Okay, I'm probably going to start another wild jump in another wild direction, but nothing ventured...
A few weeks ago I was pretty sure I was about to be diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder, because I live in the US and everybody - and I mean every medical professional I've spoken to - gives me this completely blank look when I say 'ME'.
I'd gotten an appointment at the Mayo Clinic, but I had to be referred by my GP for insurance reasons. My GP raised his voice and patronized me. Woven into his rant were the following:
- If I'd just stop researching and thinking about it so much, I'd feel better (ignore it, and it will go away!)
- I'm "just depressed" and when I'm "ready to admit" I need an SSRI, I can get one from him
- I need to acknowledge that the Mayo Clinic is a last-ditch effort that will likely yield no new information
- I need to acknowledge that if four experts in two disciplines can't find out what's wrong, there is nothing wrong.
- It was heavily implied that depression wasn't causing my neuromuscular symptoms, but that I was inventing them as a result of my depression (or other delusional states unspecified).
Note that he had been pushing SSRIs on me ever since I first became ill, without evidence or explanation as to why he thought it was a good idea. The appointment before this, he'd tried "it seems you're upset
about your illness, and I think an SSRI could help." Uhhh huh.
My Mayo visit culminated in an ITT test and a confirmation of severe adrenal insufficiency, and a tilt table test with a diagnosis of POTS. (And a lot of other 'weird stuff' consistent with what I know of ME.)
I was SO relieved to have a non-psychiatric diagnosis that I had to question what it was about having an affective disorder I would have found so profoundly shameful. Certainly the physicians seemed to think it would be: I'm thinking of their behavior towards me, pre- and post-diagnosis. Compare-contrast: delicate-disbelieving-condescending vs empathetic-kind-concerned-informative. Everyone I know says it's great to have a 'real', 'physical' diagnosis - like if I
had been diagnosed with, say, panic disorder, it would have been
spiritual. Like the brain is floating somewhere in the aether, rather than firmly in the skull, where it shares resources with the rest of our very real, very concrete bodies.
ME patients have two (very logical!) reasons for being so concerned with the issue of depression in ME. The first is that, even if some of us do have depressive symptoms, we don't want the other symptoms ignored, downplayed, or viewed as some kind of byproduct of the depression lest medical professionals think that if they treat the depression, the other symptoms will 'disappear'. The second, simpler answer is that we don't want to be treated the way that the world treats people with mental disorders. That is, abysmally. We want ME firmly in the 'real', the 'concrete', the 'physical', because anything else would mean we would be treated with even more condescension than we are now.
Everything that is happening to me is happening in my body, and my brain lives here. It's bathing in (mostly) the same hormonal soup as the rest of me. This illness is neuro-immuno-endocrine, so it affects my hormones and to claim that doesn't affect my behavior at all would imply I am above my own chemical makeup.
At the same time, I clicked 'no'. I love this world and the people in it, and I see the future as a positive place. I think I identify depression as a pattern of thinking/feeling that I don't believe I express. But I hovered the mouse over both buttons for quite some time.
-J