There are people who notice a small round brown spot on their body and think “Hmm. Freckle,” and then there are people who swallow hard, start to nervous cough, and hit the keyboard, typing in “freckle.brown.new.stomach.”
We are the Web Doctor alarmists. Why assume it’s nothing when we can Web Doctor it and be told to get our affairs in order and make amends? (By the way, search out “caskets.cheap” while you’re putting yellow post-it notes on who gets what from your necklace collection).
Web Doctor sites don’t teach a gentle lesson—their target audience is not the common-sense kind. No, we are the ones who want to know “WHAT ARE MY CHANCES?? Will I make it to my son’s high school graduation? I ask you, WILL I??”
The Internet is extraordinary and Googling is great. When I need to find out hours for the library, I check out my library’s website. When I need soccer cleats for my boys that won’t interfere with my Starbucks budget, I search for “family sports shoes. cheap.” But Web Doctors, even if all you want is the low-down on pimple care, will offer you the serious ailment of the day. Because why not?
I want to break my online Doctor dependence—I want to go back to the land of watch and wait. It’s not a good thing when your kids start coming to you, holding out a scratched finger, asking you to “Google it, Mama—it could be worse than a paper cut!”
See, I’m going to start listening to what my instincts are telling me: quit the Web Doctor cray-cray. They never tell you anything good. You won’t read a paragraph that begins “Pshaw. You worry wart. It’s gonna be fine! No need for big toe amputation—most likely just a pebble stuck in your shoe.”
I like my life, I love my life. I don’t want it imaginarily cut short because of a sensitive ingrown toenail. The thing with me is that everything I read, I remember, and this “oh my god!” with each twinge of pain I feel is going to kill me. Until Web Doctor starts listing possible causes of back pain as “Bad Mattress” along side “Spinal Degeneration”, Ima gonna stay off.
The voice I want to hear in my head from now on is not “Heeeeeere’s your death,” but the reasonable one that says “Take it easy, let’s see what the doctor says.”
Why bury myself before I have to? I hereby declare today “Take My Life Back Day”, and I will begin by swearing off of Web Doctor. It’s the only road back to a fatdumbandhappy existence again.
I miss that. Now, please help me ignore this tender elbow pain I’ve been having.