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athenamangoes 's review for:
Sick: A Memoir
by Porochista Khakpour
4/5
I have spent most of my adult life as a hypochondriac, and an obnoxious one at that. Throughout college, I'd have panic attacks that felt like death. The first time I got drunk I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror and asked my siblings if this was a normal paleness or if something was wrong. I've reached an agreement with almost everyone in my life: I'm not allowed on Web M.D. anymore. My therapist has calmly reassured me that most of the things I'm scared of are curable, detectable, and rare in someone so young. Still, with these anxieties in mind, I wasn't sure if reading Sick was a good idea. It doesn't take much to trigger my anxiety. But I decided to give it a try.
Sick is a rollercoaster of a memoir. Porochista Khakpour walks us through her life, place by place, constantly sick and searching for something: a diagnosis, a cure, just a good nights sleep. She highlights the terror of simply not knowing. While we the audience understand from the get-go that she has Lyme Disease, the driving force of this book is figuring out what is making Khakpour so sick. The author details how the relationship with her body and illness has impacted her relationships with others, from doctors to family. The chapters where she goes from doctor to healer, friend to relative and decides they're all untrustworthy, is heartbreaking. So often she's dismissed as mentally ill, all the while her health deteriorating; it's a ridiculously common scenario for women. Though she eventually reaches a diagnosis, there is no solid conclusion.
I'd be lying if I said I read through this without the urge to pore over Web M.D. I'm glad I've read Sick, but I'm never going to read it again. This book is not an easy read, but it's an incredibly valuable one.
I have spent most of my adult life as a hypochondriac, and an obnoxious one at that. Throughout college, I'd have panic attacks that felt like death. The first time I got drunk I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror and asked my siblings if this was a normal paleness or if something was wrong. I've reached an agreement with almost everyone in my life: I'm not allowed on Web M.D. anymore. My therapist has calmly reassured me that most of the things I'm scared of are curable, detectable, and rare in someone so young. Still, with these anxieties in mind, I wasn't sure if reading Sick was a good idea. It doesn't take much to trigger my anxiety. But I decided to give it a try.
Sick is a rollercoaster of a memoir. Porochista Khakpour walks us through her life, place by place, constantly sick and searching for something: a diagnosis, a cure, just a good nights sleep. She highlights the terror of simply not knowing. While we the audience understand from the get-go that she has Lyme Disease, the driving force of this book is figuring out what is making Khakpour so sick. The author details how the relationship with her body and illness has impacted her relationships with others, from doctors to family. The chapters where she goes from doctor to healer, friend to relative and decides they're all untrustworthy, is heartbreaking. So often she's dismissed as mentally ill, all the while her health deteriorating; it's a ridiculously common scenario for women. Though she eventually reaches a diagnosis, there is no solid conclusion.
I'd be lying if I said I read through this without the urge to pore over Web M.D. I'm glad I've read Sick, but I'm never going to read it again. This book is not an easy read, but it's an incredibly valuable one.