Resolve my disability

I can't believe it! You ask me what my disability is, I yell, how can it be that after being my doctor for over 15 years you can't see what is bothering me? What exactly it is I am paying you for? Doodling again?

The man in front of me made me furious. I bet he is doing it on purpose to change the amount of meds I am taking which he is the only person who benefits from. Those pill factories will cheer if he orders more and more. I noticed his patients each one of them, sitting in the waiting room are all losers like me, stuffed with pills. It's a good thing no one can see through them. Imagine how that would look like seeing all those meds taken piled up.

I know you hate that chair, said the doctor while taking off his pair of glasses, but there's nothing I can do for you except saying learn to live with it!

Are you kidding me? I don't care about this wheelchair, sitting in it, not being able to use my legs is not my disability! Do I need to spell out why I am here or should I make a drawing of it on that piece of paper you are using to doodle during my consult?

Be my guest, was all he said and so I did. I showed the guy what it is to be me, what surrounds me, is in my mind driving me crazy. All those mad faces yelling and screaming demanding and ordering me around. He studied my colourful painting and said: it's not bad, not bad at all, you should be an artist but if it comes to your disability I can't resolve it. I am not a psychiatrist you know but an orthopaedic