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Although I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a hypochondriac, I am a self-prescribed WebMD warrior. Each night, I fall asleep thinking about a different ailment I might have, and each morning, I awake to a Google search history full of medical jargon. The rabbit holes I fall down are astonishingly deep, so if there’s any specific audience this article needs to reach, that audience would be me.
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Ever since the COVID-19 pandemic and its subsequent quarantine period, America’s perception of the medical industry has permanently shifted. While COVID-19 brought a new sense of gratitude toward health care providers, it also made public spaces exponentially more health conscious than before. Social distancing and masking regulations rightfully normalized a concern about health symptoms, especially regarding the spread of illnesses.
Even as we’ve moved away from the peak of COVID-19 and its effects, anxiety surrounding disease has continued to skyrocket. This is for understandable reasons — the pandemic inflicted indescribable amounts of pain, loss, suffering and loneliness on individuals and families across the globe. Fearing another pandemic is a normal and common reaction. But that concern has recently shifted into a behavior I recognize all too well: hypochondria.
“I couldn’t stress this more: Fearing a virus is completely normal. I’m basically the president of the Hypochondriac Club. However, talking on a highly influential platform about mpox like it’s the apocalypse has dangerous potential to spread misinformation rather than advocacy.”
Maybe it’s just the side of TikTok I’m on, but each time I open the app, without fail, videos of varying credibility pop up on my For You Page discussing countless diseases and ailments — both within the United States and around the world. Sometimes it’s the Lone Star tick, which has a bite that causes meat allergies; sometimes it’s the alleged brain-eating amoeba in Minnesota lakes.
No matter the topic, fears ranging from rational to irrational plague my mind until I’m absolutely convinced I have each and every symptom. TikTok most certainly doesn’t help. Many creators add horror movie soundtracks or clickbait effects to boost their virality at the expense of accuracy. Although those creators may view their actions as spreading awareness or advocating on behalf of those affected, it only incites a deep spiral of public panic. The most recent instance I’ve seen is the discussion on mpox.
Mpox, a virus spread through direct contact with an already infected person or animal, has existed for a relatively long time. Discovered in 1958 Denmark in monkeys kept for research, mpox first transferred to a human in 1970 in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Since then and up until 2022, most cases have been in central, east and west Africa.
However, the United States had a small outbreak in 2003 associated with imported wild animals. In 2022, an outbreak spread the virus to Europe and the United States again. Although the World Health Organization declared mpox an international public health emergency in August 2024, it was predominantly directed toward the surge in the DRC and its neighboring countries — not the United States.
We should still treat the issue with legitimate concern, of course. The gravity of mpox is not minimized simply because the United States isn’t predominantly affected. With this being said, my TikTok has been blowing up with people in America self-diagnosing themselves, fear-mongering symptoms and, overall, freaking out over minimal outbreaks in the United States.
I cannot stress this more: Fearing a virus is completely normal. I’m basically the president of the Hypochondriac Club. However, talking on a highly influential platform about mpox like it’s the apocalypse has dangerous potential to spread misinformation rather than advocacy.
When discussing diseases and viruses in social spaces, it’s important to remember that fear should not be at the forefront of the discussion. It’s completely valid to worry about scary issues harming communities. But when anxiety has complete and total control of a conversation — anxiety without accuracy — the conversation is no longer productive and becomes misconstrued.
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Let’s continue sharing our concern about the health of others. I appreciate knowing I am not alone in the way I feel, but next time, let’s maybe close that WebMD tab.
Reach Emma Souza at letters@collegian.com or on Twitter @_emmasouza.
