Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Now that Will and I have secured a place to live and are moving next weekend, the inevitable question of whether to tell our new housemates about our, ahem, health issues has arisen. I hate the idea of concealing them because it’s going to be awkward when the inevitable happens—it’s a small house after all—and I don’t want the owner of the house to think we’ve deceived her.

On the other hand, why would it ever be necessary for someone to disclose their medical history to their landlord? It’s not as if we need accommodations, like we would for a wheelchair or a hospital bed. All that matters is that we keep up our end of the bargain and pay the rent on time, clean up after ourselves, and not have the cops called on us. (That happened with the previous tenants, so she’s glad to get a nice, quiet “senior” couple in along with another older lady.) We all had dinner together last night with dogs circling around our feet under the dining room table, and it struck me that we just might be really happy there. Why borrow trouble?

Of course, when we interviewed with “Lisa” before seeing the house, she wanted to know what I did for a living, and I just said I was disabled due to medical problems. She didn’t pursue it, and I certainly didn’t elaborate. I’m sure it will come out at some point, because it can’t escape notice that I have mood episodes and go to the doctor on a monthly basis and take a slew of pills every day. Then again, maybe it will, because Lisa is extremely busy with work and volunteering and doesn’t even come home every night. At any rate, I’m just hoping Will’s cancer won’t be an issue and that I can hide my crazy for a good long while. I am under no illusions that I can be symptom-free forever, but could the next mood shift please wait until we’re well-established as housemates and have proven ourselves to be reliable?

Honestly though, I think having a place to go—despite the fact that it’s not really our own—will relieve a lot of the anxiety I’ve been feeling. I’m still a bit fragile, even though I’m out of the depression for the most part and considerably stronger than I was when I got out of the hospital. Then, it wouldn’t have taken much at all to land me right back in there; now, I’ve got some reserve and am rolling with the punches a little better than I was. I think I’ll be OK for real once we get settled in and figure out how we’re going to manage our new life in these unusual circumstances.

One thing’s for sure: none of us will ever have to confess to passing gas, because we’ll have four dogs we can blame for it. Haha!

Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

6 thoughts on “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

  1. You don’t need to say, BP, even if you end up hospitalized. The only time you might need to is if your behaviors directly affect someone in the house, and you have lots of good tools to use to prevent that.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. True that. I could probably get far into depression before anyone but my hubby would notice. It’s the manic side that could blow my cover, but I’m just not going to stress too much about that because that part is very well controlled.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. do not tell anyone anything..if she specify asks why the ambulance.. comes to get you.. medical say whoever was having some problems. if you need to yell do it into a pillow until hubby can get you out of house.

    Just remember she isnot a nurse and will not be going thru your room.. lock pills into a portable locked case. i found my case in COSMETIC s so you can

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Good suggestions. We only share a bathroom with the other housemate, who I hope isn’t too snoopy. The locked case would be a good thing. The pill minders can live on the nightstand in our room.


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