What’s so bad about Googling your symptoms? A lot, apparently

Becoming a new parent is one of the few times in life when everyone feels obliged to give you unsolicited advice. Mostly it’s practical stuff like “sleep when the baby sleeps” and “don’t be afraid to ask for help”.

Occasionally, you might get something confusing, like the practitioner at parent class who kept reminding me, “Your baby is your baby.” She said it so much that I wondered if she knew something I didn’t. Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, my baby looks a lot like me, so that concern has been benched for now.

But the advice that troubled me most was this: “Whatever you do, don’t consult Dr Google.”

Since its creation in 1998, Google has been our go-to platform for solving everyday problems that would otherwise leave us stumped: How do you poach an egg? Where is Luxembourg? Are bottle shops open on Good Friday? (They’re not, but pubs serve takeaways).

So inbuilt is our reliance on the search engine that the term “Google” has become a verb in its own right. Just Google it. And yet, for all the convenience that comes from being able to answer any question instantly, using Google to self-diagnose is frowned upon.

The typical line is that Googling symptoms is a guaranteed way to convince yourself of the worst-case scenario. A cough becomes cancer, a head cold is the beginning of a tumour, and that clicking knee? Early onset arthritis.

There is even a term for those who compulsively turn to the internet at the first sign of illness: a cyberchondriac. According to Google (who else?), a cyberchondriac is a person who compulsively searches the internet for information about particular real or imagined symptoms of illness.

But what’s so bad about compulsively searching for information? Is this not the age of information, knowledge is power and all that? As a cyberchondriac, I’d rather have all the information, even the terrifying bits, so that I can begin the elimination process.

“Yes, this freckle appears funny, but having spent five hours looking at pictures of melanoma on the internet, I am certain it’s nothing to worry about.”

I also appreciate how services like WebMD take my concerns, real or imagined, seriously.

Punch in “sore throat”, and it spits back: “Is Your Sore Throat a Cold, Strep Throat, or Tonsillitis?″ Well, firstly, thank you for taking an interest; now let’s find out!

It goes without saying that I am not someone who self-diagnoses instead of seeing an actual doctor; that would be irresponsible. I merely self-diagnose in the spare time I have before my next appointment.

When it came to our child’s health, my wife and I agreed to take everyone’s advice on board, strictly real doctors only, and an absolute ban on Googling medical advice.

However, the problem with small babies is that they can’t talk, and have a lot going on physically. Between the grunting, vomiting and inability to hold their heads up, it’s a stressful time. But whenever I felt tempted to jump online, the advice we’d been given played back in my head: “Whatever you do, don’t consult Dr Google.”

Ironically, this led to increased fear and anxiety; the less I knew, the more my imagination ran wild. Was he blinking too much or not enough? Should I be worried that his head looks a little big? Is it a big head?

Usually, this is when I’d Google, ‘baby big head’, but I could only gaze at his possibly enormous head and wonder. Eventually, it all became too much when we grew concerned that his belly button hadn’t healed properly.

My wife was convinced it was serious, so we booked into the doctor, but in the meantime, I checked in with Dr Google.

“It’s an umbilical granuloma,” I said. “Says here it’s a type of scar tissue that forms in the belly button, no big deal, but they require treatment because they won’t resolve on their own.”

Fast-forward to the doctor’s surgery, and after a brief examination, the paediatrician stood up: “It’s an umbilical,” but before he could finish, I stepped in: “Granuloma?”

Part of me hoped he’d be proud, perhaps we’d share a knowing nod, but instead, he was unimpressed and lectured me on the dangers of Google self-diagnosis.

And maybe he is right. Maybe exposing myself and my child to the alarmist horrors of the internet is not a smart idea. But if I’ve learnt anything so far, whatever makes you feel better is worth doing; your baby is your baby.

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at thomas.mitchell@smh.com.au or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.

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