I have searched my symptoms online and have determined my diagnosis. I am what has been referred to colloquially on the Internet as a “cybercondriac.” I prefer the term HyperGoogle Syndrome sufferer. My sickness, characterized by constant reliance on Google to placate all fears and diagnose all ailments, goes beyond looking up a movie quote or the checkered past of a potential significant other. In fact, it’s more serious than researching a professor’s friends and family. It is flat-out reliance, dependence and addiction. Google has replaced my friends, my family and my doctor as my soul source of guidance when it comes to life’s tough decisions.
Because Internet habits tend to be so constant and private, and browsing histories cleared so frequently, I have reason to believe that many of my peers are closeted HyperGooglers as well, but there’s evidence lacking. It’s just a suspicion. Who could resist the temptation to turn to the wealth of sites on the Internet that provide space to enter your symptoms? Sites give you a free diagnosis right on the spot. If you have jaundice, vaginal itching and excessive hair growth, you’re probably embarrassed about it. Wouldn’t you rather make an appointment with myelectronicmd.com than make an appointment at the health center? It takes less time, involves less stress, and is a whole lot less invasive than an examination with a speculum and a rubber glove.
So, you decide to search your symptoms. OK, you tell yourself, if it seems serious, you’ll make an appointment with a doctor. So you enter your symptoms into Google, and you get an entire host of websites as a result, all of which list different illnesses, ranging from viruses to cancers, with outcomes ranging from “will clear up with time” to “potentially fatal.” And now you’re terrified. That’s the tricky part. Instead of clearing your mind and returning to your day, you receive a sudden rush of anxiety so severe that it’s debilitating. You can’t go on, now, typing that English essay, knowing that in a minimized window beneath your paper lies the truth about your sickness.
Ironically enough, searching “hypochondriasis online” does not provide information on the potentially detrimental relationship between hypochondriacs and the Internet. The search provides 153,000 results, most detailing the symptoms of hypocondriasis. Those symptoms sound familiar. Diagnose yourself.
Google’s not just for privately researching irregular periods and headaches, however. Once my friends and family grew annoyed by my constant agonizing over studying abroad, I turned to Google. Check my Google search history and you will see, listed between “how laguna beach characters are so rich” and “african clothing hat:” “scotland,” “scotland ugly,” “scotland social issues,” “scotland social policy,” “scotland gay,” “edinburgh expensive,” “abroad edinburgh,” “edinburgh running,” “edinburgh stem cell,” “edinburgh weather,” as well as a few misspellings in the heat of the moment such as “edinburgh cool ciyt” and “edinburgh abrotion.”
Because the Internet possesses such a wealth of information and people like me spend so much of their day seated before a computer screen, it makes sense that we can so quickly turn to the Internet to answer our deepest and most burning questions. It becomes so easy to imagine that every bit of necessary knowledge, every opinion, every picture and every statistic is not only on the Internet, but it’s all checked for accuracy before being placed online. We refuse to believe that anything worth knowing isn’t on the Internet. Any information omitted must not be important. So we see it as the most reliable source of information, when in fact it is the most problematic.
While Google has probably made my anxieties about studying abroad worse, I do need to thank it for a few things. Without the Internet, I may have never learned that electrical plugs in Scotland have two flat prongs in line and one perpendicular, so before going, I should expect to need a transformer and adapter to plug in my appliances; this is convenient to know. I would have never learned that Scotland is the birthplace of television or the bicycle, two of my favorite things. How great is that? And, I never would have learned that the Scottish invented hollow pipe drainage, a treatment for scurvy, the logarithms that killed me sophomore year of high school, paraffin, marmalade, fountain pens, and so much more. For this, I am thankful for the Internet. I am thankful to know that it will be cold and that I’ll be one of few Jews in the country, but maybe not to know what haggis specifically consists of.
And, it’s great to get a point of reference when you’re feeling sick. It’s great to have a clue about what you’re experiencing. It’s probably a great thing to know that maybe what you’re experiencing could be serious and it’s worth getting a trained professional’s opinion. It just concerns me that Google has the potential to make your cold seem like bird flu, and for many, the next reaction isn’t to call a doctor or have a friend talk you down, but to search more and more until you’re referring to message boards, online communities and blogs, and generally people with absolutely no medical authority, until the net result is three hours spent mourning your impending death.
I may say that my friends and family suffer less if I worry to them less and Google “Scotland” more, but really, all it does is privatize my anxiety and heighten my fears. So let’s just consider Google a point of reference, not a doctor, therapist or warm-blooded human. It may be embarrassing to say the words “discolored mucus” out loud, but it may save your sanity.
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