CountChristoph

The drowsy blossoms, white and unaware Hung upon the heavy branches heady As the sweetness in the air, and with me You walked beneath those hawthorns full and fair. I now say that I love without compare That grove with flowers strung on ev'ry tree That path we took, so dark and so lovely— I did not know how much I'd love it there. But I cannot think how to find such shade Without your hand entwined and warming mine And now it seems our dreams we once had made Have we, afraid, now all of them betrayed. Yet if you'll take the berries; I the wine— Again we'll find each other in that glade.

I suffered quite badly from Medical Student Syndrome in my first year of studying, to the point where I no longer trust myself to diagnose even the common cold when it comes to my own body. Not that it was ever the simple ones I thought I had - it never works that way. The rare ones, the ones that are hard to diagnose, the ones that have such few outward symptoms that they slip past professionals time and time again, those were the ones I obsessed over. That was twenty years ago and I still don't trust myself to self-diagnose athough I'm sure I'd never make those mistakes again. I've devoted my career to those rare disorders that had me so h