Look at Mr. WebMd, acts like such a smarty pants. But let’s get real: you’re a one-trick pony. I am a little tired? Oh, you have Crohn’s. I have an ache in my shoulder? Shit, probably Crohn’s. My friend left me on read. Most definitely fucking Crohn’s! You know what, if you love Crohn’s so much, MAYBE YOU’RE THE ONE WITH CROHN’S!
The other day I went out and felt super bloated. I could barely make it through a store without a very embarrassing moment. And so I went home, hoping to get some information that would help me out. And WebMD goes with the ole standby.
You know how much I would love to get a reading of Ulcerative Colitis? Or maybe a Chronic Fatigue. Hell, let’s go crazy and offer a freaking Vasculitis, just to mix things up. But nope! Crohn’s again.
You know what, WebMD? I think you’re projecting your shit on to me. Your server lagged for a minute? Must be Crohn’s. You got a little backlogged on new data? FUCKING CROHN’S! This is so clearly a cry for help.
So WebMD, how about this? Figure out what’s going on with you before you start trying to help out other people. Someone so clearly hiding from their own problems has no business telling me why I shit my pants at PetSmart. I’m tired of being your Crohn’s whipping boy. I’m tired of carrying your emotional baggage. Maybe I’m also a little tired from lack of sleep. Wait, don’t tell me. Is sleeplessness a sign of Crohn’s as well? Goddammit.
WebMd, I don’t think this is working out. I’ve been in far too many relationships where I’ve been led astray. Maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re so preoccupied with fucking telling everyone they have Crohn’s that you can’t even see the real me. The tired, bloated, achy, full of fissures, unexplained weight loss sufferer standing right next to you. But don’t worry about me. I got this. Maybe I’ll just go to a real doctor. How about that?
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Fine, I have Crohn’s.