I'm dealing with an unknown something wrong with my body. I wake up in pain: my stomach, my heart, my core. I eat because I have to, but eating is a chore. I drag through the day, sick and exhausted.
Go to a neurologist, the physician said. Go to an endocrinologist, the neurologist said. Go to a psychiatrist, the endocrinologist said. Go to a gastroenterologist, the psychiatrist said. Ask your physician, the gastroenterologist said. I'm a piece of meat, passed from hand to hand, and no one cares to help me. I call on the phone, and before I can even finish a question, before I can finish a hello, the nurse barks out: "Date of birth?"
Hi, I'm experiencing--
Date of birth?
Is Dr. Grant th--
Date of birth?
Hi. I'm a person--
Date of birth?
Guess I'm not a person then. Guess I'm a number. Wait another six weeks, and we'll call you. Maybe. If we remember.