Apotheosis of the Diagnosis
We love to receive a diagnosis. We love to discuss our diagnosis, to compare, to brag, to share. We are a bit obsessed with our labels, and find ourselves in easy conversation about them with the slightest provocation. We even allow ourselves to marinate in them so we can use them as an excuse to relax a bit our high standards for ourselves.
Anxiety of the Uncertain
First, it is a relief to name a problem because the name makes it known, identified, and manageable. Uncertainty can be taken to wild places with a little imagination. A small pain is one google search and medMD quiz away from the possibility of some rare life sentence disease. The potential fears can play as horror films in our minds. But to name is to take control. To name is to set parameters and distinguish: the problem is this, but it is not those other possibilities. So a diagnosis inoculates against our own fear of the unknown. Even if the diagnosis is cancer, the doctor gives statistics, terms to look up, contact information of support groups to empathize with, and the ability to hunt through Wikipedia and WebMD with more precision. To name is to know more and to take some power over the diagnosis.
Sense of Being Extraordinary
People enjoy talking about themselves, so what better way to have fodder for our favorite subject than something that makes us interesting, needy, unique, and worthy of attention. A diagnosis is something that proves our humanity, that validates our existence by a scientific authority, that confirms our identity as a victim, that invites others to wish us well with their sincerest sympathy, that distinguishes us from those boring people who talk only of themselves. Of course, we become the one who talks only of ourself, but now we have justification. We might tell ourselves that we share our experience in discussions with others so that they might be informed when they see some symptom that they want to investigate. But really, some people, once knighted as a victim, are so caught up in their dying identity that they forget to live. As long as they can grasp onto the identity of their diagnosis, they can be special and receive the attention and sympathy appropriate to their identity. We are of course different from those other boring people who only talk about themselves because we are justified by the diagnosis.
Sense of Belonging
It is usually the case that others have their own diagnosis to share. Many people share their diagnosis, to the point that listening to each others’ diagnoses in turns becomes a sort of bonding ritual. Emotional individuals find a connection with others when they can share this intimate exposure of the self in exchange for mutual vulnerability in the storytelling of their physical, social, mental, or just aging diagnoses. Family may find they have similar diagnoses, or strangers may find a way to empathize with each other. Requesting sympathy, and giving sympathy in return, is an easy way to connect and create a sense of belonging.
Excuse to Deflect Blame
The disease gives a name to blame instead of ourselves. It is not we who are socially awkward, it is our autism. It is not we who are offending our host, it is our medical problem that restricts our diet. It is not we who are bad at our studies, it is our trouble to focus. It is not we who punched that jerk, it is our anger problem. It is not we who are selfish, it is our horoscope. When we can name the demon inside us, we can name who is at fault besides ourself when that demon has earned some blame. And thus excused, we find it very easy to not hold ourself accountable even to ourself. Even when we are aware of our poorly masked bad faith, we can name the diagnosis and easily become impotent to our own standards.