I have a chronic illness, and so I received quite a few sterling gems in the months between onset and accurate diagnosis. I had one GP let's call him Dr Douche. I promise, it's the kindest way I could describe him. "The jacket means I know things." He came up with wilder and wilder theories as to why I was sick, and kept getting sicker. It should be said beforehand that few of these theories were embodied. He was sure it was something in my ladybrains that was preventing proper function of the rest of me. Dr Douche said so much weird, wild, and just-plain-unbelievable crap over the course of my diagnosis that someday I may create a novel that incorporates it all. But this here has to be the blue ribbon winner. I was describing a symptom to him: every time I got up in the morning, when I first stood, my heart would pound, my heart rate would accelerate, and I'd feel dizzy. After a few probing questions (only in the morning? no, but it's worst in the morning) "Maybe," he said sensitively, "you're afraid." "Of standing?" I asked, just to be sure. "You think I'm afraid of standing up." Maybe he meant there was some kind of existential fear, like, we're all afraid, it's a big old universe out there, and he wanted some comfort and reassurance. Nope. The man genuinely thought I had such a profound fear of verticality, that I was having a near-panic in response to being upright. POTS, folks. It was POTS. Literally THE most common sign/symptom/syndrome of autonomic dysfunction. The most common one. He could've confirmed right there in the office with a poor man's tilt table test, if he knew to Mayo Clinic had to confirm with expensive instruments because he'd never heard of a disease that affects 1/100 teenagers and between 13 million people in the United States! Would've done better with this Doctor. Question: How does the person with autonomic dysfunction feel about being diagnosed correctly? Options: - He is relieved - he is fearful - not enough information - he is mad === The correct answer is
not enough information

I have unfriended someone over his near daily harassment of me to come over to his way of thinking. Way back in 2006, when Facebook was a young whelp and I had a newborn who steadfastly refused to sleep at night, I would sit and connect with old friends from university and high school, many of whom I had not seen or spoken with in more than a decade. One of those people was Scott. Scott was a super nice guy. He was a year ahead of me at university. He was a bit socially awkward but you really couldn't hope to meet a more genuine individual. Like most people, Scott had had some ups and downs in his life. At some point he found religion. Like he really, really found it. Now, I am somewherere between an agnostic and an atheist but my attitude is generally live and let live. But Scott couldn't do that. Almoost every day he would send me some sort of message. "What do you pray about?" I don't. "God loves you, he gave his son for you, why don't you love Him?" Because I don't believe He or his Son exist. "What are you going to say when you die and stand before Satan instead of God?" Missed that by a mile, didn't I? This went on for a few months. His questions became increasing unhinged and the only thing that mattered to him were his beliefs. Mine were of no consequence. I had asked him, politely at first and then more assertively, to stop bombarding me with his attempts to convert me or to witness to me. All to no avail. Finally, I'd had enough and decided I had better things to do. I pulled the plug and unfriended Scott. He's sent me several friend requests over the years, all of which I have summarily ignored. Question: What did Scott continue saying? Options: - something atheistic - something agnostic - not enough information - something religious === The correct answer is
something religious

Juliette Murray was, like me, a kid at school who got 5 "A"s, which in the West of Scotland put a certain degree of pressure on one's shoulders to study either medicine or law. I studied European Law, and became a teacher - that's what a European Law degree does to you. She studied medicine and is today a practicing doctor, but the education bug is firmly rooted in what she chose to do next. Murray noticed that, particularly in her local area, fewer students were applying to study medicine than the population number would suggest should. Not only that, nationally the number of medical students dropping out after beginning their course of study is increasing. She wondered if we might we persuade a more representative cross section of the community to become doctors. She set about improving the opportunities for local youngsters, aged 14/5, at the time of their work experience choices. Existing work experience for those who want to gain an insight into the world of medical doctors is a sanitised course in an educational skills centre, where bored teenagers endlessly take each other's blood pressure. They have more chance of a realistic insight by breaking their arm and turning up to Accident and Emergency. As any dad-to-be donning surgical greens knows, getting into an operating theatre is where a passion for surgery will be born or, in my case, definitely put to one side as a career option. So, the question became: how might we offer a more realistic experience of what being a doctor, surgeon or other medical profession feels like? Starting with her local hospital, Wishaw General in NHS Lanarkshire, she set about overcoming what she describes as a "culture of obstacles". Two years later, though, and students are indeed undertaking real life surgery work experience, experiencing a live operation theatre and seeing the pressure of the job first hand. Question: What was Juliette's degree in Options: - not enough information - Medicine - Law - Education === The correct answer is
Medicine