Malingering

Malingering is not exactly the subject of this monograph (references for nerds!) but it makes a good title. I thought the idea of a personified flowers cliched enough that I'd find a similar image by searching but apparently I'm more creative than I thought.

I have a warped perspective on my own wellness but I find the only thing stranger is other people's perception of me. The root of the problem is, no doubt, my usually feeling much more physically able than a 5 foot frame advertises. Admittedly, I'm a mess on paper- With lung conditions, hearing loss, and daily injections for three years (lest I have remained 4'8" for the rest of my life), I spent a great deal of my childhood in doctors' offices. So much so that I actually felt like there was a quota and I would not surpass it. When I was 15 I got a rash around my eyes about the same time that my right knee was incredibly sore. I was sent to a specialist who was convinced I had juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. When she called for a follow up visit I refused to go. I was certain that it was a question of mind over matter and I was dead set against having another condition.

I never considered myself weak, maybe because compared to my sister I rarely got cold & flu as a kid. I knew some of my family thought my hearing loss made me deeply disabled (though I've never agreed with that assessment.) Still, when someone's response to my telling them I was training for the Boston Marathon was "You can't! You're too sick!" that was definitely news to me.

Now that I live with peers I am often told that I push myself too hard and, though I am usually recognized as strong and capable, people still worry about me breaking myself. I think anything I say about feeling poorly is whining, but I'm told don't malinger as often as I think I do, thank goodness.

The one thing that plagued me as a kid (and still does) is nausea. I get nauseous headaches entirely too often and, for whatever reason, they always feel like the end of the world. The big problem is their mercurial nature- they show up unannounced, fade away for just long enough that I try to resume my day and theeeeeen.... ebb back and make keeping my head above my shoulders almost impossible. It's the interruption of my plans more than the unpleasant symptoms that upsets me, and like four year old child I want to bury my face in a teddy bear until it goes away.

Mornings this week have routinely started with these headaches, making it hard for me to get out of the house. As a kind of reverse-hypochondriac I try to find comprehensive explanations for illnesses so I can strongly brush them aside. The running hypothesis is dehydration (eminently fixable!) and maybe the makings of barometric pressure-induced migraines (it always works to blame the weather!)

This sketch isn't my best work: Allow me to plead a "7" out of "10" in Ze Frank's brilliant 'Illness Communication Exaggeration Curve.' In case I ever aim to change my perception of self to that of a wilting violet, I'm going to need all the research and practice in malingering that I can get.

Oh! Oh my head...