March 15, 2013
It’s been a year and then some, and I’m still adrift with untethered ADD. Unmoored in marriage (recently divorced), and nearly in lodging, thanks to my hobbled career and zero savings. The lack of marriage led to a lack of health insurance, and I’m looking for affordable generic ADD drugs, and sliding scale therapists and psychiatrists.
I’m a 53 year-old boat, without a sail or motor, drifting, springing leaks.
February 24, 2012
It doesn’t seem to be doing much. It MIGHT be lending me a small amount of calm in the morning, if something goes wrong. But there’s nothing electrifying, or stupefying about it. It works about as well as Concerta did.
February 17, 2012
Or is it 7?
It might actually be less, if I factor in the symptoms of inadvertent Cymbalta withdrawal for the last few days — a fall into the hellish chasm of anger and personality change that results when I run out of the pills before the next shipment arrives. The alteration is Hyde-like, if Mr.Hyde were equally prone to weeping.
I’m feeling more like Jekyll today, my inner-beast sedated with Cymbalta, and a Vyvance chaser.
(though that’s not precisely true — I don’t have an inner-beast, independent of Cymbalta. A more accurate title would be Dr. Cymbaltataker and Mr. Cymbaltaless. Mr. Hyde appeared because of a drug. My evil twin appears without it.)
February 14, 2012
It’s not an ADD cartoon. But it addresses misplaced love.
February 14, 2012
Today I had a computer snafu, and I didn’t yell, grumble, or whine. I considered the problem, worked to solve it, and didn’t feel a thing.
When my ADD is fully weaponized, I’m like a land mine. The slightest pressure sets me off.
When I’m topped off with Ritalin — and now, it appears, Vyvance — I’m able to endure setbacks and misfires with a dreamy calm.
Of course, this is only Day 4, and it’s possible I’ll toss my computer out the window tomorrow.
February 12, 2012
Nothing yet. I think. Tomorrow will be a better test when I work my way through Monday’s list.
February 10, 2012
I came across this phrase while reading a post about zinc as a life-saving cure for childhood pneumonia*:
double-blind, randomized, placebo-controlled trial.
As I read it, I heard a cadence:
I don’t know what to call this style of poem. It might not be a poem at all. The reader needs to fudge the rhythm to make it work. Controlled barely fits between its bookends. (Would Placebo-‘trolled work?) But I like the sound of double-blind as it hands off to randomized.
I especially like the sound of the poem in the final line — a recognition that the experience of one should never be taken for the experience of many. Science is a challenge to anecdote. It recognizes that your cure might be my disappointment.
Today I started Vyvance. I’m not part of a double-blind study (though I can’t rule out that I’m part of a triple-blind study, completely in the dark), and I’m pretty sure I didn’t pay $50 for a placebo (though it’s not impossible.)
Either way, it will work or it won’t, and I’ll offer my anecdotal evidence once I have it.
*keeping in mind that it’s been at least five minutes since I read that post and I honestly can’t remember if pneumonia was the illness. But it was definitely about zinc, and sick kids, and a solicitous arrangement.