AROUND 18 months ago, following a minor car accident and what I felt to be a dismissive appointment with my doctor who told me to take more painkillers and get off my crutches, I was diagnosed with a strain, or possible tearing of the pubic symphysis. To be more precise, I self-diagnosed myself with the aid of my knowledgeable physician friend Google: always obliging and always there for as long a consultation as you fancy. The fact that the injury was commonly associated with riding accidents or motorbike collisions in which the victim is whacked pretty much square in the groin did little to deflect me from the belief that, given an X-ray, it would be revealed that I did have the tell-tale wide gap between the two halves of my pelvis. I had an X-ray. It turned out I had fractured my pelvis, which was useful to know, but not as good as being right and having an exotic-sounding injury like strained pubic symphysis.

Now, I do not consider myself to be a hypo chondriac. Quite the reverse. I’ve always believed myself at the opposite end of the scale, one who avoids doctors, principally out of laziness, and ignores most symptoms in the hope that they will go away. But all that has changed in recent years thanks to Google. I am sure I’m not alone in having fallen for the lure of an infinite library of health advice: not quite a cyberchondriac, but almost.

New research from the Royal College of General Practitioners suggests that Google might be a good research tool for GPs. A team of 15 researchers identified 26 difficult cases with a 58% accuracy. The underlying suggestion was that home surfers, too, might find the search engine useful. “Doctors and patients are increasingly proficient with the internet,” the study concluded, “and frequently used Google to search for medical information … Our study suggests that for difficult diagnostic cases it is often useful to use Google for diagnosis.” The accuracy sounds good, until you consider the 42% rate of misdiagnosis.

Given that even mild hypochondriacs are likely to blind themselves to reassurance and focus on more deadly diseases, chances are some of that 58% could wind up checking in to intensive care units. The internet starts to look like less of a trusted physician and more like a devil sitting next to the ear, worrying away at the smallest itch or ache.

Perhaps hyperawareness of the state of our own health is just another symptom of the current culture of fear. A recent New Scientist article on how to live a long life suggested “nurturing your inner hypochondriac”, partly by having lots of tests . Unfortunately, most tests carry risk and the possibility of false positives. Then there’s the stress of the test process itself.

Having lived with a hypochondriac who saw almost any physical change, including hairline recession, as a sign of illness, I am well aware of the kind of panic that can surround even the mildest symptoms. A small red patch on the skin following a visit to the dentist becomes a reason for an HIV test.

There are, of course, degrees of hypo-chondria. The central character of Mark Haddon’s latest book cuts out a piece of eczema he mistakes for cancer. Then there is the rest of us, prone, just for an imaginary moment, to turn a cold into a fried-chicken induced case of HN51.

Knowledge is power, but a little knowledge, of the kind obtained through Google, may be a dangerous thing.