Despite the new intensive steroid treatment, my condition did not seem to improve right away. In fact, it worsened; the abnormal nightly movements and undefined panic attacks increased. My father wrote about my continued difficulties in the logbook that he and my mom shared:“She had a strange smirking expression on her face. She tensed up,” he wrote. “Arms stretched out straight, grimace, tenseness, shakes.” “Nijaz?” she calls.* * * “I promise you it’s not a big deal. It happens. They shouldn’t yell. It was a mistake.” She couldn’t tell what was real and what had been engineered by my tortured mind. Allen agreed that it was likely the latter; either way, they never heard anything more about the incident..  .  .