ADHD

I went back to see that psychiatrist one more time as somebody had made an appointment—wasn’t me! I was still hype, still restless and still couldn't keep still. I was already agitated—knowing where this appointment was going to go before it even started. I explained to her what I’ve been going through and that I was no longer on the Hydromorphone or the Clonazepam. She turned to me and said, “That’s withdrawal.” Yeah—I’ve been made aware, thanks!

I did want to see her because she’s a “psychiatrist” and I was still on the ADHD kick—I wanted that diagnosis! I’ve had ADHD since I was a little girl. I could never sit still. I was constantly getting in trouble with my teachers, being told I had ants in my pants—getting a side slap here and there, being told to stop fidgeting.

Growing up, I couldn’t even read a fucking book! The words on the page weren’t staying still—they were moving in front and behind. After I read one part, the words would be there again. I was reading the same sentence over and over, the words weren’t going in. When I had to do a book report, I would just skim the book, struggle to read the back, and fucking make it up as I went along. And somehow, that got me by in school and through the majority of my life.

Until about maybe 10-11 years ago, I came across Adderall. At the time, it was offered to me basically to lose weight. It started out that way—but then it was leveling me out! I was slowing down. I was paying attention to the details, I could fucking read! The ADHD symptoms in me weren’t so prominent, so I kept on with the Adderall. One cap in the morning (as directed when prescribed) whenever I could get my hands on it.

I told my family doctor I was taking this drug—because it is a stimulant and because of my congenital heart condition. I’m not a fucking idiot—I knew there were risks. I wanted her to know that I was taking this drug, that I now knew for fucking certain I had ADHD and my use of it to be overseen by a doctor. I also wanted it to be available to me! Prescribed!

That wasn’t fucking happening!

I was fucking taking it anyway, regardless—heart condition or not! It’s called QUALITY OF FUCKING LIFE!!!! If my lifespan was going to be shortened by medicating myself for a disorder I knew I fucking had, so that I could read, comprehend literature, and be normal—that’s the chance I was willing to fucking take! And that choice should’ve been mine to make!

The doctors were not going to prescribe me Adderall or Vyvanse or anything else along those lines because I needed to be fucking diagnosed with ADHD! A fucking disorder I’ve had my entire life—and I tell ya—for the life of me, I could not get that diagnosis! Still to this fucking day! And believe me when I say I fucking tried, man—I fucking tried!

So whenever the Adderall ran out or I couldn’t get it anymore, I went onto something else. That first something else was Vyvanse. When the Vyvanse ran out, someone had suggested I try Concerta—it did nothing for me. Then someone else I know suggested Ritalin. Bingo!

It wasn’t about weight-loss anymore. Sure, I won’t lie that was a perk, that also happens to be one of the side effects of the drug, but the bigger picture here now was the ADHD. I started taking only half a tab once in the morning, which I found out was a small-ass dose and that small ass-dose had me normal. I wasn’t agitated or uptight or anxious like Adderall or Vyvanse’s side effects gave me. The Ritalin was doing all the things the Adderall was doing for me, minus the sketch. It was fucking perfect for me.

For a year and a half, I was self-medicating with Ritalin and stabilizing myself. 5-7 years prior with the Addy’s and the Vyvanse off and on and at 52 years of age, I was finally normal! I know doctors don’t appreciate any of this but nonetheless—they weren’t helping me and least I was fucking honest!

I had to wait until my late 40’s to get on the track to figure this ADHD shit out, and thanks to the people that I know—I finally got to be normal! No thanks to the health system whatsoever! I was on a waitlist for more than a year and after my heart surgery—CAMH, where I was waitlisted, was no longer diagnosing ADHD like—what in the actual the fuck?!

I was finally able to function normally without being a hyper spaz and all over the place all the time. Interrupting conversations mid-sentence, including my own, and most importantly, I could read without fucking difficulty. I’ve always loved words; they just didn’t always love me back, but now I could read and read I did! I got on to Stieg Larsson and couldn’t stop—I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and the other two that followed that—I read all 3 of them consecutively with in a couple of weeks!

I finally got to feel what it was like to get lost in a book—a simple pleasure I’d been missing out on forever.

The Ritalin supply eventually ran dry. I was determined! Just like everything else in my life—it would seem that I have developed a knack for going around the resistance and getting what the fuck I wanted and what I needed, regardless of the barriers that were constantly put in front of me. That’s how I lived my entire life… determined!

In 2022, I went to Mexico. I walked back over the border with 120 tabs of Ritalin in my crossbody bag. I only needed half tab a day. I was set for the longest time. And walking past the border—yup! They pulled me over ‘cause I look like the type of chick—the type that would take a chance, I guess, because this was not my first interaction with Border Patrol! I was not new to this scenario.

The medication I had was Ritalin, and I also had Clonazepam. Both a controlled substance. I only grabbed the Clonazepam for a once-in-a-while off thing for the anxiety that I picked up during the pandemic and I only had 30 tabs. I only needed half and not often. I wasn’t getting them to get high—I wanted them for those bad, panic attack moments in life, that actually fucking happen annnnd the doctor wasn’t giving me any of those either. So I figured while I was grabbing the Ritalin—I might as well grab a pack of those too since they were so cheap and right there available to me in Mexico.

Sure enough—I got pulled over! Border Patrol pulled out the two pill bottles that were still in their boxes, the labels were all in Spanish. He looked at them—looked at me and he said, “What’s this for?” I said, “Oh, it’s for my knee,” and I grabbed my knee. Then he asked me what the other one was for and I said “Oh, that’s for my stomach.” I crunched up my face and started rubbing my belly. I guess I was convincing enough—he put them back in my purse and waved me on through. I got my Ritalin for the next however long and I was a happy girl! Happy that I could be fucking normal for the next however long—how fucked up is that?!

Back to the psychiatrist’s appointment. I’m sitting in her office and I’m focused on the ADHD business because after all my efforts over the years to get this disorder diagnosed, I am finally sitting across from a real live psychiatrist who is capable of helping me, diagnosing me with AD fucking HD and prescribing me Ritalin. This is 5-6 months post-surgery. I haven't had Ritalin since the end of 2022 - January 2023. This issue was not leaving my head! It was a constant struggle for me trying to get that diagnosis, a struggle that lasted years! The fact that I wasn’t able to sit still, that I was constantly on the move post-surgery—the way that I was and even while I was messed-up and in that state, subconsciously I fucking knew that my ADHD was playing a huge role in all of it—my actions and my behavior.

After the pandemic, when I finally saw my cardiologist again, the dude who downplayed the whole situation from the jump! I openly told him that I was taking Ritalin and, yeah, at that time, I wanted his approval (not thinking there was any reason for concern with my heart because he never made it sound like I should be concerned.) Well—the time eventually came where I wanted everything from the doctors!!! Every single fucking note, everything that had transpired since I walked into that hospital right up until I was discharged.

I saw his note from the appointment I had with him that was sent to my family doctor and to my new cardiologist! He repeatedly wrote over and over again how the only thing I seemed to be concerned about is taking RITALIN!!! Well, I was for fuck’s sake! His note in a roundabout way made me sound like a fucking junky!! He led me to believe that shit with my heart was still the same! That there was no change—because if there was a change, why the fuck wouldn’t he have told me instead of just saying to me—”Welllll—I’m referring you to a cardiologist at TGH as she has more experience with your condition than I do.” Yeah, ok cool! What about the Ritalin, is it ok for me to take it? He basically said no— but not to me! He passed it off to my family doctor and my family doctor was not prescribing me Ritalin without an ADHD diagnosis…and that’s how it goes! I don’t blame my family doctor—my family doctor is a Godsend! I can’t imagine going through all the shit I’ve been through the past year without her! Her efforts to get me that diagnosis did not go unnoticed. She was with me on that—she tried, I tried! I straight up fell victim to the fucking system.

That fucking psychiatrist was useless—she wasn’t even listening to me. She actually stared at her screen during that entire appointment while I told her about my symptoms and my situation with ADHD. She didn’t even bat an eye! Let alone consider diagnosing me with ADHD or discussing anything else beyond the PTSD and GAD- General Anxiety Disorder that I was previously diagnosed with. She did not even—not one fucking time ask me about what could’ve been the reasoning behind the PTSD. She didn’t give two fucks! Instead she ended up giving me Gabapentin, a neuro drug that helps with anxiety. Oh it actually does help—but so may have getting to the fucking root of it all! I was fucking bare, raw—wide open, DESPERATE! It was fucking prime time—the perfect opportunity and time for her—someone—anyone to fucking help me and I got her!! That’s the whole purpose of seeing a “psychiatrist”—isn’t it? To get help? And nobody—I mean nobody could’ve been more ready or needy at that time then I was to fucking receive it!

I walked away from that appointment wanting to never—ever see her fucking face again! The two interactions that I had with her—which at that time, to me—felt like my last chance to ever get help, just made everything worse! I left her office feeling completely empty and broken. I went into that appointment hyper-focused on getting rid of the chaotic mental state I was in as I was sure my ADHD was contributing to it—I was trying to get to normal again. I was trying to level off. I got nowhere.

At some point—I let that go. I had to.