Hypochondria Cramp closes like an impenetrable fog over my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a breath. My chest expands, tightens. I wince, my hand flying to my breast over the empty space where my heart should be. Wait, no it's there, beating. As it should. Relief floods through me. But it is short lived. Each thump is uncomfortable. Out of time like a shitty drummer in an out of tune band. Oh god. I tighten my lips as an eerie spike was spangles over my chest. Oh god. A slow, spreading, steady burn. I clutch my smouldering heart in panic. It clatters along, a doddery cart horse, arthritic as it trots jarringly on glaring wet Tarmac. Heartburn. I suck in air and force the word to materialise in my aching (oh shit) head, but it wavers uncertainly as a mirage to a skeletal nomad in the sand dunes of the Sahara. Heartburn. Well yes, in the sense that my heart is burning. But it's not just burning. It stings, throbs, cramps, flips and stirs restlessly while I toss and turn in mute agony and wretched uncertainty. Someone runs their fingers over it, tapping lightly. I freeze. Their fingers pause, sensing my anxiety. They touch, press, now hard, digging, pushing, it squirms in protest-No! I'm fine, they said I was fine I must be fine. But imagine, says that dreadful voice, imagine the irony if despite all their reassurances you died anyway? It happens you know, so many stories I've read- Anomalies, I pant to myself. My chest smoulders. My eyes flick towards the phone. They said. They said to call if I was worried. God I'm worried. I'm so scared. Another cramp fists around my heart. Molten fear. My eyes ache from scrolling through the glaring depths of internet blogs-cybercondria, yes hilarious- my brain aches with newfound, dangerous knowledge. My chest spasms. They must be wrong. This kind of suffering isn't okay. They said I could call. But who's right? Are they right? Do I take the chance if they're not? Take no chances. I'm so young.. Who is right?
Kristina
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