Cancer-noia

Am I the only one out there who is perpetually paranoid about contracting some horrible disease? Both times I spent time in Africa, a good portion of that time was spent worried that someone was going to run up and stick me with an HIV-infected needle or that I was going to get bitten by a malaria-carrying mosquito (oh wait—that one actually happened).

But really. I didn't eat at Taco Bell for like years and years after that hepatitis whatever scare, and I can hardly touch raw meat and have to religiously disinfect any possible salmonella breeding grounds in the kitchen. I use hand sanitizer like it's a drug (which, at this point, it pretty much is). 

All these worried tendencies are nothing, however, compared to my cancer-noia. As I write this, I'm waiting for some doctor results to come back to tell me, in my worst-case-scenario mind, whether or not I have cancer. (I really don't; I promise.) I'm not worried about it, although the ultrasound technician spent an awfully long time wielding that gooey, looking-through-my-skin ultrasound instrument. Anyway. So as I wait (I'm not really waiting... Just bored at the moment), I thought I'd give you a glimpse into my paranoia-filled mind and make a list of all the things that I'm positive are giving me cancer:

1. Standing in front of a microwave when it's going. After pressing that start button, I leave the room always if I can help it. Microwaves at stomach-level seem somehow worse...

2. Walking through a metal detector while talking on a cell phone. People probably thought I was so weird every time I walked through the metal detectors in the library at BYU, because if I was on the phone, I'd put the phone down as I walked through. One too many waves going on there.

3. Goiters. Just don't ask any follow-up questions. It's a real thing. You know, for some people.

4. Looking at the light from a copy machine while it's scanning. Again, coworkers have almost certainly seen me looking up after I press the start button and have thought that I'm super weird. Whatever. I can get away with it, though, right?

So, yeah. Basically I'm insane. Please tell me I'm not the only one with crazy, irrational cancer-related fears.