The Diagnosis

I nervously flicked out my wrist as I sat in the cold chair.

Why did doctor's offices always have to be so freezing?

It's the 21 Century, I thought anxiously as the cold bit into my arms with frosty teeth, heaters exist.

Dr. Jones pointed at my wrist with his pen. He'd finally finished scribbling down everything I'd told him.

"That a new one?" He asked.

"No, I've had the tic for a while now." I told him, rubbing my arms. A sudden rush of irritation filled my mind. Why didn't they turn on the heater? "So? Do I have Tourette's or not?"

I'd suspected I'd had Tourette's Syndrome for a while, but was only seeking a diagnosis now. My cognitive abilities seemed to be getting worse, also, so I thought I might have ADHD as well. I'd never been able to focus well.

Dr. Jones clicked his pen before saying, "We're still assessing you. But in the meantime, you may benefit from having someone to talk to about this. Would you like me to refer you a therapist?"

I mumbled something under by breath. Everyone was always suggesting I should get a therapist, since I got irritated so easily and seemed to not be coping well with my worsening conditions.

Maybe if I finally got one, though, I could get them off my back.

"Sure." I sighed.

"I'll make sure to send you one." He clicked his pen a final time, then packed everything up and walked to the door. "Have a wonderful day, Abigail."

"Sure, sure."

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"And how does that make you feel?"

"Alone. Like nobody really understands just how angry I get when something upsets me. They think I'm too irascible, but I can't help it. I don't have control over my emotions. I think... I think that makes me feel a little helpless."

"And it's totally normal to feel that way. Everybody's different; some people can stay calm through anything, and some people get angry at the smallest things." My therapist, Glenda, said, "But that's doesn't mean you're helpless, dear. There are plenty of coping strategies people use when they feel like they're not in control, such as using breathing techniques, pursuing a special hobby, and even just changing their scene. Whenever I get upset, I like to go outside and smell the fresh air. Do you think that might work for you, dear?"

"No, you don't understand," I pressed, my fingers curling and flexing. That was one of my more minor tics. "My anger isn't normal anger. It's fire and lava and burning meteors all combined into one ball of fury in my mind. Sometimes I feel like a boiling pot of tar. When other people get anger, they can control it. I can't control it."

Glenda's expression softened.

"It doesn't feel good to feel out of control, huh?" She said, speaking gently. I hung my head slightly. "You know, I've had tons of clients like you who would come in saying they feel such an extreme anger like yours. And life certainly does have its ups and downs. But if you just learn specific ways to deal on it instead of exploding on someone--"

"No!" I shouted, standing up from my chair, "No, you don't understand! Nobody understands! It's not easy for me! I can't just stuff it down or go outside and immediately feel better like you can!"

"Dear, I'm not saying--"

"Why can't anyone understand what I'm going through?"

"I understand you must feel upset, but--"

"Life isn't an easy thing for me! I'm not living, I'm surviving! And if you can't--"

A rush of dizziness filled my head, and I swayed on my feet. I sat back in my chair, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

"I can't control it." I whispered softly, trying to hold back my tears. My nose twitched-- a tic I did when I was sad. "I can't control it, and I don't know why."

Glenda's hand was on my shoulder, then. I hadn't heard her come around her desk.

"My dear, it seems to me that you may have bipolar disorder."

"No." I wiped my nose on my sleeve. "I think I have ADHD."

"Well... do you have anyone with a disorder in you family? Of any kind?"

"No." I sniffed.

"Do you mind if I refer you to get a blood test?" She asked after a moment, walking back to her desk.

I sighed. More tests.

"That's fine." I said, even though I didn't know what for. Maybe I had a disease that was making me like this.

"What did you say your symptoms were, again?" Glenda asked.

"Tics, balance problems, emotional dysregulation, trouble organizing things, depression, fatigue, and a ton more I can't remember. Which is another thing." I said, tapping my head, "Memory problems."

She finished scribbling everything down hastily.

"Alright, dear, I believe our time is up." She said, checking her watch. "It was lovely seeing you, feel free to come back whenever you need to. And remember, if you ever have thoughts of hurting yourself, give me a call."

I sighed and gave her a fake smile, then walked shakily out the door to the office, feeling like I could fall apart at any second.

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The needle slid into my arm, and I watched as my blood slid through the tube and filled the little container it was attached to.

Once they had three vials, they removed it and bandaged my arm. But I didn't feel it. It was one of those days where I was just numb.

"Are you alright, Abigail?" Someone asked. Their voice took a moment to register in my head.

"Fine." I replied softly. I shook my head to clear the fog, but it clung to me. I could hardly remember what I ate for breakfast that morning.

If I even ate breakfast at all.

Then they sent on me on my way, so I got drowsily in my car and quickly drove home. The second I arrived, fatigue pulled at me and I collapsed on the couch, my eyes drifting shut before I could decide whether or not I had time to take a nap.

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"Your blood test results are back, and we have your diagnosis!"

The doctor was speaking all to cheerily about news that would probably change my life-- for better or worse, I didn't know.

"Well? I have Tourette's, don't I?" I asked eagerly, my foot tapping against the ground, my facial tics going wild. "Although, why would you need a blood test to figure that out?"

"Well, no--"

"Then I have ADHD. I have ADHD, right? You can't tell me I don't. I know I do."

"No, listen--"

"Well, come on! I have to have something! Is it really bipolar disorder? Maybe I have some anxiety disorder or someth--"

"ABIGAIL! PLEASE CALM DOWN!"

That silenced me.

"You don't have Tourette's, or ADHD, or Bipolar disorder, okay?" She said.

I fidgeted nervously, my brows furrowing.

"Well then... what do I have?" I asked anxiously.

"Oh, you have Huntington's Disease!"

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Heyyy, guys! I was feeling evil today, so here's an evil little story! LOL. I have Tourette's and recently learned about Huntington's disease, and when I heard that one of the symptoms was tics, I thought, "Huh, I wonder if someone could mistake Huntington's for Tourette's and ADHD."

The rest of the plot flowed from that idea!

For those of you that don't know what Huntington's is, here is a short description:

Huntington's disease is a genetic neurological disorder that causes the progressive breakdown of nerve cells in the brain. It affects movement, cognition, and emotions, worsening over time.

It's unfortunately fatal and very serious, so the quality of life for those living with the disease isn't always great. However, love and support can carry mostly anyone through the darkest of times, so if you ever meet someone with Huntington's, pray that they have a good life and maybe even offer some help!