Throat Cancer

Here's a little paranoid irrationality for you ... I've become convinced I've got (or will soon get) throat cancer. Quite a large amount of my waking hours are spent wandering about the house thinking, "I've got fucking throat cancer. Fuck! I'm going to die of throat cancer. What the hell am I going to do about this bastard throat cancer of mine? Have I got throat cancer?". Everytime I clear my throat I'm convinced I'm two months away from having my tongue removed by some bastard butcher masquerading as a surgeon. Everytime I poke about my smoking-destroyed jagged teeth I think I'm destined for the grave. Every day I sit and think "I'm fucking done for. My number's up ... and I had so very little else to give."

Christ ... what if I actually have got throat cancer?