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The next day, the was an email from Danny in the inbox. I opened it expecting to see an apology from him. Instead, he said, "...at least I don't pretend to have diseases that I don't have. You don't have Tourette Syndrome. If you're going to lie about it, at least do some research so you can look like you've got it". I snapped. Not only had he hurt my feelings the day before, he had now called me a liar AND denied the existence of my TS. I cried, I screamed, I ranted and raved. I sent back a flaming email that would have made a Hell's Angel blush. I called his home number, and when nobody answered, I left a furious message on the answering machine. I knew his parents would have very low opinions of me from then on, but I didn't care. I don't think I have ever been so hurt, angry or ashamed in all my life. Surprisingly enough, his replies were not pleasant. I didn't care - he had betrayed my trust and my love and made me feel about two inches tall. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted his girlfriend to cheat on him or give him herpes or something equally nasty. I wanted him to crash his stupid car. I wanted him to feel as bad as he'd made me feel. That incident was the impetus I needed to make me try and get a referral to the TS specialist who had diagnosed Marcus. I went that day to my GP and told her, "I think I have Tourette Syndrome", and asked for a referral. She laughed at me and grilled me for half an hour as to why I was so certain that my "silly" self diagnosis was worth the time and money of a specialist consult. I stated my case and eventually wangled a referral letter to Dr Beech who works out of the Mater Private Hospital in Brisbane. << >> |