Doc: Hi, what can I do for you?
Me : Hi, I'm here to update my sick note, I had an accident in July?
Doc: Ok....
Me: Um....have you read about it? It happened on the 22nd July.
(Doc gets flustered now, starts scrolling manically through my notes, hovering around 22nd September)
Doc: Let me see, let me see. Nothing here. Um, 22nd, 22nd....nothing! There's nothing here.
Me: 22nd July....no...July, that's September.
(Still looking at September intently, as though it might spontaneously change into July)
Doc: No nothing here. So, what happened?
(I explain here, as briefly as possible. I don't mince my words. Doctor looks perturbed.)
Doc: Oh dear.
(Scrolls up...)
Doc: Oh, the 22nd July. I was looking at September. Sorry....
EVERY TIME!
I've been to the same practice numerous times and each time they haven't read my notes prior to my arrival. Each occasion I prompt them to do so and they spend a few essential minutes catching up with my distressing history. A couple of times, like today, they ask me to relive it.
At the moment people look very surprised, Doctor included, when I tell them what's happened. The make-up and the skillful dressing is working. I look 'normal.' I warn them if only they could see under the clothes...
Because I look 'normal,' people are not being very careful with what they say, such as Doctor this afternoon. I look ok, so I must be ok, right?
Apparently if you're traumatised, you should look traumatised. You shouldn't wear nice clothes, put make-up on and get on with business as usual. You should stop everything: cry a lot; wear a baggy tracksuit and stop washing your hair.
I have become a master of disguise. It is just that; a disguise. Under the disguise, I am a 26 year old who has had a disfiguring and traumatic accident.
