For those keeping up with these things, I have recently made foray’s into finding out about my condition, the most recent development being a referral to an ME/CFS clinic requiring: a) a phone interview, b) pages of questionnaires filling out, c) the appointment.
a) took place yesterday. A half hour phone call with a nice lady whose name I can’t remember and who called me ‘luvie’ while saying how well I was doing, reassuring me I ‘wasn’t the only one’, that she’s heard much worse/heard it all before, and that this wasn’t a judgement phone-call.
Needless to say, I started wondering if I was being judged. Then I realised that of course I was. Or not judged specifically, but evaluated – that was the point of the call, to evaluate my situation. Anyway, I thought I handled it pretty well. Until she said I sounded very positive, and I realised I’d been doing my public ‘everything’s fine and dandy’ act. It got worse. When I put the receiver down I discovered I was shaking, dizzy from either not breathing enough or breathing too much, my fingers refused to let go of the handset, and my arm ached when I straightened it. Oy.
Lucky me, I get to go through the same thing again when I go for my appointment next week.
And it’s the same stuff again on the questionnaire I need to get around to filling in before I go.
How many times do they want to hear the same thing?
Also, how does it help them asking “if I could wave a magic wand and do anything, what would you want to get from this?”
People should be given a warning on their referral, something along the lines of: if you continue you will be asked the same questions many times by incredibly
disturbing upbeat people. They will want to induct introduce you to their cult group and brainwash you teach you their ways.
I have high hopes for this, I’m not pessimistic at all.
Note: the questionnaire doesn’t fit for me at all. I’ve had to photocopy the lot and fill it in twice, write notes instead of ticking boxes on a scale, and have probably ruined the whole system. Oops. They will rue the day they heard my name. . .