I Am My Diagnosis & Cheery Tips for Patients

As I was driving to my new excellent job today where the people are actually like me, or to be more specific, not so dolled-up or formal or formatory that I wasn't sure whether or not some of them were pods, I noticed that I was rapidly humming along, rather like a sweet little birdie on speed. Listening to the news didn't calm me, as they don't speak quickly enough when I am in that mode. So I turned on The Shins. Of course I had chopped 5 minutes off my commuting time, imagining that I would miraculously get there more quickly today. The clocks would adjust themselves for me, as they do when I am super-duper-cheery. After all, I was speeding through time. This was not a mega-caffeine morning. This was me in a slightly manic mode that I have been loathe to label because it sounds, jeez, so manic. My psychopharm guy referred to "cycling, " and I was all with that, because fast to very very sad to faster is like a sudden whip-around of your head, so that a tiny and fierce neck muscle spasms mid-whip, but the movement continues.

Why mention this now? Because Spotted Elephant wrote a super-brave posting about the joys of having a chronic medical condition. I think it is really fun. My medical condition(s), that is, although the posting is also excellent. My diagnoses make me unique, and without them, I would have no identity. Who would take my pills? The dog might find them unpalatable.

Also, my healthcare practitioners are the best, and I worked my ass off to find them. I help to validate their professional lives, and it's always intriguing to get a Case like me. And of course, 'every time a door closes, a window opens.' (That's because when a psychiatrist closes a door, the claustrophobic patient begs permission to open the window.) I have learned so very much from my medical misfortunes. They are like little gifts, or lessons, as it were. The following is a list, inspired by two men: my first neurologist, who taught me that other people had it worse than me, and that his wife had an important job; and also, Jerry Lewis, whose telethons helped me to realize just how much attention a wheelchair might get me.

LIFE LESSONS FROM A VARIOUSLY DIAGNOSED PERSON

Always trust your doctor, even when he leaves you sitting in a room alone for 40 minutes. He's busy, for crissake!

Never listen to the nurse - she's just a little helper, and she's probably been at that same job for years. So what does she know?

Don't expect a call on the actual week the doctor said she would call you! Holy cow! When she said Thursday, she meant Thursday of any week, any month, any year.

Quit learning the medical jargon: it's unnerving to your physician, and you certainly could not truly understand it.

Just because it burns when you pee, you constantly have to go, and you've had five urinary infections in the past, don't try diagnosing yourself. You must be seen before anything is prescribed. The doctor will see you in two days.

Your diagnoses are an opportunity to grow and learn. You are an example of heroism for all of those around you. When you feel like absolute crap and everyone is sick of hearing about it, remember that suffering builds character. Plus, no one likes a complainer, so quit bitching.

Remember, regardless of the dehumanizing diagnostic test, it is important so that the doctor can know exactly what's going on. It may turn out to have been completely unnecessary to make you shit all night, for example, or prohibit you from sleeping, but just be a good girl. The doctor has never had the diagnostic test, so he has no idea what the hell he's talking about when he describes it. Nevertheless, you can ask a nurse, and dumb as she is, she will probably, somehow, remember something about the test.

Although people do get genuine bodily ailments, women are known for their, pardon me, hysteria. Should you think you have a psychiatric disorder, you're probably crazy! It's undoubtedly related to your hormones, your cycle, your tendency, like all women, to exaggerate. Just cheer up, honey!

Everything happens for a reason. Like, the reason kids are in wheelchairs in the first place is that people like Jerry Lewis need to exploit them. Furthermore, the reason I wrote this is because of the joy it gives me to have many diagnoses, and to be part of the hysteria.