Friday, August 31, 2012

Attention Deficit (1) followed by Promises

With so many children being treated for attention deficit these days and the numbers continuing the grow, some people think it's an illness concocted by psychiatrists and drug companies to grow revenues.

About this, I have to disagree strongly. Granted, it may be over-diagnosed. So much psychiatry needs to be supported more in neurology the way theoretical physics grounds cosmology. We haven't reached that point yet. Psychiatry is behind other medicine in development.

Two psychiatrists have now diagnosed me with Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. In neither case did I seek or suggest that diagnosis. The only thing I know is, I'm on a higher dose of the medication than ever. A much higher dose than the previous psychiatrist put me on (and subsequently, taken off when I lost my medical coverage and had to switch psychiatrist). I have to watch my blood pressure now, though Strattera is not in the same class as Ritalin, which is amphetamine.

The difference, though is so profound that I'm willing to take a larger risk of a heart attack. I hope readers noticed I've been keeping this blog daily now. That's only one thing that's changed. (Continue)





For those who think it's not real, I'll tell you the differences in my abilities and behavior I've noticed:

The first encouraging thing that happened was, five minutes came off my average Sudoku time, and it's been getting faster, after being stagnate for more than a year. I've gone from 19:50 per medium difficulty puzzle to 13:23.

I can set a schedule in the day and expect that I'll stick to it, and not get stuck on one task or have my mind wander off between tasks.

Most important: I can write for hours at a time without my mind wandering off. I can watch video and movies and hear the dialog. I didn't watch much movies and TV due largely to that problem.

That's one lesser known aspect of Attention Deficit. Many times, you can't hear people. Oh, you might have perfect hearing, but if there is any distraction at all, including the tone of the person's voice, your brain just doesn't process language. So, you become almost a foreigner in your own country. When you're a child, this will effect your language development, and it did effect mine.

I can read faster and much more.  I can enjoy music more because I can hear the lyrics.

Socially, I don't interrupt people so much, though I still do fear that I'll forget what I'm going to say before they're finished talking. That's getting better. 

Then, there's the effect all this has on your confidence, stress level and mood.

So, this is a real disorder. It shows immediately. On thing people will notice right away about me: my legs move constantly.

It used to be called hyperactivity, but that's one aspect of it, in fact, that was the symptom I learned to control the best when I grew up. As a child, though, I remember my Mom talking on the phone, as she always did as though I couldn't hear her (and usually she was right). She wondered if I was "Hyperactive," but she thought hyperactivity was just a "stage" and she distrusted the drugs they gave hyperactive children.

This is one point of several where my parents demonstrated the worst medical knowledge and judgment in the world. When I was seven, I once watched horror as my father turned athletes' foot into a life-threatening condition. Mom's judgment about my hyperactivity and the need for treatment was that bad.

Promises

I'm working on a longer blog entry about my background and family which will put this in perspective. Unfortunately, it's been dragging on and I don't know when it will be finished. The posts I've been putting up day-to-day aren't carefully written. They're first drafts. I will always work on one in-depth, well researched post while I continue to do daily reports.

I'm also going to upgrade this blog. First, with a name change, that I'll think about this time. Then with the format. Generally I like how the white text on black looks, and those are generally the blogs that look coolest. Unfortunately, they're not readable. A great format does nothing if people can't understand you.

Life

BTW, I do have the perfect writer's apartment. It's quiet, secluded, away from the street. It provides a balance of privacy and scenery. Here's a shot out the "front" window. Oh, in the foreground, she likes the privacy and scenery, too. Can't get enough of it . 


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