only on the stairs. fine by the time I get to the top.
A record of when things started
How long has this been going on?
The one question every doctor asks, and the one nobody can answer. This is the answer, written down as it happens.
It takes four seconds.
Where it is. How much. In your own words, if you have them. Then it is out of your head and into a record that keeps the date for you.
always worse at night. I keep thinking it will just go away.
woke up with it already there.
I thought it was just stress.
Six months later, it is still there.
Not a streak. Not a score. A record. Quiet weeks are just quiet weeks — nothing here counts them against you.
Seven minutes with a doctor. Be ready for them.
One page. First date, how often, your own words. Print it, or hand them the phone.
The appointment
“How long has this been happening?”
You have been asked this before. You have always guessed.
“Ever Since March 3rd.”
This time you are reading it, not guessing.
Twelve entries. You wrote every one of them, on the day it happened.
No account yet. One email when it opens, then nothing.