A man goes to his doctor and tells him he’s suffering from a long list of illnesses. ‘The trouble with you,’ says the doctor. ‘Is that you’re a hypochondriac.’ ‘Oh no,’ says the man. ‘Don’t tell me I’ve got that as well.’
Mrs Smith is a hypochondriac and her doctor – fed up with her constant complaints about nonexistent illnesses – starts palming her off with a mild sedative to keep her happy. One day Mrs Smith complains of chest pains and is prescribed her usual treatment. However, this time the pain is real and Mrs Smith dies of a heart attack. The doctor hears this and is so upset he dies of shock. Mrs Smith and the doctor are buried in adjoining plots. Next morning, the doctor hears a tapping on his coffin. A muffled voice calls out, ‘Doctor, this is Mrs Smith! Do you have anything for worms?’
Harry tells the doctor he thinks he has a rare fatal disease. ‘You wouldn’t know though,’ says the doctor. ‘If you were suffering from that disease you’d feel no pain or discomfort at all.’ ‘I know,’ says Harry. ‘And those are exactly my symptoms.’
"Worse," came the reply. "Now he thinks he's dead."
Isaac is one of the world’s great hypochondriacs. One day he goes to see doctor Myers and says, with a worried look on his face, "Doctor, you must help me."
"How can I do that, Isaac?" asks doctor Myers calmly.
"Do you remember those voices in my head I’ve been complaining about?" says Isaac.
"Yes of course," replies doctor Myers.
"Well," says Isaac, "they've suddenly gone away."
"So what's the problem then?" asks doctor Myers.
"I think I'm going deaf," replies Isaac