The doctor who applied a stethoscope to my heart was not satisfied. I was told to get my papers with the clerk in the outer hall. I was medically rejected.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I wasn't sued out of medicine, I wasn't arbitrated out of the profession.
By 17, I was submitting to publications and collecting my first rejection slips.
I was diagnosed with Graves' disease, an illness of the thyroid gland. Instead of surgery, I was given radiation treatment.
I took all of my rejection letters - there must have been thousands of them in a huge box - and I went out on the curb and burned them all, crying.
The doctor told Phil, my then husband, that my condition was really bad news. They had found an artery tearing and said I could die. They said they could try to patch it up but it could go horribly wrong. It all turned out okay in the end but it was touch and go.
Often doctors didn't even tell you what was wrong with you. They just treated you, and sent you home.
I was well aware of the fact that once you appeared in Doctor Who as something else, you were ruled out for the part of the Doctor: that was a kind of well known thing in the business.
It's not the heart that compels conclusions in cases, it's the law.
You don't lie to your own doctor. You don't lie to your own attorney, and you don't lie to your employees.
The only thing left that shows I was a heart patient is I have a scar down the middle of my chest where they went in three times to do open heart surgery. I have a brand new heart inside, and all the mechanical and electronic gear and so forth is all gone.