At the age of 28 I discovered a cure for hypochondria: I married a nurse.
It turns out that for the most part, all I needed was a withering look from a medical professional every now and again to reassure me that I wasn’t dying. Better to get it at home than to trouble the GP.
I trace my hypochondriac tendencies back to a hernia operation at the age of 10. I had been a nervous child even before then, but being sent to the local hospital for urgent surgery put my anxiety levels through the roof.
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