Hypochondriac Kid

Micaela just informed me that she is having panic attacks.  Now, I know what you are probably thinking.  Any good mother would be startled and worried and rush immediately to the nearest medical care facility.  But that is not what I did.

Instead, I pooled this new information with all the other information she has given me over the past several weeks, and evidently, we have some serious problems, including:
Sore back…needs a sleep number bed.
Sore ankles…needs ibuprofen.
Asthma problems. (she has not had an asthma problem since she was an infant.  Now, I am not discounting this either, but in light of the many other “problems” she is having, I am hesitant to panic.)
Hard of hearing.
Trouble seeing.
Frequent stomach aches (usually around homework or shower time).
Sore throat (again, frequently).
And finally, panic attacks.
Now, in dealing with the pre-teen girl, I have learned an all-important lesson.  Never, never minimize what her ailments may be, no matter how insignificant they may seem at the time.  Sore toes are as catastrophic and devastating as migraines (which, by the way, she evidently suffers from as well).
I have to draw the line, however, at panic attacks.  I told her, very nicely, that I didn’t think they were panic attacks.  Instead, I thought that maybe they were fits or temper tantrums.  At which point, she threw another “panic attack” at my lack of sympathy for her condition.
Ahhhh, gotta love those pre-teen hormones.  I have ruined her life yet again.

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