Attending a new hospital for one of her numerous chronic conditions, Johanna Gilmore, 34, began to fill out a single-page intake form despite having her massive opus of medical history in hand. She soon realized it was a futile task and scanned the scant document in amusement.
“Seriously? Only five lines for family history?” laughed Gilmore, opening the dusty volume to an illustrated family tree depicting the ancient lineage of her inherited medical conditions. “I spent days on this.”
The form requested her to list her current medications in five lines, as if she hadn’t already meticulously crafted the Apothecary Concordance of her world. The “Surgeries and Hospitalizations” section couldn’t possibly be big enough to encapsulate the major events that shaped her world.
“It’s honestly kind of insulting,” Gilmore said, showing off each colored tab that referenced various doctors, specialists and sages. “I’ve even preserved ultrasounds and placed them chronologically so you have a timeline of the topographical shifts in my body. And they want me to check ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”
After writing “see attached” in every blank space, Gilmore placed the form on top of the hardcover book and lugged it to the front desk, warning the receptionist not to damage the sacred text.