My name is Sara and I'm a hypochondriac.

Lola called at 10:30pm Saturday night afraid that she had cancer. The specifics are unimportant, other than to say that I told her she was fine, that she did not have cancer, and that she was probably just pregnant in her leg. Ryan and I got in a... ahem... fight about it because he thinks it's selfish to freak someone out to tell them that you think you are dying when you obviously aren't, while I think it's selfish not to be there to tell someone they are fine. We got over it.

HOWEVER-

Should I ever tell you that I might:
a) have a skin eating fungus,
b) have a brain degenerative disease, or
c) suffer from the ever popular- disease no one has diagnosed yet,

the best and ONLY option is to:
a) tell me that I'm fine,
b) lie to me about it (as in, people who are in their 20's don't get skin eating funguses), and
c) tell me that I'm being crazy because I'm so DEFINATELY fine

and I'll be ok. Or at least call someone else and make them do the same thing.

Just, you know, for future reference.