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if it’s because of me or something else.
    Still, I feel pretty good about being in school today. I don’t know if it’s my new medicine or not. I’ve been completely off Haldol for a while, and Dr. Pressler has replaced it with Cogentin. This is yet another medicine made for something else, in this case for people with Parkinson’s disease. Parkinson’s sufferers have problems with the way their bodies move, so I guess that’s a good reason to try it on me.
    Dr. Pressler will do anything to help. She’s very disappointed that she hasn’t found a great medicine for me like she has for hundreds of other children.
    So far Cogentin is better than Haldol. Or maybe it’s just that the Haldol is wearing off. I never know. A lot of my wild behavior has stopped, especially the feeling that I might need to curse. Haldol gave me an unbelievable appetite. Now my body is doing some new things. I guess that could just be a sign of getting worse as I get older.
    The real problem is that it’s hard to know what’s causing what, with everything going on at the same time. There are all the different medicines with different doses and combinations, and the time of year. Spring usually seems to be the worst. Then there is the stress of school and of the way Tourette’s always changes, getting worse, then better, then worse again. It’s called
waxing and waning.
With all this, none of my doctors have been able to figure out precisely what’s going on, so whenever they prescribe a new medicine, it’s always just a guess.
    The best thing about school this year is my teacher, Mrs. Erlanger. She never ever lets the other kids make fun of me. She’s explained to them that just because my body moves, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me, and that it’s no big deal.
    Today I promise to be extra good in class for her. Today I’m going to be a “Tourette’s angel.”

Chapter 16
    BY THE END OF THE MORNING, things are going well. Mrs. Erlanger has called on me almost every time I’ve raised my hand. She praises me a lot and never lets my ticcing bother her. She tells my mother that she loves the way I always contribute in class. I can’t tell you how great that makes me feel — like I’m a regular kid.
    Things change at lunch.
    I see my two old neighborhood friends sitting alone at a table, and there’s an empty seat next to them. I sit down and say hi. They look at each other, then just get up and leave. They never say anything; they just take off. I feel so bad I can’t stand it. They go to sit with their other friends.
    After that I don’t want to try to sit with anyone. Most of the time I eat alone anyway, except now and then I sit with William. He’s a nice kid who doesn’t seem to have friends either. William has learning disabilities.
    Eating by myself isn’t that terrible, mainly because I love the food my mother packs for me. Today my lunch box is stuffed with all my favorites — fruit salad, cookies, and sandwiches my mother makes herself.
    Back in class, Mrs. Erlanger is slowly reciting a poem for us and wants us to print it out as she speaks, but I’m having trouble. The pencil is clumsy in my hand, and I need my words to be
exactly
on the blue line, not even a little above or below. I also need my letters to be
perfectly
formed, and since I can never get it right the first time, I have to erase and start over. I’m doing that so much today that I’ve made holes in my papers. I hate the sloppy holes so much.
    Soon I’m so far behind that out of frustration I break my pencil in two and stop working. I’ve been breaking pencils in two all the time lately, at home and in school, even when I’m not using them to write. I don’t know why. I just do it.
    To try and relax, I begin to drum my fingers on my desk. I drum out a series of beats over and over, so after a while it attracts attention.
    Mrs. Erlanger looks up and sees that it’s me, then gives me a little smile and goes back to her