I have a doctor’s appointment today in which, for the first time in my life, I am going to have a conversation with an MD about treating my attention deficit disorder. I have severe ADHD. What? Why did I wait until I was 46, you ask? I knew that was coming and I am prepared to answer it with this pretty pie chart I made using PowerPoint. I’ll retrieve it from my back pocket, rub out the creases on the exam table, present it to my doc, and as Reese Witherspoon’s character, Elle Woods, in Legally Blonde, said about her pink, scented resume: “I think it gives it a little something extra, don’t you think?”
MY LIFE WITH ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER
When she asks how I know I have ADHD I can say, “Look in my chart at all the appointments for which I was a no-show. That was me spacing it, not blowing it off. There’s a big difference. I never blow anything off.” It would please me greatly if she could tell her receptionist that phrases such as “should be able to” and “try not to blow off the next one” are unacceptable, along with other politically incorrect words like gay and retard. They show a complete lack of understanding. I tried to explain that to the receptionist when she used those phrases but I just sounded like I was going to blow a gasket.
Receptionist: “You shouldn’t have a problem being able to remember an appointment you made the same day.”
Me: “A neurotypical person wouldn’t have a problem remembering that. Someone with ADHD can remember at 2:00 p.m. that they have an appointment for 3:00 p.m., but at 2:45 when they should be backing out of their driveway it has completely slipped their mind.
Receptionist: (total silence)
Me: Are you still there? I need to hear your voice again. I’ve already forgotten to whom I was speaking. What were we talking about again?
I want to say that last part but I don’t. There’s always the tendency to want to strike out at neurotypical people when they get frustrated with ADHD-types. But it just makes people with attention deficit look mentally ill. And we’re not. We’re just not wired correctly and our brains work when they feel like it. Sometimes we have a chip on our shoulder about it, the way neurotypicals have a chip on their shoulder with their shoulds and consequences. If shoulds and consequences worked to correct ADHD I’d be running ad agencies in three different time zones.
When the doctor asks, “Why have you not had it diagnosed and treated until now?” I’ll tap my finger on the pie chart. I was going to make a little video of me spacing out or crying in the corner after another missed appointment but I like the pretty colors in this chart better.
Besides, when I went to look for the video camera and the tripod, there was a piece missing so I couldn’t mount the camera. I looked in the junk drawer to see if the piece was in there and found the tiny screwdriver set I’ve been looking for to tighten the hinge on my glasses. Except the screwdriver I needed wasn’t in there. It was probably in my husband’s workshop. So I ran downstairs to take care of it right away before I forgot and remembered the laundry needed to go into the dryer before it got smelly a second time, but first I had to empty the dryer, and while I was running upstairs to get an empty laundry basket, the phone rang and it was my kid calling me for a ride home. He’d been waiting for a half hour beyond our normal pick-up time.
Ok that last part is not true. I have never forgotten to pick up a child. When I was a new mom, though, I used to have panic attacks in the parking lot of Target. I’d remember to put the bags in the trunk and close it before pulling away, but panic that I’d forgotten the baby on the roof. I’d get in the car, put the key in the ignition and without having even rolled out of my parking spot I’d slam on the break and yell “Oh, my God! The baby!” I’d turn around and he’d be cooing in his seat, where I had no memory of placing him.
So many times when I was single, I’d rest my coffee mug on the roof of my car while I got everything else settled. I’d buckle my seatbelt, adjust the mirror, make sure no one was coming before pulling out. I’d start down the road and hear the sound of my mug rolling off the roof and hitting the road. “Oh, right! Shoot!” Eventually you run out of mugs and you can put that nightmare behind you.
But when it’s a baby, that’s nothing to mess with. The sleep-deprived mind plays tricks on new mothers. It remembers how carefree you were before kids so it flashes extreme and frightening images at you to ensure the baby’s safety. You start your car and hear the sound of a mug rolling off the roof accompanied by an image of your helpless baby in his car seat, bouncing on the asphalt, not knowing why you’re driving away but hoping you’ll come back when it gets hungry. Only to turn around and find the child playing with the mobile dangling from a plastic clip over his car seat that is securely fastened and facing the right direction.
I couldn’t rely on muscle memory to get me through a routine as a new mom. It took some time and I had to talk myself through it, step by step, until it became automatic. I knew I’d hit success when I’d apply the baby’s diaper the same way every time. I’d buckle the child in his seat — right arm, left arm, center buckle — the same way every time. I could trust my muscles. I couldn’t trust my mind.
That’s the thing about the ADHD brain. Every appointment is new. Every errand and to-do list is new. It’s not in muscle memory like a routine you do every day, like changing a diaper or buckling a car seat or making a cup of coffee or brushing your teeth. Appointments are only once in a while, leaving ADHD-ers plenty of room for error. Appointments require anticipation and planning, which is in a different part of the brain than “automatic pilot”. The latter is reliable. The former is not.
One time when James was just a couple months old I had to go to Target to get more diapers and he was particularly fussy on the way home. In a sing-songy voice, I said, “It’s okay, honeeeeey. We’re almost hoooome.”
But the fussing continued. I tried to remember what gassy food I might have eaten before the last time he breastfed but couldn’t think of anything. Meanwhile the fussiness turned up a notch.
“We’re almost home, honeyyyyy. It’s okaaaay. Mommy’s heeere.”
I turned around to comfort him when I came to a red light and his car seat had flipped forward. He was dangling face down with his car seat wedged between my seat and the back bench.
“Oh, my God!” I remembered to buckle him into his car seat but I forgot to buckle his car seat to the bench.
That only happened once, so I’m not going to tell the doctor about that. Every new mom has done that, right? But I will tell her I am at that age where I’m not sure where the ADHD stops and the dementia begins. Give me something for either one or both. I need another color on my pie chart where it says “Happily Medicated Ages 46 and up”.
Subscribe to the
RSS feed or 
Email Updates.Help us promote this article by bookmarking it to your favorite social network via an icon below:
