I had seen that look a thousand times over the course of each diagnosis. It was a look that said, “you’re kidding me right? There’s no way you have all of these.” In other words, she was calling me out to be either a liar, or at very the least, a hypochondriac. I glared back at her and watched as she perused the list once more. That’s when her resting bitch-face, which had been firmly at repose, suddenly became animated and arranged itself into a full on venomous she-devil face as she tartly asked, “Isn’t chronic fatigue and ME the same thing?” Obviously as well as working the desk, she also had a certification as a medical practitioner.
“No”, I replied, although it took every ounce of my being not to tagged “bitch” at the end of that one simple word. Then I continued, “there are very acute differences in both conditions. It’s only those who don’t do their research who lump them together because of their similarities. It’s a lazy diagnosis, but you can place them together if it makes your job easier.” And then the bitch “Hmph” me! She actually closed her mouth in order to produce a sound that denoted a “fuck you!” I almost told her that if she didn’t like her job, then she should go back to her original occupation as a woman of the night, but instead settle with a remark that she needed to go back to training in order to learn how to deal with patients in a polite manner. This time she remained quiet and I went and took a seat awaiting my appointment.