And of course with HD there is the hereditary factor.
My friend nursed him, mourned him, coped amazingly well. Yet even now, having been through that, having known each other all our adult lives and shared the same ghastly coincidence of being affected by something so horrible but so uncommon, she is very reluctant to talk about it with me.
It's all very well for me, you might say: I know I'm in the clear and don't have to tiptoe around the subject, always waiting for the axe to fall but shoving those thoughts to the back of my mind, not talking about it in case it tempts fate.
Do we really want to continue the generations of silence, stigma and shame for our loved ones?
I think the only way to banish that genie is to show it some daylight.