Judge, Jury and Sentencing.
As children raised by parents who were avid readers of Robert Burns, we were far more likely to have him quoted to us than anything from the bible. Some quotes stick more than others. Even my husband will quote Burns after a night out where he perhaps imbibed a little more than I thought was appropriate.
Look at you, he’ll say “nursing yer wrath tae keep it warm,” (Tam O’Shanter) as I gather my brow like gathering storm over our morning coffee. I prefer to take at least half a day before I’ll get over my sanctimonious murmurings.
Recently I was deep in conversation with a 35yr old man in England, where I stated that I thought kindness was what I valued most in a person. He thought for a moment then said
“I’d say self-awareness.”
Ooooooh. I could just hear ma mither.
“Oh wad some pow’r the giftie gie us, tae see oursels as ithers see us.” (Tae a Louse.”) She probably doled this one out while I was mid-tantrum and stamping my feet over something ridiculous.
I arrived in Glasgow for my assessment.
To quote from Tam O’Shanter again “the hour approaches, Tam maun ride. Nae man can tether time nor tide.”
I was just going to walk into the room, sit down and answer the questions she asked me.
I walked into the room and said “I’ve already had 500 conversations with you since I clicked the button to make this appointment. You should already know everything there is to know about me, so I have nothing more to say.”
And I continued in this vein for 1hr and 20mins before she held up her hand and suggested I take a break, go to the loo, and sit for 10 mins over a glass of water in the waiting room while she consulted her notes.
Prior to her halting me in my tracks, I sat on her sofa (where there was a box of hankies on the table between us) and don’t remember much of what I told her. I do know that at one point I threw my hands in the air and said with absolute conviction, “The problem is, I don’t present as someone with ADHD!!”
There was an ever so slight raise of her eyebrows as she leant forward a little and asked “What makes you say THAT????”
“I have had a happy and stable relationship with my husband for 35 years. I have 2 fantastic children and a lovely house. I can hold down a job for years and years without question - people don’t understand what the problem is.”
“The thing is,” I continued, “This hasn’t ruined my life. It’s just a shame.”
Again, a slight leaning in as she said quietly, with warmth and empathy, “It IS a shame.”
I reached for one of her hankies.
When I came back into the room, she said “I’ll bet that was the longest 10 minutes of your life.”
Really? I hadn’t realised she was crunching numbers. I’d thought she was possibly hanging out the window smoking a much-needed cigarette or lying on her sofa, a cold flannel on her brow, a dram in her hand.
“Not particularly,” I said. “But the last 6 weeks since making the appointment has.”
And she was going to give me the results of her assessment right here and now? I hadn’t seen that coming.
There are 15 points in 2 categories. To make a diagnosis of ADHD, she needs to have found evidence of at least 5 in both categories. I had 9 in each.
It was about a week later that she sent her full written assessment.
My first response to the document was that she now knew me better than my husband. My 2nd was to see myself as “ithers see me.” Ooft.
She did state that my’ insight into my symptoms and functional impairment was good’. (As a long term naval-gazer, this would be true enough.)
I demonstrated ‘high verbosity’. I had to google it – ‘using far more words than necessary to convey an idea which often obscures the core message rather than clarifying it.’
Oh my god, when I think of poor hitch-hikers who have scrambled out of my car on arrival at their destination, looking more exhausted than if they’d walked.
I remember a colleague at my workplace handing me someone’s farewell card to sign, saying “we’ve left plenty of space for you as you always write more than anyone else.”
She noted that ‘it was at times difficult to interrupt or redirect.’ (Poor, poor Spook.)
I was often ‘tangential’ and difficult to contain. Eek. I had to look that up as well. It’s going off at a tangent and not coming back to the point.
I ‘appeared to have difficulty filtering information.’ My memory flashed back to how I always practiced for the local Winter League mountain bike races years ago so that I knew how I would feel at each stage, know what was coming next, how to pace myself, and when it would end. At the start of the actual race, the organiser gathered us round and told us there was a section added on to the start. As he explained what that was, all I heard was white noise and had no idea what he was saying. Spook was watching me from the other side of the group and came over to me, laughing.
“Jeez, you look like you need a slap with a wet Kipper! Stop panicking – it’s just the ‘hole in the wall’ added in at the start.” What I NEEDED was his gentle hands on my shoulders, grounding me, and giving me that information. No wet kipper required!!
She’d asked me if I was impatient. “Hmmm, I suppose so. I have recently been telling my husband to get to the point because I can’t cope with his long stories.” A touch of the pot and kettle!!
She tapped on her ipad.
Once she’d given me my diagnosis we discussed what my next step would be. She acknowledged that I had done enough pyscho-education (educated myself on the options) and had a clear understanding of my issues and what I hoped to achieve with a diagnosis, and my expectations of using medication were reasonable and potentially achievable. There are other ways to support this diagnosis with coaching and CBT, but we agreed that I was probably beyond that with the things I wasn’t achieving and the efforts I’d made to overcome that. My sentence was to be a low dose of an amfetamine based drug increasing to a higher dose after 2 weeks, taken every day to establish effectiveness, side effects and suitability.
“This is not a cure, nor a magic potion. You have to work at the things you want to achieve.” She cautioned me.
She passed me the hankie box.