It’s early 1983. I’m a young man of 22. I’ve had symptoms of something for two weeks (The term “CFS” would not be coined for five years). My GP has diagnosed it as "a post viral process," but, as my symptoms intensify, he refers me to a Doctor of Internal Medicine. I describe my symptoms, many of them neurological, to the new doctor. He does a physical and finds nothing wrong. I tell him that I feel like I’ve got some sort of weird infection. He considers this for a moment – and then says, “Um, do you like...science fiction?” I’m thinking to myself, “What the Hell?”, but I say, “I guess so.” He says, “Um, science fiction like…The Andromeda Strain? ” Waiter! Check please!! [On the pluse side, when I was hospitalized by a nuerologist the following week, Dr. Andromeda Strain did stop by my room to make sure that he hadn't missed something I could potentially sue him for. He was very relived that my spinal tap was normal.] I guess the point I am trying to make is that this doctor had no problem suggesting to another man he was seeing for the first time that he, the patient, was a hypochondriac who had obviously been influenced by a movie/book.