I saw my new shrink last week. She was nice, friendly, positive, and generally affirmative (affirmational? She affirmed what I said) but, as she pointed out before we even sat down, it was a bit of a mismatch. She deals with palliative care patients, and not at all with ADD. She was only handed my file* because they needed people to take over for my regular shrink, who is now on maternity leave.
I was a bit disappointed because I had been imagining this new doctor-patient relationship as the one that would complete me, mental health-wise. Alas. I need a Tinder for psychiatrists.
She asked me, at one point, probably because I was rambling at high speed and holding a Grande Pike Place, whether I was self-medicating with coffee. I am not, and I told her as much. I usually have one coffee in the morning and one, if I am desperate to stay awake, around the kid’s bedtime.
She also told me, as my last shrink told me, and probably everyone in the medical profession will tell me, that I need to get on the meds and just stay on them if I want to have a good idea of whether or not they’re having any effect. As you may recall, this is one of the great questions that surround my decision to medicate.
Since taking them intermittently, as I have been doing (sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally) for more than a year, is not a viable option for me at this point, I have a problem. Even if I ‘set an alarm on my phone’ (which everyone thinks is the answer to everything ADD), taking them on a regular basis has proven to be much more difficult than it would seem. It’s not that I don’t remember to take them. It’s that if I remember, and I am not seated at my desk (where I keep the bottle) or in a position to get the ‘travel pack’ out of my purse immediately, then the task will get put on an indefinite ‘snooze.’
At the behest of Dr. Affirmational, I decided to try once again. She asked if I could commit to two weeks straight and I told her, without much confidence, that I would surely try. My appointment was on a Thursday, and I decided that the following Monday would be my first day. I took a pill on Monday. I took one on Tuesday. I took one on Wednesday. I forgot them on Thursday and Friday and then didn’t bother over the weekend.
Correction: I did not forget them on Thursday and Friday, Rather, I remembered on Thursday but I was in the car, driving. And I remembered on Friday but I was in the supermarket, and I was in a rush to get out.
Today is Monday, the start of a fresh new week. I took one this morning. It made me jittery after an hour. I calmed down. I am finishing my blog post that I’ve been meaning to write for 11 days. Thanks to the shakes, I know it’s having an effect on me, but I don’t know if it’s actually fulfilling the intended purpose. Hopefully, if I can keep up with the Concertas, I’ll be able to tell you in two weeks. Wish me luck.
*Interestingly, she was actually NOT handed my file. So most of my visit consisted of me recounting all the things I do and the things I don’t get around to doing and how I feel about it all. What else would we have talked about, really?