It’s taken me a while to process this. Far too long. How you, a teacher I respected and loved learning from, could say the symptoms I experience from my two diagnosed neurological diseases (which required two brain surgeries before my 21st birthday) were exaggerated and “merely” caused by anxiety.
How you could sit in your classroom as I got up to leave for yet another painful medical procedure and tell not only me but also your entire class that I was making it all up.
How you smiled and almost laughed, encouraging my classmates to laugh, when stating that my six uncontrolled epileptic seizures a day were unreal, that the immense pain I deal with daily because of a genetic collagen disorder was fake.
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