Memoirs of a Medical Mystery Volume 2: Very Rational Thought Processes

So I still have a neck bump. It's been about 6 weeks since I've noticed le bump, and in that time not much about is has changed, except that he's now called Wally. Wally's most attractive quality is his consistency; he's consistently been a mystery. Three doctors appointments and four medical professionals later, the only thing I've been told for certain is that we know as much about Wally as we do about the Zodiac Killer--Wally isn't a cyst or a bug bite, the Zodiac Killer was also not a cyst or a bug bite. To sum up everything I do know about Wally so far:

  • To know more about Wally, we must run tests on Wally.
  • To know what tests to run on Wally, we must first know more about Wally.

Ah, reassurance.

The only other thing the "four" trusted "medical" off"ic"ials were able to agree on is that supposedly unlike the Zodiac Killer, Wally is neither dangerous nor life threatening. So far Wally hasn't threatened a bus full of school children, so that assumption still holds up, at least for now.

Knowing that Wally probably won't have any sort of adverse affect on my health, I could let myself get swallowed up by my irrational thoughts based on everything but facts, but that wouldn't be the adult thing to do. The adult thing to do would be to fill my head with pleasant, logical thoughts about my very bright future as a failed BuzzFeed fashion writer. Have I done that? You take a gander for yourself.

Warning: these are the actual, very adult things that I've thought since being told 6 weeks ago that Wally was not a threat to my health. Viewer discretion is advised, as the most recent one was this morning:

If Wally looks smaller when I wear racerback tank tops, is Wally getting smaller?

My heart rate spikes when I exercise... I'm probably dying.

Is there a zit on my lower back or is Wally having a child?

When I get really nervous and stressed out about Wally my heart rate spikes and my breathing shallows. It could be anxiety, but it's probably impending death.

When I get drunk I make bad decisions. Wally, is this your work?

Is it possible that none of the doctors know what a spine is supposed to feel like, and that Wally is actually a side effect from my spine fusing together?

Can you get fat in your neck?

What is calcium, and is it on my spine?

How does kale play into this?

Does Wally occasionally hurt when I poke him because I'm dying, or because I've been poking him aggressively every 5 minutes for the past 6 weeks? Or because I'm dying?

How do tapeworms work?

Is it possible to accidentally get injected with steroids or cortisone? That would explain why the doctors say it looks like a buildup of steroids or cortisone.

Does Advil contain steroids or cortisone?

Is this because I started making smoothies again?

I get really uncomfortable when I eat way to much food. Are you there, Wally? It's me, Confused.

Is this all because I'm lacking bubble in my butt?

I'm not 21 yet. If I can't drink alcohol legally, how am I supposed to form rational thoughts about my medical wellness?

For now I guess I'll have to stick to complete irrationality. But on the bright side, my friend made Wally a Twitter account.


If you're interested in real time updates about Wally's day to day life you're shit out of luck. But if you're interested in being aggressively yelled at by a seemingly British neck bump, today is your lucky day! And if you were wondering what I've been doing for the past 24 hours, well now you have your answer.

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If Wally is British, I have a few theories regarding British invasions and infiltration of the American medical system that I think deserve some attention. I know you're there, CIA. I'll be waiting on your call.

And you, Paul Rudd, I have some questions about your horse riding abilities. Paul Revere's dead, and your name is the next best thing.