Diagnosed. by Carie Sherman

Carie ShermanIt was August of 2011. I had just returned from a weekend at the beach with my best girlfriends. We spent three days lounging like lizards with drinks in hand, carrying on as if we were 21 again.

I returned a hot mess. After a week of what I believed was worst hangover ever, I turned to my primary care doctor. After my exam, she suggested I see a rheumatologist. I can’t remember asking her why. I trusted her, so I went.

Man, rheumatologists take a LOT of blood.

By the time I went in for my follow-up, I’d convinced myself my diagnosis would be extreme laziness.

After all, I’d just changed careers. Moving from a relatively stressful corporate job to a lot less stressful “freelancer” status totally fit Diagnosis Lazy. My daughter had just turned one. Aren’t all new 35-year old moms tired?
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