I can distinctly remember telling my dad that I had a brain tumor. "It's not a tumor." He would say to me in his best Arnold accent. (You haven't lived until you hear a Mexican immitate an Austrian.) For 1 whole year I complained to my dad about my brain tumor. My head always hurt in the exact same spot, every day. My best friend would come by my house and ask me, "Wanna go to the park? Or is your tumor acting up again?" And I complained and complained and complained about it, but my dad never listened. Well, as luck would have it, my tumor miraculously dissipated. All of those prayers to JP2 must have helped.

That was the same week that I developed a flesh eating disease called Necrotizing fasciitis, also known as group A streptococcus. "Daddy, I have Strep-A." That's what I called it. But he just thought I was trying to speak like a Canadian. As in, "Daddy, I have Strep. Eh!" And he would say, "Go eat a spoon full of honey. It'll help for your sore throat. And quit speaking like a Canadian. We're from the other border country." And I would say, "No, Daddy, not Strep Throat. Strep-A. As in Group A streptococcus. As in Necrotizing facitits. " "Mija, where do you learn all of these words?" "From the Merck Manual that you gave to me." "Mija, I gave you that Merck Manual so that you could look up diseases and figure out that you didn't have any of them. Not so that you could diagnose yourself with new ones." "Well, Daddy, I looked in there and according to the manual I have a flesh eating disease." "Well then go wash your hands." "Daddy, I have a FLESH EATING DISEASE and that's all you can think to say to me?" "No. I also want you to go do your homework. Oh yeah, and give me back my Merck Manual." And by the miracle of God, Himself, my Strep-A finally went away, 2 weeks later. All of those prayers to the Virgin of Guadalupe must have helped.

Things were fine and dandy until I went away to college. When out of the blue, I developed ovarian cancer. "Daddy, I have ovarian cancer." "Mija, just go take some Midol. That should help." "Thanks for the sympathy, Daddy. Is that what you tell all of your patients? You are so gonna miss me after I die from this." "Mija, why do you think you have ovarian cancer?" "Because!!!" I said in my most whiney voice. "I'm really crampy and stuff." "Yeah, your mother gets grumpy too when she gets her period." "DADDY!!! NOT GRUMPY...CRAMPY!" "Yeah. I heard you. Your mother gets grumpy too," he said with a giggle. "YOU WON'T BE LAUGHING AFTER I DIE!" I screamed, right before I hung up on him. Luckily, my ovarian cancer went away after a trip to the gyno. All of those Santerian chicken sacrifices that I made must have helped.

Until I developed Neurofibromatosis. "Daddy, I have neurofibromatosis." "No, mija. It's just a wart." "Dammit, Daddy, are my diseases never good enough for you?!?" "Come by the clinic tomorrow. I'll freeze it off for you." Well, I went, and he froze it off and it never came back. But I still don't think it was a wart. I think it was the fact that I prayed the Rosary that night. I'm sure it helped.

Then, one day, I met the man of my dreams. And I became The Merry Wife...the perfect picture of health. And all of my diseases went away.

Until last week...

I'm pretty sure that I have tonsilitis. This, of course, means that my tonsils have now grown back. (I had a tonsillectomy about 8 years ago.)

I'm also pretty sure that the Strep-A ("Strep. Eh!") has come back and has taken over my face. Specifically, it's eating my nose.

And did I mention that I think I'm going blind? I totally am... slowly... like Ray Charles style. I better hurry up and learn piano. If I'm gonna go blind, I should at least be a good musician.

Hello. My name is Merry Widow, and I'm a hypochondriac.

OK, OK...I'm a smart girl. I know this. You know this. So maybe I didn't really have a brain tumor, Necrotizing facitits, Ovarian Cancer, and Neurofibromatosis. Maybe it was just a sinus infection, an infected scrape, bad cramps, and a wart. And maybe I don't currently have tonsilitis, Necrotizing facitits (again,) and I'm not going blind. Maybe it's just a sore throat from smoking too many cigs the other night, a big zit that I won't stop picking, and red/itchy eyes from seasonal allergies. But then again...maybe not. I better pull out my prayer rug and figure out which direction points towards Mecca, just in case.