Posted on November 21, 2013
On CIDP day one, I went straight to the ER. I had fallen out of bed, my legs weren’t working, I had severe pain in my calves. I was absolutely panicked. Everyone in my life was panicked. The ER was lacking cellphone service, so they Googled for me. My mom-in-law (Kim, aka Kiffy von Kiffy) proved to be the best Googler in the land. She was able to definitively diagnose me using her skills of logic and reason. With the help of Google, I now had Dengue Fever, or as we now know it… The Dengue.
Now you may be wondering, how could she have ever taken the symptoms that we now know are CIDP and WebMD them into The Dengue? Here’s how:
I had just been to Panama with my best friend for our 30th birthday. I traveled to an indigenous island where I met a sloth and cut my foot on coral. And while I started having symptoms prior to my trip, they seemed to really speed up in the week after I got back. At the time, The Dengue was perfectly logical. Now I just seem to find myself the butt of frequent Dengue jokes.
Because my life is filled with irony and humor, I am living in the assumption that Dengue Fever will be the thing that gets me in the end. I sort of envision my death happening like this:
Kim: Haha, she has The Dengue!
Megan: Haha, it’s The Dengue!
Liz: Haha, I have The Dengue!
[Flatline] The End
So imagine my abject horror when I received an email from Kim this morning titled “Must see”. Inside it was this video:
So yes, The Dengue is coming to get me. It’s only one borough away.
Moral of the story: WebMD is often wrong. You probably don’t have The Dengue… unless you live in Long Island.