15. “I Tried to Explain My Diagnosis. They Called Me Dramatic.”

Reader Report – I wasn’t looking for sympathy. Just a chair to sit in.

I told them gently,
because I’ve learned not to make people uncomfortable
with the truth.

“I have POTS,” I said.
“Sometimes I get dizzy. I just need to sit down if it hits.”

They blinked.
Then grinned.

“Oh, same! I’m dizzy every Monday morning.”

They laughed.
I didn’t.

A minute later, my legs buckled.

They asked if I was having a panic attack.
Offered me water.
Told me to “breathe it out.”

I wanted to say,

“This isn’t emotional. It’s circulatory.”

But the words were swimming in the same blood
that couldn’t reach my brain fast enough.

By the time I got up,
they were back to paperwork.
The moment had passed.
Apparently, so had my credibility.

Later, someone asked how my “episode” was.
Like it was a show I’d put on.

I wasn’t looking for sympathy.
I wasn’t asking for a rescue.

I just wanted
a f*cking chair.

And maybe—
the radical concept
that not everything invisible
is imaginary.

Sometimes, being seen
means passing out first.