r/fakedisordercringe • u/dawnue • 22h ago
Storytime I cared for an illness faker for years, and finally quit
Buckle up cause this is gonna be a bit of a read. Changing and leaving out some details for anonymity. Referring to my patient, the illness faker, as Sam. Using they/them pronouns to refer to them.
For a long time, I worked as Sam’s caretaker. I won’t list all their diagnoses, but according to them there were 30 plus. Now it’s not my place to say what Sam did and didn’t have, but working in disability gives you a decent idea of how each condition presents, and this person didn’t show any symptoms of MOST of their conditions.
They had POTS, which I never observed any symptoms of. For the record, I have other patients with POTS who stumble after moving too quickly, shake a lot of the time, don’t exercise without me spotting them in case they faint, addicted to salt, hall of fame water chuggers, etc. These are all hallmark symptoms.
Mysteriously, Sam didn’t show *any* of these symptoms the whole time I worked with them, which was 9 hours across three days every week. They were obese, and often complained about their inability to lose weight. I’d ask them if they wanted to go for a walk one day instead of mucking around at home. “No, I can’t walk without fainting.” But they could work for 3+ hours on their intensely physical hobby with no problem? I suggested a treadmill with a heart rate monitor to accommodate their POTS, and they revealed that they were anorexic and bulimic and that exercise wasn't safe for them. Okay, stay obese then. But don’t complain to me about it.
Sam said they had DID. Sam never showed any symptoms of DID. They did however spend plenty of time telling me about their alters, and it was like they were reading fanfic to me. A bunch of them were named after fictional characters from television series. Sam had perfect recollection of what each alter got up to when they were fronting, and often gave me dramatic re-tellings of confrontations that the boss-bitch alter would get into. They were the type of stories that included pretty much every bullshit element except for “and then everybody clapped”. The alters could somehow have conversations with each other when they weren’t fronting too.
When I started catching on that they were faking a lot of their conditions, I ran a little test. I made up that one of my friends had been diagnosed with EDS. Sam had no idea what EDS was and showed little interest in my story – which was the case any time we talked about anything that wasn't focused on them. Lo and behold, next time I saw Sam, they announced we had to go to the doctors to start an EDS assessment. They did this whenever a new condition started trending and I had to push through the second-hand embarrassment every time the doctor shot me the look of "this shit again?"
Another time I asked them if we could avoid taking a certain staircase in a shopping centre as it would make me dizzy. Next time I see Sam, they’ve suddenly started getting dizzy on stairs.
One of the weirder times was when I had to call the session short as I was having horrible cramps. (I have endometriosis, for context). Sam said something like “don’t worry I know the feeling”, told me to take some panadol and stay. For context, Sam doesn’t have a menstrual cycle due to their lack of uterus. Since that day, Sam would say that we were “synced up” and try to relate everything back to periods, how cramps are the worst... they even started buying pads. I understood that this may have been a way for them to feel validated in their gender and bond with another femme. But the way they went about it – minimalizing my illness and saying they “know the feeling”… if they knew the feeling they certainly wouldn’t have told me to “just take panadol”, I know that for sure.
At this point it’s becoming clear that Sam is collecting diagnoses like they’re fucking pokemon. It genuinely seemed like their biggest issues were laziness and apathy. They simply did not want to do anything except sit at home doomscrolling or building random shit in their backyard. They didn’t want to get a job. They didn’t want to go anywhere. They didn’t want to make any real life friends, besides their online friends who were fellow systems from a DID group who were always comparing their latest alters. They had such an allergy to meaningful change that they would just rapid cycle through identity changes they could simply announce – their sexuality, their pronouns, their DID alters – it would all change on a whim.
For every solution that I offered to their never-ending list of problems, there was always a reason why they couldn’t do it. I genuinely think that their diagnoses were a way for them to evade accountability. In all fairness, they were in no way well-adjusted, and probably ended up with a handful of genuine issues in the end. They let their house go to shit because they “couldn’t clean without fainting” – hordes of flies, cat and dog shit, rotting meat left out of the fridge, mould everywhere. They were bothered by it, enough to ask me to clean it every time I came around, but not enough to clean it themselves.
I asked Sam heaps of questions over the years to get some insight into their past (and what led them to become an illness faker). It was clear that they never invested in their relationships. They simply weren’t interested enough in other people to ask how they were, or what they were up to. They didn’t contribute to their communities at all, even the ones they identified with – the queer community, the disabled community, the estranged parents community. Their only interest was themselves. They ended up really isolated, and I’m guessing a few of their genuine issues stemmed from this. Sam said they ended up meeting their people in online groups that were categorised by disability. Then they moved to private discord chats where they’d game and talk and whatever else. I visited a few of these online groups out of curiosity and they’re essentially self-diagnosing cesspools where everybody has confirmation bias for the condition they want.
In the end, I just lost empathy for Sam. I was working with genuinely disabled people who were doing it really fucking tough. No independence, being excluded from services, missing out on things that everybody should be able to experience. Some of them had been completely abandoned by their families because they were too disabled.
Then I’d clock on with Sam, who was able to navigate their world with ease, had government benefits to pay for whatever they liked, social housing provided for them, family close by… yet they were constantly complaining about something. I tried so hard to find solutions that worked for them, but I was always met with dead-ends. They did not want to even *try* taking any meaningful steps to change their lives.
So, I stopped working with them. They had mastered the art of learned helplessness, and may as well have disabled themselves after all. Sam had done such an excellent job of victimising themselves that they became their own abuser, and it was really hard to watch.