Well of course it bloody is. Because to do the real work of diagnosing, the real work of sleuthing, the REAL work of doctoring is too. fucking. hard.
Don’t get me started.
I love being called hysterical (from the Greek for uterus) because something I have has stumped a lesser provider.
The good providers are Dick Tracey personified. Rare as hell. Worth fighting for.
Call me “hormonal”one more time I shall ensure you need a goddamned dentist to make a bridge for your missing front teeth.
You owe an apology to nobody for something that infected you. The medical community owes most of us an apology for being infected with the arrogance of the Almighty, which guarantees poor diagnoses, continued discomfort and deep, well-justified resentment.
Because I banged my own damned head from concussions, the unpredictable behavior I periodically impose on others does indeed deserve a mea culpa. I don’t think yours does. You didn’t sign up for Lyme. I signed up for adventures. For my dollar, big diff.
