I HAD a health scare recently which threw me into a terrible tizzy of worry.

I fretted about it for weeks. Everything I Googled indicated that I was on my last legs and that I was going to die a quick and painful death.

I had long and furious debates with myself whether to see a doctor. I've always been terrified of medical examinations and I live by the rule that if something is wrong with me, it is better not to know.

But reason finally triumphed and I made an appointment to see a specialist.

As the day approached, I found myself becoming more distressed.

I lost my appetite, I lost weight and I obsessively weighed myself every morning (for the first time in my life, I actually wished I was piling on the pounds instead of losing them).

My stomach was queasy all the time, I kept feeling cold (I asked everyone around me if they felt the same; they all said no), and a general sense of gloom and doom hung over me.

It didn't help that all this coincided with a change in my job roles at the office - another reason to be stressed out - and that some people whom I love dearly were in situations that caused me to worry about them too.

By the time I went to see the doctor last Monday, I was a wreck. I couldn't stop shaking with fear during the examination. I think she was rather irritated with my lack of robustness, and rightly so.

Well, the doctor phoned me a few days later to say the tests were negative. I was okay, although she did add that I had to do follow-up checkups - as I suppose all women of a certain age should.

But instead of uttering a prayer of thanks and heaving a sigh of relief, all I could think to do was to question the doctor on the worst-case scenarios I would one day face.

When I finally put the phone down (after testing the limits of her patience with my insistent line of pessimistic questioning), I plunged into a further whirlpool of worry.

I started thinking about all the other medical check-ups on all the other parts of my body I had to go through sooner or later, and how fearful that experience would be.

Thankfully, I could still see the lighter side of things.

It did occur to me that if disease doesn't kill me, my obsessive worrying just might.

I'VE always been a worry wort. I blame it on being the middle child.

You know that theory about how first-borns tend to be strong-minded and confident while the youngest-borns are indulged and hence manipulative and charming, leaving the middle child to be striving for attention, scared of conflict and taking on the role of mediator and negotiator.

I've always adopted the peacemaker role and the worries that come with it.

While my siblings could sail through life seemingly able to switch off from any unpleasantness erupting around them, I burdened myself with trying to broker peace, and worrying about everything.

I'd fret if my father wasn't home by a certain time, or if either parent was ill, or if they weren't talking to each other, or if they had business problems, and even when things were lovey-dovey at home because, really, how long can the harmony last?

It's a frame of mind I've brought to my own life.

I worry, I worry a lot, and I worry all the time.

Come to think of it, maybe I enjoy it. Maybe I feel safer when I expect the worst.

If I fret and bad things don't happen (discounting the fact that there could have been a low probability of them happening in the first place), could it mean that fretting can prevent disasters from unfolding in my life?

It's what psychologists call 'magical thinking', and it can become addictive.

Then again, worry isn't totally bad. It can be good when it focuses the mind to anticipate and avoid danger.

If the worry about being destitute is always at the back of your mind, chances are you will be more careful with money.

If you worry about your health, you will adopt good lifestyle habits. In my case, it nudged me to seek medical advice.

But worry becomes bad if it paralyses your ability to function normally.

It is debilitating when you can only look at the future through eyes of fear, when you feel anxious all the time, and it makes you physically ill.

LAST Sunday, while still stewing - indulging? - in worry about my health, I received a jolt of reality.

I was driving on the left lane of the Pan-Island Expressway when a motorcycle ahead of me suddenly wobbled dangerously.

The next thing I knew, the bike skidded on its side, electric sparks flew and the machine landed two lanes away.

My eyes nearly popped out in horror as all this unfolded before me.

A car and a van were in front of my car and the three of us managed to slow down and stop by the road shoulder.

My heart was still thumping like crazy when, thank God, I saw the motorcyclist pick himself up from the road and walk to the shoulder. He was all right. It was his lucky day.

By then, cars were speeding towards the bike that was lying on the road.

The drivers from the car and van in front of me got out. Very bravely, the two men stopped the traffic and retrieved the bike. Within minutes, everything was back to normal.

But the accident got me thinking (okay, it got me worrying): What if someone - me? - had run over the motorcyclist while he lay on the road? What if a car had smashed into the fallen bike and other vehicles had crashed into that car? It would have been a catastrophic pile-up given how heavy traffic was on the PIE.

The accident did make me wonder if it was futile to worry too much about my life.

Why spend so much mental energy visualising a negative future - which is basically what worry is - when you should be living in the here and now?

When you should be treasuring the preciousness of life as it is being played out at this very moment?

What's the point of worrying about tomorrow when fate can throw you a curveball and snuff out your life in a matter of a split second?

If you are feeling healthy right now, is there a need to work yourself up into a frenzy because you may feel lousy tomorrow?

Besides, if bad things do happen in the future, they will happen. Nobody ever said life was going to be easy. Just deal with it - when it comes.

Until then, what does one gain by excessive worrying? As someone once said, worry doesn't help tomorrow's troubles, but it sure does ruin today's happiness.

He was right, and I'm working on it.

This article was first published in The Sunday Times on Feb 24 2008.