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

held up a hand without looking at her. “I wasn’t asking for commentary. I was confirming a fact.”

I swallowed. “My mom.”

Dr. Harrison’s eyes sharpened, but he didn’t explode. He just made a note, and somehow that was worse—like her actions were being logged in a record that would outlive her excuses.

On day three, he came in holding a thick file. “The continue reading …