If the doctor so much as pauses while speaking to me, I am convinced I have cancer. And then there's the whole "now that I've quit my job we will all die from starvation" thing.
Yesterday, my mom, the last person in the world to have dial-up, left her computer on and forgot to turn it off. My brother tried to call and couldn't get through. He called more and more frequently, each time getting a busy signal. He finally asked the Qwest operator to listen in. Instead of correctly interpreting what she heard (the rise and fall whine of a modem), she told him it sounded like moaning.
Boy, did that put him in a tizzy! Mom was surely suffering from a heart attack, the fallen phone inches from her hand, and all she could do was lay there and moan. (Meanwhile, Mom's bopping around, happy as a lark, having no idea that she's supposed to be near death.)
My mom moaning reminds me of this story about why I hate llamas (which never fails to make me laugh).