As a clinician, I fantasize about being the heroic detective who notices those obscure facts that others would miss, coming up with the life saving diagnosis when all others had failed. This, unfortunately, is not how it usually works when dealing with real human patients, and my desire to find a single diagnosis to explain what is going on can actually distract me from finding the answers my patients need.
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"I'm kind of stumped here," I confessed to her, going through my list of possible causes. Together we discussed the possible options of diagnostic testing and treatment. While we talked, she continued showing a glimmer of fear in her eyes. It wasn't that she thought she'd die from this, and I don't even believe it was a fear that I couldn't help her; it was a fear I would tell her the grass was not green. Maybe her reality isn't real. Maybe she is crazy.
Doctor and patient. Insecurity meets insecurity. Weak helping weak.