I’d always been optimistic that when and if the mystery of me was solved, it could be fixed; now I was being told that whatever had gone wrong inside my head was permanent and, from all indications, unfixable. Repeatedly, I ran up against words like “debilitating,” “baffling,” “chronic,” “catastrophic,” “devastating,” and “loss.” For the rest of my life. The rest of my life. It felt more like a death sentence than a medical diagnosis.
