To make a difference, I wanted to become the doctor I never had

Knowing what growing up with Tourette Syndrome was like and remembering the difficulties I had with understanding the problems I experienced as a child and what caused them, lead me to finding ways in which I could help children with TS and other 'special' needs caused by neuro-developmental disorders. There was almost no useful advice or support available and I don't believe things have moved on much now that I am an adult.

I wanted to find a way in which I could make a difference and be able to improve awareness, influence professional attitudes, improve diagnosis and subsequent provision and treatment. I determined that the best way to do this was to become a doctor myself and specialise in developmental paediatrics or neurology. I could not only become directly involved in the diagnosis and treatment of TS but also become involved in clinical research. Having TS myself would, I hoped, give me a unique insight and would also ensure I had some idea of the issues that children with TS and their parents face. I hoped my own 'disability' would allow me to better connect with and relate to others who are similarly affected. I wanted to become the doctor I never had.

After gaining my first degree in biological sciences, I taught for several years in a 'special school' as a teaching assistant but eventually found this frustrating as although I was helping with educational aspects I became very aware of the profound lack of understanding about Tourette Syndrome, autism and other disorders, among both health and educational professionals. The misconceptions of the medical profession and very poor advice given to parents and their children was something I found truly astounding and worrying.

I was also aware that I had little opportunity to progress and qualify as a teacher. I had applied for post-grad teacher training during my time as a special-needs teaching assistant but, as I expected, I was not even given an interview. 

I did eventually get a place at medical school but encountered much unexpected discrimination, most of which took place at the very end of four years of extremely hard work which included facing the challenges that studying medicine with a disorder like TS presented. The manner in which I was treated by staff of the medical school came as a big shock and I was ill-equipped to deal with it. I was subjected to what seemed like a concerted effort by my medical school to deter me from completing my training by using every means possible to question my abilities, undermine my self-belief and to even suggest I would pose a risk to my patients should I practice. Instead of supporting me as I had imagined they would, my university made my life impossible. I made the painful decision not to return to complete my degree.

My experiences with medical training and the prejudice I encountered, is a complex story that I hope to tell fully one day and it will help explain how, despite all signs being to the contrary throughout my training, I had to ultimately resign myself to hanging up my stethoscope for the last time and abandon a large collection of costly medical textbooks over which I had pored for unimaginable hours along with the hopes that had driven me forward. I also have a large debt and student loan to repay. 

I at least have the satisfaction that I was able complete all my clinical training rotations successfully and received good commendations, assessments and much encouragement from the consultants under whom I trained in several hospitals. I had put in long hours on the wards, in theatre and clinics. I found clinical practice immensely rewarding and found I was actually good at it. I found patients related to me very well despite my obvious 'differences'. I knew I had to work a lot harder and spend much more time than most students to get through all the reading and written assessments. The time limitation on written exams and having to take them in a crowded examination hall was an enormous challenge. In one major examination I was told to keep quiet at the beginning of a 3 hour written paper in a large hall with several hundred other candidates. A member of staff, a qualified doctor who was well-aware of my TS, even 'shooshed' me because I was making too much noise! I spent most of that particular exam in a state of much higher stress than usual and in concentrating on hiding/suppressing my tics, hoping not to disturb other students. As expected I did not have time to complete all the questions (I got almost 70% but they still failed me on that paper). 


Giving presentations was one of my biggest fear as I would have to become the focus of attention in a room full of smart and articulate people but I managed to overcome this and achieved a passable performance although the stress was often overwhelming. For a while I really thought I would achieve my goal and would be able to transcend the difficulties of my condition.


During my course I was subject to numerous highly discriminatory and unfounded comments by several members of staff of my university who tried to convince me that my disability would mean that I would not be able to carry out my clinical duties adequately despite having successfully passed all my training assessments of clinical competence. This I am certain was a consequence of a profound lack of understanding of what TS entails. They also ensured that I would not be permitted any accommodations or reasonable adjustments during my training and academic assessments. I was informed that the university did not have money or resources to help students with such disabilities. Instead I had various restrictions and additional requirements imposed on me that were not imposed on other students, including what were subsequently determined to be unneccessary successive compulsory medical assessments.

I often feel very disappointed and immeasurably sad that I was prevented from graduating alongside my other classmates with whom I had shared many years of training and share in the mutual sense of achievement. This is often the true reality of Tourette Syndrome. You know you can do something but always have to struggle with others not taking you seriously. Sometimes you just resign yourself to believing that however hard you try to prove yourself, it will never be enough. You get used to seeing your friends and classmates progressing through life and effortlessly overcoming obstacles that may stop you in your tracks. However despite this I still try to keep some belief in myself and never feel willing to give up. A problem with Tourette Syndrome, is that individuals are often painfully aware of how others see them but feel they can do little to change those perceptions. 

I had spent four years with my fellow medical students going from our first clinical experiences to greater challenges with excitement and hope for the future. We went through incredible experiences together and gradually developed confidence in ourselves and our clinical abilities and the potential value of our skills to others. I do however feel a great sense of satisfaction in that my clinical partner, throughout my years of hospital training, managed to graduate successfully despite having many setbacks and struggling on many occasions. In the end she finally made it and I'm sure she will be a competent and dedicated doctor.


I can't emphasise more strongly, the urgent need for better legal protection for students with disabilities and legislation that ensures they are supported appropriately and treated equally with other students.