Monday, June 24, 2013

Adderall

Finding time to write is hard. Many times a day when thoughts flit through my head, I say to myself- "I need to write that down". Then a squirrel darts by and I immediately forgot what profound thought I had seconds ago. I used to be hyper focused; sort of the anti ADD. Now, approaching 40- I've developed adult ADD. Otherwise known as old. married with crazy job and 3 crazy kids.
I went to a psychiatrist at the beginning of the year to see if I can get some meds for this condition I've developed. Surprisingly, getting my hands on some stimulants was WAY easy. This psychiatric practice was fascinating. I walked in and immediately saw this broken young man chain smoking out on the catwalk, muttering to himself, shaking his head back and forth. Clearly needing a xanax or a dart gun or something. I was so transfixed on watching him that I didn't hear them call  my name the first time. Also, they called me back less than 3 minutes after I signed in which I think was due largely to the fact that I presented an insurance card. The other folks sitting in that waiting room waited much longer than me. And I assure you, they needed to be seen quickly.
I was ushered to a room by a 14 year old psychiatry resident. Short white count and acne look great together. This sweet boy proceeded to ask me the battery of questions straight from his laptop.
"Are you fatigued?" Yes
"Do you get distracted easily?" Yes
"Are you irritable often" HELL yes
"Do you have feelings of despair" Excluding right now, no.
"Do you ever want to harm yourself or others" No to myself, yes to others- especially the people that irritate me.

I explained that I think I developed ADD in my late 30's and since I have a job where I kind of need to be on my A game most of the time, can I please have adderall, thank you very much. He smiled nervously and completed his questionnaire and went off to get Dr. P.
That's when things got interesting.
Dr P. walks in and all I can notice is her bizarre fashion sense. Nude knee-highs (also referred to as passion killers by my dear friend Sandy), mismatched skirt and top (like completely different patterns) and a big gold necklace that read: "God Loves You". In gold. Worn around her neck.
My mother always says that if someone dresses seasonally inappropriate, they're probably mentally ill. So if a woman wears a sweater in July or a tank top in December- beware. Well, Dr P was seasonally appropriate but the necklace and the mismatched outfit bought her the same diagnosis.
She asked me 2 more questions- "Do you get enough sleep?". After I stopped laughing, I said no.
"Do you eat a healthy diet?" She was killing me. Again, no.
Then she gave me a prescription for aderall and told me I should get more sleep and eat more balanced meals. Success.
I tried the aderall for a month and it may have marginally improved my attention span. It definitely gave me dry mouth, halitosis, mild palpitations and decreased appetite. My prescription ran out and I never refilled it. I learned that I don't have ADD but I have 38 year old Working Mother Disorder. There's no pill for that. But there is alcohol.
So to all of you who may live with a person with WMD- here's some good advice:

1. Don't tell them they need to get more rest, that they're working too hard. No shit. They're working this hard for a reason. It's usually attached to a dollar sign.
2. Don't tell them they should make time for exercise. No shit. They probably know that exercise is important already. If you watch their kids 3 evenings a week at a certain time, maybe they can get out and go for a run. If you don't- shut the frick up.
3. Don't tell them that time flies and their kids are gonna grow up before they know it so they should enjoy these amazing years now. They know their kids are going to grow up and move out and call once a week and ask for cash. They know they will look back at pictures and wont be able to remember when they were so tiny. But you know what? That's gonna happen whether or not they stay home and spend a ton of time with the kiddos or have to work long hours out of the home. Saying stupid shit like that just makes the mother with WMD feel like crap. So don't say it.
4. Tell your loved one with WMD that she is doing a good job and that her kids and husband seem like they are emotionally healthy. You may make her cry. But it'll be worth it.