When I was a teenager, if my mom thought she detected the slightest hint of hypochondria, malingering, or "woe is me" behavior, she would suggest a walk around the block. It was her cure-all. "Oh, you've been lying around all day, no wonder you feel bad--why don't you take a walk around the block?!" At the time, it was maddening. But watching Afflicted, I have never wanted to suggest so many walks around the block in my life. I just feel like these "illnesses" can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sitting around all day in your darkened bedroom, staring at the computer screen, trapped in an echo chamber of your own thoughts and those of like-minded internet denizens. . . . it can start to feel like an actual job. Pretty soon, you are ensconced in your bed like Camille in her big death scene (looking at you, Jamison).
Although, in typing this, it occurs to me how *active* a lot of the Afflicted folks were. Sure, they are expending most of their energy trying to prove that they are sick and traipsing all over creation for crackpot treatments. But in their own way, they have way more energy and determination than I, a nominally healthy, admittedly fairly lazy, person have. Huh.