I'm not a Germophobe, I'm Just an Overeducated Dumbass!

Despite what a few of my fellow co-workers might think, I am not a germophobe. Nope, not in the least. I love the five-second rule (if it's something tasty like Stephen Libs chocolate, the rule most certainly gets stretched), I don't stress about cleaning cuts, and I don't see the point sometimes in washing the oatmeal pan out completely when I'm just going to make more oatmeal in the same pan in the morning. At certain times, I welcome a good flu if it means I can lose my appetite and a few pounds.

Now, my sister…that is a horse of a different color. She carries hand sanitizer with her all the time. She sanitizes her seats on planes and carries around a doctor's mask because she's terrified of bird flu or SARS or some other BS. She's thisclose from being Howie Mandel.

I, however, can stress myself into a heart attack over some of the simplest things. My problem is I know too much.

I flew to Denmark this August. I know clots can form in the legs. Despite being in good enough shape to run a half-marathon in Denmark, I was convinced I was going to throw a blood clot that would travel into my lungs and kill me as I was waiting to get my passport stamped.

So when the flight attendant came around with complimentary beer, I seized the opportunity without a second thought. See, I know from tanning strategies that were constructed from my anatomy classes that alcohol thins the blood. When the blood is thin, you can get a tan faster when you lay out. When the blood is thin, you're less likely to throw a blood clot and stroke out while traveling overseas.

I drank my Miller Lite. And Corona. And even enjoyed a small bottle of red wine. I'm sure I looked like an alky to the flight crew. I didn't care. I was still convinced I was going to die as soon as I sat foot back on the Earth. My legs were tingly. My toes were falling asleep. And I swear I could feel the blood backing up in the arteries of my legs.

Needless to say, I lived. But despite surviving on the way over (and being laughed at by sister the germophobe), I was still sure I was going to die on my way home. And in case you're paying attention, I did run a half-marathon, drink a few beers directly following, and do some sightseeing.

Once again, I'm still alive. No blood clost have fallen me yet. But a week ago, I was convinced the kitchen cleaner Kaboom had become my bullet.

See, we just moved into a new place. This new place was Animal House for seven boys (that is not an exaggerated number either, people) that went to the local college. It took seven weeks of repairs before we could move in to the house. The cleaning that needed to be done was extensive.

My stepsister, Andrea (yes, I have a sister, a sister-in-law, and a stepsister and all three are named Andrea), had bought Kaboom. It was this cool foaming action stuff that sprayed on blue and turned white once a surface was clean. Considering I refused to barefoot on the floors until after we bleached for fear I'd get AIDS, you probably won't be surprised to hear that I used the Kaboom on our refrigerator (my real sister Andrea has already told me about what I dumbshit I am for using these kind of chemicals, as if I needed a good berating after the sleep I lost that night).

It had been a month since we'd cleaned the kitchen, but because of my penchant for either diet Cokes or Gatorade, I hadn't drank any water. I wanted water that night, so I pulled out this awesome Royal Copenhagen china cup that my sister's mother-in-law gave me as token from my stay in Denmark, filled it with ice and then water from the fridge.

I drank heartily. I was wicked thirsty. And then I refilled the cup. With a cup that was topped off, I went into my room to go to sleep. And then that's when it happened. A cough showed up.

Because I have been training for a marathon and have been terrified of getting sick, I've slept with a vaporizer most night this fall. A tickle in my throat has sent me to the kitchen to fill the thing. While, knock on wood, I haven't had my fall sinus infection yet, I have gone to sleep with a tickle in my throat that has caused a few coughs.

The cough was back this night. Instead of looking at it as a product of the weather and rain, I chose to see it as a product of the water that I was now sure was poisoned from the cool foaming action Kaboom. I was sure my throat was swelling and that's what caused the cough, that I was going to be lucky to make it through the night without my airway swelling shut and killing me.

Knowing I was being ridiculous, I used cooling techniques that Andrew taught me in yoga. I turned on the TV, focused on the white noise of the house and began to breathe slowly in and out. I started with 3-second in-and-out breaths. Then went to four and five. When I tried to get six-second in-and-out breaths, I felt a constriction in my chest.

Instead of thinking it was my posture as I lie down in my bed, I once again began to brood about the possible Kaboom contaminated water and how the poison may slowly kill me. I pictured it slowly eating the delicate tissues of my digestive track, the acid from my stomach then poisoning my insides as it leaked into my chest cavity. Now, are you going to be surprised to hear that I began to feel pains in my abdomen? Because I totally did. And I was sure my small intestine was slowly disintegrating into nothing.

I focused on the TV and convinced myself that if I could stay awake and make it to the morning, that I might have a chance to live. I considered the ER. But knowing about the unkempt miscreants and gutter riff raff that practically lived at the ER (and that my cheap ass would totally have to pay for the trip), I decided to see if my symptoms worsened. Plus, I might get a flesh eating virus at the ER and what with the poison eating my body from the inside and the virus eating my body from the outside, I would stand no chance at survival.

At some point during Miss Congeniality 2 at 4 a.m., I fell asleep. At 7:30, I awoke to my alarm going off. I did a quick body scan and saw no stomach acid or blood had leaked out of me while I slept. I was tired, but I still went to yoga. I hated myself and my overacted imagination, but I was training for marathon and had still healthy body to keep limber!