes a sign of cancer and a headache can only mean a brain tumour.”

Hypo facebook page

For a long time I didn’t think it were possible for me to be a true hypochondriac, as those people (parodied on many a medical drama) are constantly ringing ambulances, always turning up in the emergency departments of hospitals, and repeatedly asking for test upon test to reassure themselves that they are healthy. But when I looked back at my track record from the last 12 months (11 unnecessary GP visits, and seven blood tests that showed nothing abnormal, apart from a slight vitamin B12 deficiency), there does seem to be something of a pattern.

I can joke about and make light of my hypochondria when I have been reassured that I’m healthy. But when I’m in a downward spiral of anxiety – thinking something is seriously wrong with me – it can be a very unpleasant mental trip indeed.

With all that in mind, you might think that I would shy away from medical dramas, especially shows that focus so heavily on the actual illnesses, like House. However, since House began in 2004, I have had a sick fascination with the show. House terrifies me, sure, but it has gripped me like very few other shows in my life.

I always preferred it to the likes of Grey’s Anatomy, which convey very little medical amongst the drama. When it comes down to it, I like House because of the wealth of medical trivia it comprises, though I am aware that there is still a lot of drama amongst the medical. House would have you believe that everyone bleeds out their eyes and passes out in a seizure before they are even admitted to hospital.

Although House hasn’t really helped me improve the level of anxiety that I feel about my health, it has helped me work through and come to terms with my hypochondria. I can tell you that my sense of humour about the whole issue has been vastly ameliorated after eight seasons of House. For example, I can now laugh about this droll definition, rather than working myself into a tailspin as it prompts me to remember the disease or condition on the episode of House that I most recently re-watched (toxoplasmosis):

House Hypochondriac Urban Dictionary

Much like the popularity of the horror film genre, I am drawn to House because it frightens me. On the one hand, House does make me worry about conditions and diseases that I’m very unlikely to have (rationally I know that it would be very unusual for the average person in New Zealand to contract African Sleeping Sickness, but at the time I was entirely convinced). But on the other hand, exposure and normalisation to the idea of disease helps me to work through my anxiety.

I don’t rely on House for all my medical information of course (I know the writers take a few artistic liberties), but it has become something of a springboard from which I investigate the things that interest me. The more informed I am, the less scary illness is to me in general.

Top lessons I have learned from House (that continue to haunt me everyday):

Lesson One
Don’t eat too many Brazil nuts. One gripping case involved a secret agent who had traveled to South America, and had been struck down with a series of dramatic symptoms. He ended up looking like this:

Selenium poisoning

Moral of this story, if you don’t want to look like this and then die, don’t eat too many Brazil nuts. Brazil nuts contain a high concentration of selenium, and too many of them can give you selenium poisoning. I have always remembered this episode and parroted this fact, because I find it so interesting, and I really like Brazil nuts.

Selenium in small amounts is an essential nutrient for humans, but it isn’t present in NZ soil, so supplementing a small amount by eating Brazil nuts is very beneficial. Though no more than two or three Brazil nuts a day! I couldn’t exceed this dosage anyway (so expensive amirite?), but for the high rollers out there buying nuts left and right, don’t go crazy on the Brazil variety, lest you end up like Secret Agent 03 from House.

Lesson Two
If you are diving and come across sunken treasure, especially an unopened jar, do not retrieve it and bring it to the surface. It will be from a sunken slave ship, and it will contain pox spores. This was another fascinating case in which a teenage girl broke a jar that she found in a shipwreck dive (the most obvious lesson here is be careful with glass, it can be brittle after hundreds of years underwater), cut her hand, and exposed her open wound to some weird spore-ridden paper.

She immediately contracts Rickettsialpox, which presents similarly to smallpox. What a nightmare! But it’ll never happen to me, because I now know better than to pick up old jars in shipwrecks. I’d say you could extrapolate this lesson and generally avoid opening jars with weird stuff inside them. You never know, someone could be trying to assassinate you with anthrax as well.

Pox spores

There was a diving storyline in another episode, in which someone did a decompression dive and then immediately boarded a plane. I’m sure everyone who dives knows this, but WAIT the recommended time before you get on a plane! The bends is no joke, as I learned from House. I employed this knowledge a few years ago in Thailand, though perhaps to an excessive extent (the recommended waiting times are most likely accurate, and upon reflection we probably didn’t need to flag that Air Asia flight).

Lesson Three
Avoid pork, any undercooked or raw meats, and raw fish. You will contract tapeworms. Many of my close friends know that tapeworms disgust me to no end, and I think House may have been the initial trigger for my revulsion. In the first episode of season one, they dive right in with a tapeworm case. The patient contracted them by eating ham. To this day I don’t have much of a fondness for ham.

Tapeworm

I also learned a valuable tip from this episode, if you think you have a tapeworm infestation (blergh), then X-ray your thigh. Apparently tapeworms show up on normal X-rays, and they love them some thigh meat.

Lesson Four
A good rule of thumb is that if any part of you turns yellow, your liver is probably not working. Often this first occurs in the whites of your eyes before your skin. The technical term for this is jaundice, and can occur for a bunch of different reasons, most often to do with some kind of liver problem. This came in real world useful when I was able to diagnose my father’s liver failure and get him to the hospital stat. True story.

Copper rings

So basically, if you suddenly think you have developed schizophrenia – check your eyeballs for orange rings. This means your liver is not processing copper properly, and you do not have schizophrenia, thank goodness for that!

Lesson Five
Pharmacists make mistakes. Always check that your medication looks like what it’s supposed to look like, because it’s estimated that pharmacist error accounts for up to 7,000 deaths in the United States per year. House had a case where this guy’s cough medicine looked very similar to gout medication, and too high a dose of the gout medication gave him colchicine poisoning – which mimics arsenic poisoning.

Medication mix up

You wouldn’t believe the number of embarrassing incidents this has caused for me at my local Amcal, between opening up the packets for closer inspection, and asking the pharmacist to double check it’s the right pill.

Lesson Six
Don’t look up your symptoms online and then tell the doctors what you think is wrong with you. House has taught me that when people self-diagnose, the doctors probably just give them a placebo anyway. That’ll teach all us self-diagnosers a lesson!

Placebos

Probably the most important thing I have learned from watching House that has a direct real world consequence, is that doctors hate it when people self-diagnose. This, of course, goes against all my natural instincts as a hypochondriac. But the number of times my own doctor has told me not to look up my symptoms online seems to corroborate this running theme in House.

Although a bit of self-diagnosis can help me to alleviate my anxiety, the phrase, “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” seems to apply. More often than not, I’ll end up at the conclusion that I have three types of cancer and an infectious disease because I have a sore stomach and a bit of a headache.

House has really drilled it into me that doctors know what they are doing (I hear they do a fair few years of training), and mostly the obvious answer is probably the right one. I am by no means a reformed hypochondriac. I’m definitely still affected by anxiety about my health. But my House obsession has allowed me to confront the beast head on, and have a bit of a laugh about it on the way.

Gotta go, I’m running a slight fever that needs consulting on WebMD.

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Afghanistan

ColumnsApril 9, 2015

The Client List: James Milne’s Date With Jennifer Love-Hewitt – Week Three

Afghanistan

In the third of a five-part series – here are parts one and two – James Milne signs up to watch Jennifer Love Hewitt’s cancelled borderline softcore porn series The Client List in its entirety. //

I am a seeker of joy. I yearn to transcend society’s material concerns; to live a life strange and pure and full of found wisdoms that I will not decipher until the moment of my death; to leap into the chilly waterfalls of epiphany without considering my step; to harness abilities which I cannot understand to create things of which I never could have dreamed. Everywhere my life takes me I seek this sublime joy. Will I find it in season two, episodes one to five, of The Client List?

To centre my spirit on this quest, as episode one begins, I call upon the words of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, as paraphrased by John Lennon: “Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.” I let all earthly thoughts recede into a blackness that is terrifying yet womblike as I wait for a barely perceptible second or two while the show buffers.

The images hit me unfiltered by the cognitive organisation of my left brain, leaving pure impulses. What I am viewing here is a beautiful woman/energy force who radiates love and generosity towards all her fellow beings; who attracts such adoration that it is scarcely credible that she exists. Around her, in orbit, heavenly bodies are floating in televisual dark matter (or “dross”), held to her by the bonds of unthinking admiration that they all emit, such is the power of her own emanations.

This imagery is so overwhelming, so far from my own recognisable reality, that my mind turns automatically back on and I cease to float downstream, for reasons of my own sanity. As my consciousness returns, the episode is still playing on my laptop; things seem normal and mundane; all is well with the world.

Arrested

But all is not well in the world of Riley Parks. Kyle, back from his self-imposed exile, has been arrested for ripping off some copper wire from an old employer. He’s stuck in Harris County Jail, with Riley having to re-finance their home to pay for a decent defence attorney and the bail, which ends up being denied anyway. The situation is challenging to say the least, but, despite her anger in person, Riley, in her actions, continues to stand by her man. Her nobility in this cause, and desire to keep her children protected from the truth about their deadbeat father, is hugely frustrating.

The romance between her and Evan, finally just budding on the vine at the end of season one, is seriously hampered by Kyle’s return, Riley receiving seemingly constant poorly-timed calls from the county jail just when they’re about to make out. Riley assures Evan that they’re “in a good place,” but the sexual tension has clearly ebbed out of the situation and my blobbed-out uncritical self is kind of deflated about this.

No Vibe

I have written in my notes in large all-caps the word “ADOLESCENCE”. Something about the Evan situation, where he’s so in love with Riley but so out of control of what’s happening in their relationship and so beholden to her whims, reminds me of a teenaged heartbreak of my own. This was a heartbreak engendered by my own inexperience, and Evan too seems to act in a way that is naive and adolescent.

My thought about the concept of adolescence spreads to my perceptions of the whole show. The Client List can be viewed as a series of fantasies created by and/or for the adolescent mind. The fantasy of a woman wanting a handsome man to fight with his fists to win her love; of the star quarterback marrying the high school beauty queen; of a totally dysfunctional marriage being worth saving “for the sake of the children”; of it being ethically acceptable (and totally hot) to have sexual relations with a college professor, or a licensed massage therapist.

The show makes plays at realism too, which my adolescent self could maybe have bought – my jaded older self less so. A military veteran with untreated Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder flips out in the spa and is brought back down by Derek, the hunky new masseur at The Rub, who happens to have done three tours in Afghanistan. (I knew Afghanistan would crop up!) Riley’s mother Linette has a car accident and her health insurance has lapsed due to changes in conditions at the hair salon where she works, leaving her with considerable medical bills.

Afghanistan

The Client List’s noble yet ultimately stillborn attempts to inject these kind of real issues into the plot of the show only serve to highlight that the bones of the show are pure fantasy. Adolescence too is built on fantasy. The fantasy of being someone else, someone older, someone attractive to the people you’re attracted to. Lurid sexual fantasies, absurd megalomaniacal fantasies of future glories, fantasies of smiting one’s nemeses with a brutal punch to the face. The Client List embodies these kinds of fantasies in a way that must fulfill a profound need for some people. Right now in my life, I don’t think I have that need.

So what am I left with? Well, mainly a plot that is developing at an agonisingly slow pace, with characters (esp. Riley and Evan) that constantly repeat the same mistakes and actions, retreading old territory, failing to make any necessary developments that would progress the series in a way that is exciting for the viewer.

Television writers have the awesome power to send their characters on journeys unthinkable to real people, and have them develop in ways that can be confounding, unexpected or inspiring. When the writers of The Client List put Riley Park into that naughty spa, it was an unlikely scenario that could have led to unimaginably bizarre and thrilling destinations. But the character of Riley Park is so hamstrung by her Texan wholesomeness and abiding Christian morality that really nothing truly stunning can happen to her. She and her fictional friends move inevitably along the railway lines of fate to the show’s inevitable cancellation.

Lightbox users, add The Client List to your client list by clicking here

Everyone else, join James on his journey by clicking here to start your free trial (12 months for Spark customers, 30 days for everyone else)