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“You’re Making Up Symptoms,” They Laughed—Until the Specialist’s Report Came Back.

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cuff squeezed my arm. An IV was taped to my hand.

Dr. Stevens stood at my bedside holding a tablet, her face serious in the way doctors get when they’re done being polite. My family was clustered in the corner—my mother’s mouth set in a tight line, my father’s closed-off stare, Thomas leaning against the wall like this was an inconvenience to his schedule.continue reading …

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