Read the following vocabulary words.
A. Define
B. Use each (correctly) in a complete sentence
1. NORMAL
A. Test results—based on hypothetical human beings who’ve never actually existed—that reassure a medical professional no additional concern needs to be paid to the patient.
B. My doctors throw around the word “normal” like Oprah giving away studio audience gifts—“This is normal, and that’s normal, and those are normal, too!”—without once performing a physical exam.
2. FINE
A. An imaginary state of being where the body experiences no pain, discomfort, irritation, exhaustion, or weakness and is capable of performing an average human’s daily tasks without a single complaint.
B. If I choose to say the words “I’m fine,” it is entirely unnecessary to follow them up with such hurtful responses as, “Are you sure,” “You don’t look fine,” “Are you trying not to cry,” or “Then why are you limping?”
3. FEELING
A. A word used to inquire about a person’s mental, physical, or psychological well-being, always spoken in a soft voice, utilizing a sympathetic expression, and with the intent of gaining a negative response.
B. I was struck by a fully loaded convoy after falling down five staircases and serving as a pinata for a kindergarten class armed with professional-level baseball bats after spending a month avoiding sleep and drinking three vats of hydrochloric acid. How do you think I’m feeling?
4. HURT
A. The politically correct term used to describe when intolerable agony has taken up residence within the body (or brain) so as not to over-exaggerate the concept of pain and admit a person may be on the verge of screaming.
B. My hands are permanently dented from using every possible surface as a crutch, there’s a patchwork of bruising down my arms from slamming into walls, the knit pattern of my sock is imprinted into the swollen flesh of my ankle, and I cannot physically fit a shoe over my foot, but, no, I don’t think I’m hurt.
5. PAIN
A. A figment of the imagination in which the brain desires narcotics, attention, or both and thus convinces the body to perform an elaborate charade that may include crying, convulsing, screaming, wincing, whimpering, or loss of consciousness (all of the above if the person is an exceptionally accomplished actor).
B. Under no circumstances—despite my inability to stand or sit upright, draw a full breath, detach my hands from my lower abdomen, cease tears from escaping my eyes, or explain the strange moaning sounds coming from my mouth—will I acknowledge I am in pain and give you the satisfaction of declaring me weak.
6. QUIET
A. A highly suspicious state in which a person is assumed to be concocting a plan of deception (even though they are no longer a toddler) as only those wailing and screaming are suffering (theoretically).
B. Asking me if I am “okay” when I have retreated into my quiet phase is equivalent to poking a bear brandishing its claws and teeth in your direction: you are entirely responsible for the ensuing carnage as the pent-up turmoil is unleashed in your direction.
7. LIAR
A. All patients lacking physical manifestations of their symptoms and continuing to insist on illness or pain in the face of unremarkable test results.
B. How many times can a doctor call a person a “liar” before they begin to use the language on themselves and doubt the signals sent by their body, even in cases of severe trauma and genuine emergencies?
8. ADDICT
A. A person who insists they are experiencing pain in the absence of physical wounds (e.g., cuts, bruises, severed limbs, etc.) or evidence of significant internal damage (e.g., bleeding, tumors, inflammation, cysts, etc.).
B. If I stand in front of you and demand answers and further testing, insisting there is something frightfully wrong with my body, and agree to undergo any drug screening you wish throughout the process, will you believe me when I say I’m not an addict?
9. EXCUSE
A. The quick-witted responses generated as to why someone does not need to continue doing their job or fulfilling their Hippocratic Oath to bring peace of mind to a (most likely) annoying individual who insists they have a problem.
B. I’m particularly fond of the excuse that my symptoms are not in your realm of expertise—justifying your suggestion I seek professional help—when your wall is plastered with diplomas and certificates proclaiming your many and varied talents.
10. SICK
A. A conceptual state in which a person experiences theoretical deviations from standard health for brief moments throughout the day, providing them with excuses not to work, socialize, or engage with other human beings.
B. How would you like me to justify the half-life of my existence so that my use of the words “I am sick” is equivalent to your sniffles and loss of two hours of sleep last night?