Matt knows best; it's kuru

When I read Gene Weingarten's The Hypochondriac's Guide to Life. And Death, I skipped a few sections even though it was hilarious.

I'm not, despite what most in my family would say, a hypochondriac. I don't worry that every cough is anthrax or every sniffle is swine flu.

No, I am not a hypochondriac … except when it comes to my stomach and both front and rear elimination ports. I am not sure why, but I am sure that these parts of me are going to fail so those were the sections I skipped.

These parts, it seems to me, are the most affected by life in a chair. They get crushed, squished and smashed daily.

The other reason is I have just been waiting my whole life for these things to go bad.

One of the first doctors I remember is the one who performed my meatotomy when I was quite little. I won't go into the gory details of this procedure, but it involves a scalpel and a male body part that should not be cut. I can't even link to a page on it because just the description makes me clinch.

As far as my stomach and the rear elimination portal, I remember as a freshman in college starting my day kneeling in front of my trash can drinking a spoonful of Kaopectate. I would drink it, raise one knee off the ground, then slam it into the floor to prevent me from gagging and barfing. Then I went on my way.

Over the years, I used various liquids to soothe my stomach and help things smoothly on their way even though that way is now crazily kinked from sitting in a wheelchair.

So when Mom told me the nurse admitted to her that yes, they had lost my urinalysis, I instantly thought the worst. Granted, my doctor, who ordered the retest of the urinalysis, is not worried. The first urinalysis found small amounts of blood in the urine, and my doctor thinks it was maybe some minor irritation or infection.

I know better. It us more likely ebola of the bladder, kuru of the prostate or perhaps the plague.

Tomorrow I will send them another specimen. Mom said the nurse was really apologetic, so I should give the doctor another shot. I will, mostly because it is too hard to change.

Oh, and Claren barfed on the living room rug tonight.