Tomorrow I Will Lie to My Doctor

It’s always like this when I go to see a doctor who isn’t a shrink. I tell them my symptoms, and then it goes one of two ways:

Way #1 She listens to me carefully and proposes a diagnosis and a treatment plan.

Way #2 She eyes me suspiciously, wants to know how much opiate medicine I am taking, and hands me my chart back marked “irritable bowel syndrome,” which I do not have.

Let’s play a little game: which one of these doctors had access to my psych history?

Aha, I see you have guessed right.

So tomorrow when I go to see my gastro about a little issue I’ve been struggling with, I will most definitely NOT hip her to the fact that the rest of me is stuck in a heavy depression that just doesn’t want to get off of me. Kind of like “The Blob” in the old horror movie,

Nope, I am not going to tell her about that. I am going to LIE.

Leave a comment


  1. Good. It’s sad and frustrating that things have to be that way, but sometimes they do.

  2. Thanks, Ruby, I appreciate your support. I often feel angry that this seems to be the only way to cope with stigma in so many contexts.

  3. I wished that worked for me but doctors notice that there is something different about me and never treat me, I lie but they don’t believe me, I can’t fake normal, I think it’s more my autistic behaviour and body language than any mental health problem, always made me a target.

    • I definitely hear that. Mine didn’t buy it either yesterday. I came away from the appointment feeling self destructive. I’m labelled now and there’s no getting away from it.


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