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Hi. I'm Jack. I'm 15, I'm a sophomore, I catch for the JV baseball team, and I have Tourette syndrome. No, I don't swear. Most people with Tourette's don't. I'll get to that. Since I was nine I have explained TS to about a thousand people. Teachers. Substitute teachers. Bus drivers. Umpires. Two different youth pastors. My little cousins every Thanksgiving. A lady at the mall who asked my mom if I was "on something." The guy behind us at the movies. So I decided to do it one time, properly, all the way through, and then I can just give people the address. If somebody sent you here, hi. This is the whole speech. You can read it in about ten minutes, which is faster than me explaining it at a bus stop. The Rules · How I Found Out · Box Score · Behind the Plate · School · Please Don't · Jim Eisenreich · The Letter |
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I started blinking when I was seven. Hard blinks, like squeezing my eyes shut. My mom took me to the eye doctor, who said my eyes were perfect. Then I started sniffing, so I went to an allergy doctor, who did the thing where they scratch your back with twenty little needles, and I wasn't allergic to anything. Then the throat-clearing started. Ahem. Ahem. Ahem. All day. My second grade teacher thought I was doing it on purpose. She'd stop the whole class and wait. She moved my desk next to hers. Once she made me sit in the hall until I "could be quiet," which I couldn't, so I sat in the hall for most of an afternoon clearing my throat at the fire extinguisher. My third grade teacher was nicer but she kept sending notes home saying I was "seeking attention." Believe me, I was not seeking that kind. When I was nine our family doctor finally said the word Tourette's and sent us to a pediatric neurologist at the children's hospital. He watched me for about twenty minutes, asked my mom a hundred questions, asked ME a hundred questions (nobody had ever asked me what it felt like before), and said, "This is Tourette syndrome." That was it. No big test. There isn't a blood test or an X-ray for TS. It's diagnosed by what the doctor sees and what you tell him. My mom cried in the car on the way home. I thought it was because it was bad news. She told me later it was because it had a name, and it wasn't my fault, and it wasn't hers, and somebody finally believed us. I didn't cry. I asked if we could get a Blizzard. We got a Blizzard. |
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Here's the weirdest thing about my TS, and the best. When I'm in my crouch with the gear on and a pitch coming, my tics almost totally go away. Not just held in. Gone. My neurologist says a lot of people with Tourette's find that when they're really focused on something physical, like sports or playing an instrument, the tics back off. For me it's catching. Seven innings of looking at a pitcher and nothing in my brain but the count and where the runner is. It's the quietest my body ever is. Then the inning ends, I take off the mask in the dugout, and they all come running back in like they missed me. Catching is also why the Head Shake is a problem. In case you don't know baseball: the catcher puts down signs with his fingers to call the pitch, and if the pitcher doesn't want that pitch he shakes his head no. Last year a kid named Travis was pitching and I tic'd my head right while he was looking in, and he thought I was shaking HIM off, which isn't even how it works. He stood there totally confused. I stood there. The umpire took his mask off. Finally I called time and jogged out and explained, and Travis laughed so hard he had to walk around the mound. Now we have a deal: he's the only one allowed to shake his head, and if I tic, he just waits for me to put down the sign again. Travis is my pitcher this fall too. Best battery on the JV, and the only one with a written agreement. Coach Perri has known since tryouts. My mom and I told him the first day. He said, "Can you block a ball in the dirt?" I said yes. He said, "Then I don't care if you blink." That's the whole conversation, and he's been great ever since. The only thing he did was tell the umpires at our home games before the first one, so nobody thinks I'm showing them up. |
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WHAT HELPS AT SCHOOL I have a 504 plan. If you've never heard of one: Section 504 is part of a federal law from 1973 (the Rehabilitation Act) that says schools can't shut out kids with disabilities. A 504 plan is a written list, agreed on by you, your parents and the school, of what the school will do so your disability doesn't get in the way of learning. You don't have to be in special ed to have one. I'm in honors English. My mom set it up when I started middle school, and we go over it every fall. Here's what's in mine, in case it gives you ideas:
If your school doesn't know what a 504 plan is (mine didn't, at first), ask the principal or the school counselor for a meeting and bring a letter from your doctor. The Tourette Syndrome Association, which is the big national group, has stuff written just for teachers, and has chapters in a lot of states. Our chapter sent a speaker to my middle school once. It was kind of embarrassing and kind of the best day ever. |
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Tell me to stop. See Rule 1.05. If I could, I would have, around 1991. Do an impression. It wasn't funny in sixth grade either. Ask "are you okay?" every single time. I'm okay. Ask once. Then you know. Talk to my mom about me while I'm standing right there. I'm the one with the brain. Ask me. Say "but you don't look like you have Tourette's." What does that look like? This is what it looks like. Feel like you can never laugh. When it's funny, it's funny. The Travis thing was funny. Laughing WITH me is fine. You can usually tell the difference. So can I. What's nice: just keep talking when I tic. Seriously. That's the whole thing. Keep talking like nothing happened, because nothing did. |
When I got diagnosed, my mom went to the library and came home with a newspaper article about a major league baseball player who has Tourette syndrome. I was nine and I played Little League and I read that article until it fell apart. I still have the pieces in a Ziploc bag. Jim Eisenreich was an outfielder. He came up with the Minnesota Twins in 1982, and his tics were so bad, and people understood TS so little back then, that he had to leave baseball for a few years. He got treatment, and he came back and played for the Kansas City Royals starting in 1987. Then the Phillies, and he played in the 1993 World Series with them. Then the Florida Marlins, and he won the 1997 World Series. His last season was 1998, with the Dodgers. Think about that. A guy who had to quit because of tics came back and played in two World Series and won a ring. With TS. In front of fifty thousand people and TV cameras. Every time somebody stares at me at the mall I think about him standing in right field in October with the whole country watching, and I figure I can handle the lady at the mall. He's been open about having Tourette's and he's done a lot for kids who have it. He's not a catcher, which is his only flaw. |
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LINKS & HELP The Tourette Syndrome Association. The national group, based in New York, with chapters all over. They have information for families, teachers and doctors, and they can help you find a doctor who knows about TS. If you think your kid might have it, start with your own doctor and ask about a neurologist. Say It Anyway · Matt's page about stuttering, by a guy who does. Stuttering is a totally different thing from TS, but I read his whole page twice. The part about ordering the number three at every drive-thru because it was the word that would come out made me laugh out loud, because I know exactly that feeling of planning your whole life around one stupid thing your body does. |
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THE LETTER
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