Q: Any advice on traveling with POTS?
A: Fucking don’t. You will just wish you were dead.
Q: What does a tilt table test really reveal?
A: Whether or not you can be an astronaut. Spoiler alert: you can’t.
Q: But oh Wild Divine–wherever did my POTS come from?
A: It really doesn’t matter. Like REALLY it does not matter.
Q: My doctor doesn’t “believe” I have POTS. What can I do to convince him?
A: Didn’t your momma ever tell you not to chase after boys who don’t want you? Go find someone else who will treat you like a human being.
Q: Should I get a medical alert bracelet for my POTS?
A: Do you pass out in public often enough to warrant an explanation? If so, yes.
Q: I’m worried people will look at me funny if I park handicapped, but have no visual disability.
A: Will you be less worried if you crack your head open on the sidewalk?
Q: What should I do about blood pooling?
A: Stand less. Buy a handbell for more efficient service.
Q: What should be done in the ER for POTS?
A: Replace fluids. Exit stage left before they try to give you an unnecessary catscan.
Q: How should I explain what POTS feels like to other people?
A: On a good day? Imagine drinking four cups of coffee while continuously driving your car around a roundabout. On a bad day: Imagine you’re on a boat in the middle of a hurricane. Someone is holding you upside down and force-feeding you crystal meth. Or maybe just tell them it’s like fibromyalgia. People don’t like long descriptions.