RTFM

...or at least make a few phone calls.

Back in the days when I was in IT (once called IS, once called Data Processing), newcomers would have a trial by fire. People would be helpful at first, but once the newcomer started dragging on you, it was perfectly acceptable to bark, "RTFM!" (Read the F*ing Manual.)

Alas, there is no manual for BIID. There are some scholarly and not-so-scholarly articles in journals and the usual "Eww!" response from the disability community, but serious scholars and researchers are thin on the ground. And if they're on the ground, they should get up and get back to work. Pronto.

I've been seeing a good but wildly expensive psychiatrist, Dr. Yow, for a couple of months. When he last called to see how I was doing, I told him that there was likely a wheelchair in my future. He instantly offered me an appointment.

When I went to see him, he told me again that he thought this is a form of OCD and was surprised that the SSRI I'm taking didn't seem to help with this.

"Of course," he said indulgently, "It's possible that this is a form of fantasy that you're acting out."

Dude. Whatever.

I told him that there is doctor researching BIID who is surprised that he never gets calls from psychiatrists treating people with BIID. Then I gave him Dr. Researcher's name.

Another indulgent smile. Dude. Have you been nipping at your own free samples cabinet?

Dr. Yow said, "I know Dr. Researcher. We were at school together."

Good. You'll feel comfortable calling him and chewing the fat with him about me. And Dr. Researcher may tell you that I am not fantasizing and that BIID doesn't usually respond all the well to SSRIs.

And who do you think referred me to you, hmm?

I'm not doing your homework for you. I gave him Dr. Researcher's phone number. I got a new set of scripts, because the meds he has me on seem to be working well. And another appointment. And if he hasn't called Dr. Researcher by then, all discussion of BIID ends.