On illness
Category: You Don't Know Jack

As an admitted hypochondriac it was not unusual for Jack to spend any particular day laboring under the misconception that he had somehow contracted an odd, unusual, or downright freaky disease. At the slightest hint of a cough, Jack would run to what he referred to as “The Bible,” an outdated but very well-loved copy of the 1947 classic “A Guide to Modern Medicine and Illnesses.”

Within minutes Jack would cross reference his symptoms and diagnose the problem. If Jack was missing a symptom here or there, he need only wait a couple more minutes. Suddenly those missing symptoms would miraculously appear. Jack was a self-diagnosis expert.

His contraction of these diseases was further exacerbated by his near paralyzing fear of doctors. While quick blood-tests and common sense would have limited his “sick” time, Jack resisted the doctor’s office and instead chose to tough it out.

Over the years Jack had thrice been the victim of yellow fever. His prolonged battle with Rabies accounted for much of 1998. Small Pox and Lime disease ripped two more years from him. None of this was new, however. Since as far back as Jack could remember he was always sick.

Jack was the product of a broken home. His mother, a nurse, was the sole bread winner for the family. Her unforgiving schedule and her need to pick up as much overtime as possible left Jack motherless on many an evening. On these nights Jack’s older sister, Jill, was charged with his safety. Jill took her responsibilities LITERALLY. Safety – that’s all. There would be no entertainment. There would be no mothering. If Jack’s tongue was clear of the electrical socket, Jill had done her job. The closest to entertainment that Jack got was a hearty game of “dodge that book.” It was in one of these much-cherished games that Jack’s life would be changed forever.

It was round three. In rounds one and two Jack had successfully dodged two small and unnaturally aerodynamic books. He was now growing cocky. Jill, increasingly growing impatient with her little brother’s energy, grabbed the biggest book she could find, “The Guide to Modern Medicine and Illnesses.” Jill was slight of build, but you would have never known it watching that book fly across the room. Somehow she had channeled the spirit of an East German discus thrower. Jack tried to duck but there was no time.

Minutes later Jack regained consciousness. Luckily a woozy Jack and his now-concerned sister had just the tool they needed. In a twist of fate the weapon had become the cure. No bleeding. Check the pupils. Hmmm. They’re not reacting. Clearly a concussion. Over the pleas and then threats of his sister, Jack called his mother. She rushed home.

That evening Jack learned that if he was sick, his mother stayed home and tended to him. For the next few years Jack studied the book. He would read about flus, colds, indigestion, etc. and he would masterfully mimic the symptoms.

It’s not exactly clear when Jack lost his grip on the pretending portion of the scam, but it was early. By the time that Jack was nine, he no longer used the book to fake a flu. He had progressed to being convinced he had some of the rarer and more exotic diseases.

He spent the rest of his childhood suffering from Polio. Middle school brought diverticulitis. High School was particularly bleak due to his Tourette's, an illness that did not amuse his “Dickhead Motherfucking Monkey Wanking” teachers. His college years were robbed from him by his seven different bouts of Mononucleosis.

His post college years brought no relief from his string of ailments. By the age of 34, despite still being a virgin, Jack had at one time or another suffered from Gonorrhea, Chlamydia, Syphilis, Herpes, Genital Warts, and HPV. However, these STDs were shockingly routine when compared to his not one but two pregnancy scares.

Ordinary folk would begin to question their use the tattered and well-loved GTMMAI. Jack, however, lived by his bible. If Jack woke up with nausea, morning sickness, swelling, bloating, and it had clearly been more than thirty days since his last period, Jack was, in fact, pregnant. In a cruel twist of fate, Jack’s color-blindness, the only malady from which he actually suffered, hampered his ability to see pink from blue. In those rare cases, Jack broke his long-standing rule and visited the doctor. He made peace with those visits as he comforted himself with the knowledge that it was “for the baby.”

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