On the Sadism of Modern Medicine, the Joys of Being a Dad, and Seeing a Light at the End
I'm hoping to write this in one sitting, but having toddlers, that's not always possible. As I was typing that first sentence, Logan (my oldest son) brought me several glasses of make believe "soda-milk" to drink, so my assessment was more than accurate, presentient even. And presentient *is* a word. LiveJournal's spellcheck can suck it.
On to other topics. I recently saw an alergist regarding the ceaseless drip of my sinuses and shortness of breath issues. It's been years since I can remember not having some kind of sinus issue. I had sinus surgery a couple years back, which helped, but I started having problems again, so I went to an expert. And when I say expert, I mean it. The doctor I saw does clinical trials, research, and teaches on the subject. Here's the thing though, I was tested for asthma, which is about the most sadistic medical test I can think of off the top of my head. To diagnose it, they test your lung capacity. That sounds reasonable, right? Well, not so much when what's required is for someone (who has breathing trouble already) to breath out continuously and as hard as possible into a spirometer. If you're really trying (and really have asthma) you cough, see spots, and have to do your very best to not pass out.
It reminded me of the time I broke my foot. The doctor asked where it hurt. I pointed to the damaged bone. The doctor touched it with a tuning fork. After much screaming on my part, she concluded that, yes, my foot was actually broken, which X-rays confirmed.
I'm trying to keep this post cohesive, so bear with me if this seems tangential. I have three small children. This journal has been dormant for some time, and so most of you know little or nothing of them. Given the dark side of the internet, that may well be a good thing. Still, I find it somewhat sad that I missed chronicling their lives to this point. Moments in time are lost never to be recorded, and while no single moment was earthshaking--at least, no forgotten moment; the earthshaking ones stick to you--the loss of so many small, precious, everyday moments is a small tragedy that I will always regret at some level.
No dwelling; it solves nothing. Change of habits going forward, now that is what is called for. So, words to actions, Logan and I went camping this weekend at a large, organized father/son campout. It was a lot of fun. I bunked with Jeremy (my older brother) and his two oldest boys, and although I spent a lot of time following Logan around discreetly to ensure he didn't light himself on fire, it was peaceful and relaxing to unplug for 24 hours. Despite all my best efforts, Logan did get burned by another boy who was playing with a stick in the fire. To him, this was a grievous injury the next thing to dying (and perhaps his mom agrees with this sentiment from the mama-bear freak-out she had when we got home), but to me (and the rationally thinking world), it only amounted to two small burns on his throat, some blistering, and a fussy small boy. It wasn't enough to taint the trip. Kayaking, helping the boys with their capture the flag strategies, tossing Alex (nephew) in the rather chilly lake, these are the things I'll be taking with me. I tagged Logan with a headlamp and a blue light that hung around his neck. He thought it made him look awesome, but what it really did was make him very easy to track in the dark amongst the 100 or so kids who were there. He stayed up until 11:00, loved every moment of it, and I hope he took home a head full of pleasant, warm memories. The trip was a small step on the way to becoming a young man. He's a good kid, tells me he loves me (especially if I've just given him chocolate milk), and is the very definition of sweet and sour, melting your heart the one moment, and aggravating you to no end the next. He was so grateful for going on the camping trip and told me how happy he was to go and especially to go with me. It all made the lack of sleep and body aches worth it.
It's fitting that Logan get the spotlight on this entry, since most of the missed time came out of his lifespan. He and Jordan got shorted the most, so I'll work on giving them the time they deserve, but Addie and Brooklyn will get their time too. It's only fair.
And that brings me full circle to the beginning of the post. To slay the beast, you have to see the beast. The question lurking behind this post is *why* my blog lay dormant for so long, why so many moments got missed, why I lost so much... and the answer is that to cure a disease, you have to diagnose it first, which means you have to poke it, make it rear its ugly head, and then and only then do you know what you are dealing with.
I've known about one of the "beasts" for some time. I've dealt with depression off and on for my whole life; it's an old friend who stops by occasionally. I've had low points and high points, but mostly I've just lived and gotten along just fine. The last few months were a different story as what I lived through wasn't much of a life. I'm on the far side now, and that is all that really matters.
The second beast: Anxiety. I didn't know I had anxiety issues until law school, at least not severe ones. I mean, everybody has insecurities, right? Some of us are just better at hiding them than others. At law school, though, I tried out for the moot court team. I prepped and planned, but on the day of my audition, ironically enough, the guy I was to go up against had a mental breakdown and didn't show. The judge asked me to present my side (the defense) as though my opponent had just finished up. I was already nervous and that put the nail in the coffin. When I stood to speak, I found that words failed me. Not only that, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and when I eventually sputtered out all my prepared arguments, it was less than eloquent.
Needless to say, I didn't make the team, which is sad. The same arguments had gotten me an A- when I presented them to my teacher, who then suggested that I try for the team. Anxiety with associated panic attacks... I had no idea at the time of the diagnosis and I haven't really seen a doctor about it, but I've read enough medical files to know what it is. The symptoms are classic and hard to miss.
And now on to the third beast, the most nefarious, the most subtle, the most insidious, and, worst of all, the most treacherous. Treacherous... I think that is the most accurate descriptor. My whole life I have been able to exercise incredible focus. On a test, a school book, on a project, on whatever I set my mind to, I could hone in and absorb it all, retain it, and pull it back up from deepest memory, almost at will. I would focus so deeply that the world around me disappeared and only my target remained, which I pursued ruthlessly.
It served me well. I got much done, accomplished great things, got lost in incredible worlds within the written page... Success breeds success, and it also breeds ambition, so I pushed myself on to bigger and better things. Life was a challenge, and I had accepted it.
What I did not realize was that my incredible ability, my superpower that nobody else seemed to have, was really a mental disease. What I've described above is called hyper-focus. Doctors have noted that children who struggle in school and have certain learning difficulties also tend to be able to play video games or watch TV for hours on end, a.k.a. hyper-focus. These kids have A.D.D. or A.D.H.D., depending on the presence of the hyperactive component. The two illnesses are conflated these days and little distinguishes them other than that the "H" part is more easily observable in some people than others.
The thing is, in well-adapted people who have A.D.D., they can use it, harness it, and make it work for them, much like I did. It has downsides though, even for the well-adapted. Coming out of hyper-focus is disorienting (insert Star Wars joke here), and it takes a few moments to switch gears and deal with anything else. Also, if something "shiny" is drawing their attention, they have difficulty paying attention to anything else. The shiny is too powerful (personal example: if the TV is on an interesting show, I have trouble even holding a conversation) and they have a tendency to obsess over their most recent shiny thing. They also have a tendency to have trouble sleeping because their brains don't shut off, especially if they currently have a "shiny" to think about, and they have some difficulties with social interaction.
And those are the well-adapted crowd, of which I used to be a member. Lots of upside with attached idiosyncrasies and adaptations to keep things under control. And if someone is not well-adapted? Obsessions crowd out normal life. Responsibilities get neglected. Blogs die :). They hyper-focus effect generates dopamine and gives a temporary high. The person focuses on that, gets their need fulfilled from that, and they leave other things to the side to wither and die.
So how does someone go from well-adapted to poorly managed? For me, at least, it came from outside stressors, i.e., beasts #1 and #2, depression and anxiety. My work gave me plenty of both over the past five years, and when you are stressed and/or depressed, it's a quick, cheap cure to follow something shiny rather than deal with your problems.
And if depression gets too bad, A.D.D. gets completely uncontrollable. The world is completely fuzzy, and focusing on anything is a challenge. I know this from experience. It's how I got diagnosed.
I was shocked and surprised. My superpower, present since earliest childhood, was really kryptonite. In retrospect, it had caused me a lot of misery in my life, especially recently, and it had stopped serving me completely.
Medication has helped that. Knowing what I was dealing with has helped even more. And I only have the medication and the knowledge because the beast reared its ugly head and could not be ignored. The sadism of modern medicine, you don't know what to treat until the symptoms are undeniable.
Then things get better.
Hopefully.
On to other topics. I recently saw an alergist regarding the ceaseless drip of my sinuses and shortness of breath issues. It's been years since I can remember not having some kind of sinus issue. I had sinus surgery a couple years back, which helped, but I started having problems again, so I went to an expert. And when I say expert, I mean it. The doctor I saw does clinical trials, research, and teaches on the subject. Here's the thing though, I was tested for asthma, which is about the most sadistic medical test I can think of off the top of my head. To diagnose it, they test your lung capacity. That sounds reasonable, right? Well, not so much when what's required is for someone (who has breathing trouble already) to breath out continuously and as hard as possible into a spirometer. If you're really trying (and really have asthma) you cough, see spots, and have to do your very best to not pass out.
It reminded me of the time I broke my foot. The doctor asked where it hurt. I pointed to the damaged bone. The doctor touched it with a tuning fork. After much screaming on my part, she concluded that, yes, my foot was actually broken, which X-rays confirmed.
I'm trying to keep this post cohesive, so bear with me if this seems tangential. I have three small children. This journal has been dormant for some time, and so most of you know little or nothing of them. Given the dark side of the internet, that may well be a good thing. Still, I find it somewhat sad that I missed chronicling their lives to this point. Moments in time are lost never to be recorded, and while no single moment was earthshaking--at least, no forgotten moment; the earthshaking ones stick to you--the loss of so many small, precious, everyday moments is a small tragedy that I will always regret at some level.
No dwelling; it solves nothing. Change of habits going forward, now that is what is called for. So, words to actions, Logan and I went camping this weekend at a large, organized father/son campout. It was a lot of fun. I bunked with Jeremy (my older brother) and his two oldest boys, and although I spent a lot of time following Logan around discreetly to ensure he didn't light himself on fire, it was peaceful and relaxing to unplug for 24 hours. Despite all my best efforts, Logan did get burned by another boy who was playing with a stick in the fire. To him, this was a grievous injury the next thing to dying (and perhaps his mom agrees with this sentiment from the mama-bear freak-out she had when we got home), but to me (and the rationally thinking world), it only amounted to two small burns on his throat, some blistering, and a fussy small boy. It wasn't enough to taint the trip. Kayaking, helping the boys with their capture the flag strategies, tossing Alex (nephew) in the rather chilly lake, these are the things I'll be taking with me. I tagged Logan with a headlamp and a blue light that hung around his neck. He thought it made him look awesome, but what it really did was make him very easy to track in the dark amongst the 100 or so kids who were there. He stayed up until 11:00, loved every moment of it, and I hope he took home a head full of pleasant, warm memories. The trip was a small step on the way to becoming a young man. He's a good kid, tells me he loves me (especially if I've just given him chocolate milk), and is the very definition of sweet and sour, melting your heart the one moment, and aggravating you to no end the next. He was so grateful for going on the camping trip and told me how happy he was to go and especially to go with me. It all made the lack of sleep and body aches worth it.
It's fitting that Logan get the spotlight on this entry, since most of the missed time came out of his lifespan. He and Jordan got shorted the most, so I'll work on giving them the time they deserve, but Addie and Brooklyn will get their time too. It's only fair.
And that brings me full circle to the beginning of the post. To slay the beast, you have to see the beast. The question lurking behind this post is *why* my blog lay dormant for so long, why so many moments got missed, why I lost so much... and the answer is that to cure a disease, you have to diagnose it first, which means you have to poke it, make it rear its ugly head, and then and only then do you know what you are dealing with.
I've known about one of the "beasts" for some time. I've dealt with depression off and on for my whole life; it's an old friend who stops by occasionally. I've had low points and high points, but mostly I've just lived and gotten along just fine. The last few months were a different story as what I lived through wasn't much of a life. I'm on the far side now, and that is all that really matters.
The second beast: Anxiety. I didn't know I had anxiety issues until law school, at least not severe ones. I mean, everybody has insecurities, right? Some of us are just better at hiding them than others. At law school, though, I tried out for the moot court team. I prepped and planned, but on the day of my audition, ironically enough, the guy I was to go up against had a mental breakdown and didn't show. The judge asked me to present my side (the defense) as though my opponent had just finished up. I was already nervous and that put the nail in the coffin. When I stood to speak, I found that words failed me. Not only that, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and when I eventually sputtered out all my prepared arguments, it was less than eloquent.
Needless to say, I didn't make the team, which is sad. The same arguments had gotten me an A- when I presented them to my teacher, who then suggested that I try for the team. Anxiety with associated panic attacks... I had no idea at the time of the diagnosis and I haven't really seen a doctor about it, but I've read enough medical files to know what it is. The symptoms are classic and hard to miss.
And now on to the third beast, the most nefarious, the most subtle, the most insidious, and, worst of all, the most treacherous. Treacherous... I think that is the most accurate descriptor. My whole life I have been able to exercise incredible focus. On a test, a school book, on a project, on whatever I set my mind to, I could hone in and absorb it all, retain it, and pull it back up from deepest memory, almost at will. I would focus so deeply that the world around me disappeared and only my target remained, which I pursued ruthlessly.
It served me well. I got much done, accomplished great things, got lost in incredible worlds within the written page... Success breeds success, and it also breeds ambition, so I pushed myself on to bigger and better things. Life was a challenge, and I had accepted it.
What I did not realize was that my incredible ability, my superpower that nobody else seemed to have, was really a mental disease. What I've described above is called hyper-focus. Doctors have noted that children who struggle in school and have certain learning difficulties also tend to be able to play video games or watch TV for hours on end, a.k.a. hyper-focus. These kids have A.D.D. or A.D.H.D., depending on the presence of the hyperactive component. The two illnesses are conflated these days and little distinguishes them other than that the "H" part is more easily observable in some people than others.
The thing is, in well-adapted people who have A.D.D., they can use it, harness it, and make it work for them, much like I did. It has downsides though, even for the well-adapted. Coming out of hyper-focus is disorienting (insert Star Wars joke here), and it takes a few moments to switch gears and deal with anything else. Also, if something "shiny" is drawing their attention, they have difficulty paying attention to anything else. The shiny is too powerful (personal example: if the TV is on an interesting show, I have trouble even holding a conversation) and they have a tendency to obsess over their most recent shiny thing. They also have a tendency to have trouble sleeping because their brains don't shut off, especially if they currently have a "shiny" to think about, and they have some difficulties with social interaction.
And those are the well-adapted crowd, of which I used to be a member. Lots of upside with attached idiosyncrasies and adaptations to keep things under control. And if someone is not well-adapted? Obsessions crowd out normal life. Responsibilities get neglected. Blogs die :). They hyper-focus effect generates dopamine and gives a temporary high. The person focuses on that, gets their need fulfilled from that, and they leave other things to the side to wither and die.
So how does someone go from well-adapted to poorly managed? For me, at least, it came from outside stressors, i.e., beasts #1 and #2, depression and anxiety. My work gave me plenty of both over the past five years, and when you are stressed and/or depressed, it's a quick, cheap cure to follow something shiny rather than deal with your problems.
And if depression gets too bad, A.D.D. gets completely uncontrollable. The world is completely fuzzy, and focusing on anything is a challenge. I know this from experience. It's how I got diagnosed.
I was shocked and surprised. My superpower, present since earliest childhood, was really kryptonite. In retrospect, it had caused me a lot of misery in my life, especially recently, and it had stopped serving me completely.
Medication has helped that. Knowing what I was dealing with has helped even more. And I only have the medication and the knowledge because the beast reared its ugly head and could not be ignored. The sadism of modern medicine, you don't know what to treat until the symptoms are undeniable.
Then things get better.
Hopefully.