What hole does the amoeba-shaped peg fit in?

For a year and a half now, Bad Cohen has been suffering from progressively severe symptoms of some undiagnosed illness. Possibly more than one illness. Hard to say. No diagnosis.



So, not only have we spent lots of money on futile tests, but he's had the fun of feeling very very ill, without any outward physical markers or biomedical name to validate to others that he is, in fact, ill. His spouse (moi) has tried to be sympathetic, make sure he gets enough rest, eats well, etc., while also swinging back and forth between thinking, "if only I can help him enough, I'm sure he'll get well" and "damnit, I can't do everything myself! You're just being lazy/hypochondriac/depressed..."



Not to mention that the doctors really don't want to deal with him. Since, you know, he just points out that they don't, in fact, have all the answers. That not everything fits neatly into their current model of biomedicine.



Without a diagnosis, they can't treat him, they can't even "manage" his "disease." All they can do is speculate, and research, and send him on for more and more tests, to new and different specialists.



Anyway, all of this is just me venting, and also a short explanation of why my blogging has dropped off lately.