The Hereditary Nature of ADD and the Sins of the Fathers

The teacher at the new kindergarten where Image is going to informed us (in a very sensitive manner) that she picks up that Image has certain integration issues and "fall-outs" and recommended we see an occupational therapist.

Oh shit... I, J. Hardspear de la Azotea, who is scared of ADD know where this is leading to...

ADD, Instant Gratification & Gardening

Let me just start off first with my rant of the day… I HAVE ADD AND I FIND IT VERY D I F F I C U L T TO FOLLOW AN INSTRUCTION OR PERFORM A REQUEST IF YOU WON’T GIVE ME THE REASON FOR DOING IT!!! Sommer is nie ‘n rede nie – skilpad het nie vere nie! “Just because”, “Because I asked you”, “Because I SAID so” and “Just do it!” does not WORK for me. I cope with enough distractions without having to figure out WHY I have to do what you asked/instructed/commanded me to do! For FUCK sakes man, is it so HARD to give my just a one liner reason? YOU try to get a day’s work done with Duck Sauce’s “Barbara Streisand” playing loudly in your head for 4 consecutive confounded days. Over and over again – it is the last thing I hear before I go to sleep and the very first thing I hear when I wake up. I hear it when I work, I hear whilst you talk to me (and I need to concentrate because you are in the background) I even here it when I’m in the kakhuis. It is not that I do not WANT to do schtuff, just remember your MOTIVATED wish is my command. I know it is frustrating to always give a reason for everything, but I am TRYING on my end – so do not make it HARDER for me still…

OK, now that we’ve got that out of the way…

ADD & irritation

Yesterday I was stuck in traffic for 3 hours on my to work. My levels of frustration hit maximum, and I was NEVER able to calm down again for the rest of the day. I left very early this morning, but I have still not recovered completely. It feels as if all my synapses are going bzzt bzzt bzzt bzzzzzzzz zt zt zt bzzzz. On days like yesterday not even Ritalin helps.

Ascribe Mental Disability to ADD, Make it Official, Bawl Your Eyes Out and Pick Yourself Up Again

This is a blog about ADD, so hey, let me do a post about ADD for a change. I, J. Hardspear de la Azotea should be studying, but hey, here I am Blogging. Hope it helps for Friday’s exam... I am busy with my 5th career change. NOT JOB CHANGE – CAREER CHANGE. As I’ve said before, I am learning a new ERP programme. Now... my best friend and boss, Army Man and I both suffer from ADD (or is it endure having? bear having? excel at having? despair at having? shine at having? surpass because of having ADD?). Recently we started toying with the idea of making the fact that we have ADD official in order to score a better rating on our company’s BEE status – on account of disability, that is. We approached our Auditor, The King of Bethlehem. The King of Bethlehem’s feedback on that was inconclusive, but he found that there are a lot of tax benefits for people with disabilities. He obtained the SARS criteria for being classed as mentally disabled for us, and off we went to see a psychologist. The psychologist told us in no uncertain terms that he is NOT going to fudge his findings just so that we can get tax benefit. His findings will be his findings and should it be above the SARS criteria, that is that then. He performed a standard internationally recognized test for ADD as well as another test which tests general mental functioning. The ADD test unequivocally supported an ADD diagnosis. The report on the other test on mental functioning rocked me a bit. It highlighted amongst others the following characteristics of mine: - Self Defeating Behaviour - Self Limiting Behaviour - Poor handling of success. (so even if I achieve i am unable to deal with it like a normal person) - Social ineptness (I am not so sure I agree) - Depression & Anxiety - Poor self image - Blah, fucking blah blah. Unfortunately, apart from the social ineptness, I have to agree with most... In any case, we DID meet the SARS criteria and are now classed with having a mental disability on our return forms. I realised again that I have overcome so much, but there are limits to what I can do and achieve and maintain. I grasped again that my efforts in important relationships are diminished by factors not always in my control. But HELL I TRY. I TRY! I got this feedback last Friday and by Saturday afternoon, I was in a right state. We took Image for a stroll in the neighbourhood and at some point in the middle of the road, I burst out in tears. This upset Lamb big time. She realised it was about the feedback, but I refused to talk about it. I told her that it is something I will have to deal with, and I will be over it again by the following day. True as nuts. Sunday I woke up mentally energised and happy. Fuck. I have ADD. I have had to deal with it up to now. Comparing to many other people with ADD, I am actually High Functioning. So, henceforth I will have to deal with it again. BASTA! I co-instigated this whole process with SARS, I got a result, and Boo-Hoo, I have a mental disability. Guess what, It could have been worse. I could have been short or have ugly feet or something. I am tall and I have beautifully high-arched narrow feet. In the meanwhile, I thought I had a heart cramp. I had it checked out by a cardiologist, who had me running attached to wires and a computer on a treadmill. He kept on increasing the incline and speed, until it felt as if I am sprinting up Mount Aux Sources. I thought that this Doctor had better do something about his BO, but realised after a while that I am smelling my profusely sweating self. He did a sonar as well after which he declared my heart perfectly fit and healthy. He cautioned about stress and told me to exercise. I am now yet again a member of Virgin Active. I’ll start next week. Get this exam past me again first. Work is so hectic. I am involved in 3 major projects simultaneously.

L-Arginine – the price for sex leaves a bad taste in the mouth

I have too many topics I want to cram into this one post, so maybe I’ll refer to them all and discuss them at length in posts to follow, we’ll see. Let me start with a bit of an update of what happened during my blogging drought between October 2009 and March 2010. I was feeling more than a bit overwhelmed with everything going on in my life. I had a terrible time at work (I am on the project from hell) and after a year we were still struggling to come to terms with caring for a baby after 11 years of marriage. I was feeling seriously stuck and became worried that my emotional state would negatively impact my relationship with Lamb and Image and, so I asked my Psychologist friend, Supplanter, for a referral to another Psychologist, as I would not be comfortable seeing him, since we are friends. He referred me to a lady called Paris von Dry Season. I felt comfortable with Paris straight away (funky older lady – platinum blond with a pink stripe in her hair). Paris suggested that I see a Psychiatrist as well, as she felt that I need to consider medication for depression/anxiety. Now depression and anxiety are called co-morbid conditions to ADD. It is thus not uncommon for people/children with AD(H)D to have either or both. Since I do not have to spill my guts to a Psychiatrist in the same fashion as to a Psychologist, I felt comfortable to approach Cara Noir, someone I know socially-bordering-on-friend. Cara indeed prescribed an anti-depressant, one which also alleviates anxiety and can be safely taken with Ritalin. I feel that I’ve greatly benefited from the combined therapy, despite work conditions deteriorating and even though the passing away of my Mother set me back a bit. (At least I feel that I am advancing in the grieving process – Feb was a terrible month in that respect, but I feel much lighter as of late). Anti-depressants, however can inhibit one’s sex drive and I have certainly felt that. It is strange... the mechanics still works perfectly, but the drive is not what it was before. Top that with the diminished opportunity for nooky which a new baby brings along... So, as I very often do, I jumped on the internet. I found that the supplement l-arginine is recommended for lowered sex drive due to the taking of anti-depressants. L-arginine is a supplement taken amongst others by body builders, as it is a precursor or something to the human growth hormone – so it helps you build muscle. So off I went to Dischem and bought a bottle of Solal (my preferred supplement brand) l-arginine (powder form). The first trick was to find the right time to drink the stuff, as it is to be taken on an empty stomach, at least two hours before or after a meal. Very rarely does 4 hours pass without me having anything to eat, so... When eventually I ended up for a brief period with an empty stomach, I took the powder as per the (inadequate) instructions. The bottle just said 3 scoops. I proceeded to add 3 scoops to half a glass of cold water. I stirred it well and drank deeply. Merde! Scheissen! ¡Hijo da puta! Fokken Moer die goed is sleg! I started gagging, heaving and roaring, but stopped just short of actually throwing up. The stuff is totally undrinkable. I added half a glass of grape juice, pinched my nose closed and downed the rest (the stuff is damn expensive). Lamb nearly peed herself with laughter. L-Arginine is vile-and evil tasting. It has a strong bicarbonate of soda tang overlaid with an odd bitterness and saltiness which sticks to the back of your throat. This is all combined with some other inexplicable taste – something I have not yet encountered. Onto the net again. I learned that acidity helps in countering the taste. The next time I dissolved it in Lemon juice (lots) and added ice cold water (lots). It was still not nice, but I managed much better this time. And guess what... It works. Although, I must admit, I am one of those people on which the placebo will work as well as the real thing. Just the act of taking something makes me feel better already. I’ve decided to spice my posts up a bit with some charts & graphs – so here is the first of my new vital statistics feature: The taste of l-arginine vs it’s effect over time.

What is the vilest thing you have ever tasted?

Double Ritalin on Coffee with two sugars please – oh, and lots of milk.

I, J. Hardspear de la Azotea know I should not take double doses of Ritalin, but last week I did. The new job is very hectic. My predecessor left and I am coming on board ¾’s of the way through the project. So I have a lot of catching up to do. My predecessor did NOTHING so everything on my project role is a mess. Now remember Ritalin is a stimulant. So I worked like a man possessed on the double dosages. I also had to do a personal financial management cum team building on the side on Saturday. My colleague worked out the teambuilding part, but I had to work out the presentation for the personal financial management bit. That had to happen out of work time. So you can imagine... I did pay dearly though. By Sunday I was klaar, klar, klarrrrr. Monday I walked round like an automaton. Yesterday I started to recover, but I nodded off during a meeting (9:30) in the morning. I think one lady saw me, because I caught her trying to suppress a smile. Today I feel my old self again and I am only on Chai Tea.

Thoughts like glue

In the previous post I mentioned how people with ADD can get stuck on a topic. It is hard to express how one thing can consume one so totally and completely. When I plan a big meal for friends, I think of nothing else for days. I become one with the ingredients. I become the recipe. I struggle to sleep because my thoughts are consumed by what I am going to make to eat, how I am going to make it, how I am going to make it special, what we’re going to drink. I start living the event for two days and up to a week before the time. If I manage to sleep, I dream about it. I know beforehand that no matter what the guests will be drinking, I’ll be wanting a good robust red wine with a nose of wood and smoke and palate to match. Or sometimes it will be crisp Riesling smelling of cut grass and tasting of green grapes. Sometimes I’ll feel like having beer only, but it will definite be part of my beforehand thoughts. I will also start to feel just how a good time we will be having. During this time it is hard to have conversations about anything else. It is then also hard to cope with other people continuously INTRUDING, or TRYING TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT! WOE BETIDE YOU should you inadvertently and innocently and unsuspectingly mention one of my favourite topics in a conversation. At first you will think – “Aah, nice, we have something in common.” Then you’ll think, “he’s quite knowledgeable about this.” From there it will quickly progress to, “heavens, how am I going to get him to stop!?” Jaaa, I know we ADD’ers mess up sometimes, but because of getting thát stuck on a topic, we’ve been practicing for so long in our heads, that by the time we actually get round to do what we have been stuck on, the results will surprise you, for it will be perfect and done with a lot of creativity. As for ourselves, many times other people will love the result, but we will still not be satisfied, for it may not quite be how we imagined. At other times it will be even better than what we visualised it. If it came out not as we would have wanted it, we will agonise for a little and then drop it. If it came out better... well we will be even more stuck to the subject for a bit. Sometimes you’ll want us to repeat what we did, only to be annoyed to find us pulling a face. Remember, by that time we may already be stuck on something different entirely... And you’ll be like “you’re so gooood at it, why don’t you keep at it and make money from it?” And we’ll be like “Dude!, I am trying to figure out how to build this bird-feeder in the form of a medieval castle!”

Laughing at ourselves

ADD Jokes How many ADDers does it take to change a light bulb? Only one, but it took several light bulbs and several months to get it done because the ADDer..... Paid for the lightbulb then left it in the shop on the counter. Dropped another light bulb out of a hole in his/her shopping bag didn't notice and ran over it with a truck. Bought the wrong sort of lightbulb because s/he couldn't be bothered checking which sort of light bulb was needed cause that's boring. Left the light bulb under a pile of clothes for several weeks before s/he got around to trying to put it up. Couldn't remember who s/he gave the ladder too so decided they had to go buy another. Took the old light bulb down put it on the floor next to the new light bulb got distracted by an idea in his/her head. Ran to get notebook to write idea down idea forgot about light bulb for an hour as other thoughts came to mind, remembered lightbulb couldn't figure out which was the old light bulb and which was the new light bulb AARRRRRRRRRRRRRGWho invented such an inhuman thing as a light bulb?! Have you heard about the ADD computer virus? It periodically erases your RAM but your computer runs at 1000 000 Mhz and multitasks like a supercomputer! QUESTION: How would they diagnose ADD in a chicken? ANSWER: It never gets all the way across the road because of all the distractions.

The Ritalin Song

Ever wondered what it feels like to take Ritalin when you have ADD? I’ll do my very best. I have a song I associate with Ritalin. It is ‘Remember Me’ by Blue Boy. The song has only one line – “Remember me, I’m the one who had your babies.” It also includes a scat refrain going “ging-gi-gi-ging-ging-ging”. The one line and scat gets repeated over and over during the song. Remember Me was a dance hit in 1997. The song starts with a bzzz sound – reminiscent of a machine being switched on. Then there is a sound which can only be described as electronic bubbles before the lyrics start. There is also a very strong beat which gets repeated without variation throughout the song. So, about 10 minutes after I take my first Ritalin at 7 in the morning, a bzzz feeling starts and gets stronger till the methylphenidate hydrochloride (active ingredient in Ritalin & Concerta) kicks in good and proper, just as the bzzz in the song starts very soft and become louder. When I feel the electronic bubbles, I know we are at full strength now. For the next 4 hours I am on a sustained repetitive beat, same as the beat in the song. The lyrics and the scat are immaterial, but their repetitiveness and upbeatness (I know there is no such word) is the only way in which I can describe how it feels to be on Ritalin. If I take my 11 o’ clock and 3pm Ritalin, I will be on this beat till 7pm, after which I will come off. I will usually be tired then. Concerta is a slow release version, and works very good for many people, but I don’t like it. Because of the monotonous repetition of the lyrics, beat and scat, I feel with-it and I can concentrate on things. If I don’t take Ritalin, it is like having headphones on with two different songs playing in each ear. (Come on Eileen in the one ear and Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture in the other.) In both pieces the rhythm and cadence keeps on changing drastically. It is huge fun, but it makes it near impossible to concentrate on anything else.

Being recidivist

Angel’s son has ADD and is making her moedeloos (no English equivalent) at the moment. Angel feels that much of it is her fault. As parents – people do make mistakes and the things parents do and don’t do does have an effect on their children. I still feel Angel shouldn’t beat herself up too much. Personally I am very wary of blaming ADD for everything that goes wrong in my life, but if you read my blog and the blogs of people like Angel & Momcat (both to whom I regularly refer to) you’ll find that it ain’t easy. The word recidivist often applies to people with ADD. A recidivist is someone who continues to display undesirable behaviour or even commit crimes despite having been punished for such behaviour before and despite of full knowing well what the consequences of such behaviour may be. Lamb tells me of a boy with ADD in her grade 1 class. This boy sits at the back of the class and every afternoon when the final bell rings and Lamb lets them out he puts his schoolbag on his back and as he walks to the door bumps off all the little chairs which Lamb had the children put on the desks before they leave. Notwithstanding everything she’d done to deter the boy from doing this and even in the face of her threatening him with whatever punishment, he continues to do this. People call this anti-social behaviour and whatnot, but here is some insight that I, J. Hardspear de la Azotea can give you, being a recidivist myself. Even though I have become extremely adept at hiding my bad behaviour, I still get caught. Why do I do it then?... Well I don’t know. All I know is that the simplest of tasks, for instance having to make a short phone call at work to arrange something, sometimes seems insurmountable to me. And when I get to such a task – it is like a dam wall, blocking all the other things I have to do. I find it impossible to do anything else until I’ve done this thing which I positively cannot get myself to do. So all my work pile up and pile up till I am in real trouble. When I then get into trouble, it most definitely does not deter me from doing it again. Ok, that is: not doing what I should do. The same applies for: doing what I shouldn’t do. The compulsion to do something I know I must not do sometimes becomes overriding and an obsession. And it is not only addictions. It is like starting to swear real bad at someone without being provoked, simply because you feel like it. Why do I feel it is not anti-social? Because my conscience eats at me when I do that which I shouldn’t and even more so when I don’t do what I should. It positively eats at me. I do feel that people with ADD should face the consequences of what they do like anybody else, but sometimes it feels to me that my life consists entirely of facing consequences. When I am in a good mood I can with effort desist these compulsions, but boy, when I am tired or depressed it becomes real hard. I can deal with significant people in my life’s disappointment in me, but fuck; I cannot deal with my own disappointment in myself nor the regret of not doing which I should. Nor the guilt of doing which I shouldn’t.

Galaxies in the Air, Annoyance and Genes

I have not done a post on Adult ADD / ADHD / Attention Deficit Disorder in a very long while and I think it is time to do so again. This post will be on one of many aspects of having ADD which I am partial to, it will also include one of many aspects of having ADD which I find objectionable and lastly an aspect which I feel ambivalent about. The Good... You have not the faintest what daydreaming is if you do not have ADD. When I start building Castles in the Air, it soon becomes towns, cities, countries, planets, solar systems and eventually whole Galaxies. Being lost in thought if you have ADD is a multi-dimensional, multi-faceted and multi-level experience. I do not have a happy place to go to, I have dizzying Warp Speed flights through a whole star-filled universe bursting with luminous colours. It is a place where I can be anything, where I am everything. I can experience all I want to without taking any drugs – my mind just takes me there. My flights of fancy are elaborate and take place in series and sequels. Sometimes I am the star in my own rock concert / opera / musical / play / movie. I am the DJ, the drummer, the vocalist, the guitarist, the pianist, the violinist, the tenor, the bass the baritone the actor, the choreographer, the set designer. I am attractive, I am talented, I am genius. I smash my guitar, I crowd surf, I hold a note so long that glass shatter. I bring the crowd to tears, I win Oscars. The Bad... People with ADD are notoriously irritable. Nothing, no reason, grounds, catalyst and still I can suddenly get extremely annoyed, wound up, aggravated, irritable, touchy and bad tempered. Fair... we know it is a trait of AD(H)D. (By the way, my Dr. diagnosed my particular type as ADhD. Capitals ADD because I have Attention Deficit Disorder, lowercase h, because I am only mildly hyperactive.) What is funny though, and what is unpleasant, is that I cannot cope with irritability in other people. ESPECIALLY if someone reacts irritable towards me and ABOVE ALL, if I perceive that I am the cause of their irritability. Immediately I feel rejected, silly, not good enough, hurt, self conscious, and hopelessly insecure. I’ll react immediately by lashing out with my tongue and saying horrible and hurtful things. Or I will retract and withdraw so utterly and completely as if it is a shield snapping shut around me. And it is not just a short term effect on my, my self-confidence takes nasty knock. The can be either Ugly or Beautiful... Finally something I feel ambivalent about, is the fact that ADD is hereditary and that there is a good chance that little Image might also have ADD. It is too early to tell, but I really do not know how I feel about this issue. Right, enough of that. I am not even going to bore you with the details of what a struggle I had with Vodakak since Tuesday because of my 3G account. I’ve seen your posts, I know you know what I’ve been through...

I am stuffed

No rest for my soul, nor my body. Image, now 4 and a half months old, is teething and has Upper Respiratory Tract Infection. Lamb, turning 35 on Sunday, has PMS and URTI as well… House a tip – Cleaning Lady did not pitch (not her fault – silly woman she works for on other days is stuffing around with OUR turn) Results: Teething = Irritated baby making the most revolting nappies imaginable. PMS = Irritated Mommy making the most revolting comments imaginable. URTI = Super irritated baby who does not eat nor sleep well. Super irritated Mommy who does not eat nor sleep well. ADD = Freaked out – Mega irritated Daddy who stuffs his face and are able to sleep well, but cannot. Rain making traffic impossible in the whole of Gauteng didn’t help. The network at work runs like cold treacle down a 5º slope this morning… Daddy is buzzing – he took double Ritalin this morning and on his way to work got one of those little sachets caffeine saturated “multi-vitamin” fixes one buy from petrol garages… Daddy knows he mustn’t, but he just hopes he can get through this day.

Boring ADD Blogs

ADD, Adult ADD, ADHD and attention deficit disorder Blogs. When I read your ADD related blog, I want to know how Attention Deficit Disorder effects and affects your life. Many blogs on Adult ADD are so incredibly boring it makes you want to suppurate (verb: cause to ripen and discharge pus). Do these individuals or assemblages of individuals, guilty of producing these uninteresting and tedious blogs not realise that people with Attention Deficit Disorder shun all things dull and dreary? So if I want to read more about how ADD affects your life and I land on a mind numbing and lacklustre blog, I move on. It us usually contains very generic and non-practical advice such as “start lists” or “get organised”. That is just it, I. Cannot. Just. GET. O R G A N I S E D ! ! I need to know HOW and I need to see how you do it! Many blogs dishing out advice to parents with children with AD/HD are just as unexciting. The net abounds with authoritative websites where one can find all the info on ADD you need. Many Blogs on ADD just repeat such information. I just feel that if I want info, I can go to a website, but for the info made practical I’d like to see that reflected in a blog. Luckily there is a few pinpricks of light here and there. I’d like to highlight two blogs by moms with children with Attention Deficit Disorder. The first one is by Angel. Angel gets the following thing just right. A log of her everyday life with highlights and lowlights interspersed with how her son’s ADD affects her life, her son’s life and that of all other significant people close to them. It is so worth the read. The second one is that of Momcat, a blog of another mom with sons with ADD. I think she commented on my blog first and when I went to have a look at her blog, I found something worth the while for me to go and have a look at every day. By reading blogs like these I find not only the what, but the how as well. Accounts such as can be found on these blogs creates real understanding and real awareness of ADD.

ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder, ADHD from the perspective of an ADD’er

ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder, ADHD from the perspective of an ADD’er Oscar Pistorius. I am taking liberties using him as an example, but think about this. No one denies that he has achieved incredible success and we haven’t even seen him peak yet. He runs like the wind. Does this mean that he does not have a disability? No. He has a disability, he just worked to deal with it, live with it and overcome the huge obstacles that it poses. He needs to use paddles where we use feet. He does not need pity, but he might have needed more support than someone without a disability. One of the people I respect most, blogging buddy Angel, did a post on the disability perspective on ADD. Whereas you may not see any physical indication of our disability (there are though – our faces may be slightly asymmetric, we may have a very high palate, we may have a very high foot bridge, there may be a very big gap between our big toe and the rest of our toes etc – still it is not very noticeable) you may see the behaviour manifests of our disability. You may not notice that it is because of our disability. You do not see that my right brain is extremely well developed as a result of having ADD – you will think that I am creative and that I march to the tune of a different drummer. You do not see that my left brain is underdeveloped because of having attention deficit disorder – you will think I am not good with figures and that I am a bit of a scatterbrain. You may think that I have nervous energy and my pacing up and down may irritate you – but you have missed that I am hyperactive. Ritalin, therapy and knowledge about my condition is my ‘paddles’ and my crutch. When Lance Armstrong learnt that he had cancer, what was the first thing he did once the shock wore off. He tried to get as much information as he possibly could. Information is one of the strongest crutches. Lance Armstrong did not decide what cancer treatment to get from Hello, You, Cosmopolitan, Huisgenoot etc. Why do you take the Hello, You, Cosmopolitan, Huisgenoot view on ADD drugs & treatment as the full gospel? Have you consulted specialists or authoritative medical journals? I do not know Oscar Pistorius’ mind, but people achieving despite disability recognise the fact that their disability may have made them more tenacious and hungry for success, thus making them work harder than they would have without the disability, but deep in their mind, sometimes a little voice tells them that it might have been nice NOT to have the disability. During unguarded moments I sometimes slip into a bad place and I wonder if the cost of my achievements academically and career wise was not all together too great. Sometimes I cry because what I have seems mediocre to me and I wonder had I not had ADD where would I be…

Circumcision Foreskins and Julius Malema

Circumcision Foreskins and Julius Malema. Eventually someone managed to rattle that idiot Julius Malema. I know this is old news already, but this is classic ADD. A topic will get stuck in you head and even if everybody else have moved on, you’re still there. That idiot Julius Malema have been insulting the world and his wife and getting away with it. Now he is upset because Helen Zille called him an Inkwenkwe. It is a Xhosa word for ‘boy’, but it also implies an uncircumcised boy who has not yet been through the traditional Xhosa Initiation Rites. It boils down to meaning someone with no authority whom should not be taken seriously. Now that idiot Julius Malema claims that Helen Zille is going below the belt with her comments. While we’re on the topic… I am getting mortally tired and unutterably weary of the whole circumcision discussion. Open a Men’s Health, FHM, Esquire etc and you’ll find a debate on circumcision. To the participants of this debate, I want to say: “You have a penis, for crying out loud! Stand up and be counted as a man and stop crying whether you should have an extra piece of skin or not!” One of the strangest relics that existed in the Roman Catholic Church surely must be the Holy Prepuce. The Holy Prepuce was believed to be Christ’s foreskin which was kept as a relic after he was circumcised according to Jewish Custom. At some stage hundreds of little pieces of shrivelled skin all claiming to be the Holy Prepuce existed all over Europe. This may have been one of the reasons why the Catholic Church at some point in time proclaimed the Holy Prepuce not to be a relic any longer. I am not one for poetry. I don’t get it. Maybe I am to shallow. The only form of poetry I like is limericks. Some won’t even call it poetry, as it is a type of rhyme really. Here is one of my favourites, dealing with the topic at hand: There was a man from Bombay who fashioned a cunt out of clay the heat of his prick then turned it to brick and chafed all his foreskin away. We weren’t married long when I had to go for a sinus operation. When I came to from the anaesthesia (I am told) I pulled all the IVs from my arm, making a bloody mess. I started swearing at the nurses and the moment I saw Lamb I asked her whether they circumcised me while I was under. Only when she assured me that they didn’t I calmed down, after which I told her that I was hungry and wanted food that very instant. Luckily I don’t remember any of this. So this is me on the topic of circumcision, foreskins and Julius Malema.

Angelic Advice

I have forever craved acceptance and understanding. The harder I tried, the more it eluded me. I never realized that my behaviour puts a barrier between me and others. I also did not understand myself. THAT is the reason why I was elated when diagnosed with ADD when I was 28. Finally I at least understood. Treatment made me better and my interaction with others improved exponentially. I still fail to make people completely understand. Letting people know that I have ADD complicates matters more. I used to do that hoping people will understand better, but I achieved the opposite. Now I don’t tell people any longer. This morning I had a lump in my throat reading another blogger - Angel’s latest post. Angel is a single mom raising an ADHD son. I implore everyone who knows someone with AD/HD or knows someone raising children with ADHD to read her post. I have never come across so much genuine understanding. I wish I could comment on everything she says, but I will limit it to point 6 in her post. May the journalists of the likes of Carte Blanche and popular magazines like You and Huisgenoot rot in hell for their contribution to the stigma amongst the general public which clings to ADD medication.

Too-Ray-Ay

As you can see from with the posts below, today is lists day. We all know the phenomenon of a song turning in your head. A common comment from people with AD/HD, however is that we CONSTANTLY have a song in our heads. I sometimes have the same song for two weeks or longer. It becomes excruciating after a while. It is the last thing you hear before falling asleep and the very first thing you wake up to. Most often it is something ridiculous like “Three Blind Mice” or “Una Paloma Blanca”. The worst however is radio advertisement jingles… On Radio Highveld (Johannesburg SA) there is one which plague me forever. As soon as it is out of my head, they play it again. And then it is all over again. It is for a chain of shops that sell bathroom fixtures (or is it – which sells bathroom fixtures? Singular or plural? Should I refer to single chain or plural shops? Bugger, Bugger, bollocks bollocs!). The place is called Bathroom Bizarre. The jingle goes… “For mind-blowing bathroom specials, come to Bathroom Bizarre. That’s B.I.Z.A.R.R.E, come to Bathroom Bizarre, Come to Bathroom Bizarre.” It drives me insane. I know that is the purpose of catchy jingle tunes, but to me it is endless torture. Sometimes it is not even a tune, it is a word or a phrase. The most recent was the words “Minister Plenipotentiary”. It kept turning and turning in my head. Today’s song in my head is also one with an extreme propensity for sticking in one’s head – “Come on Eileen”

Tactile Defensiveness 2

A while back I went for a general medical check-up. When my doctor took my blood pressure her eyebrows shot up so high, it nearly touched her hairline. She did not say anything, she just took another – now what do you call it, one of those blood pressure measurer thingies. Wait let me look it up… Oh it is called a sphygmomanometer. Heavens above! I’ll not try to pronounce that. My tongue will get twisted and I don’t think I’ll be able to get it straightened again. Anyway, she took another sphygmomanometer (electronic this time) and took my blood pressure again. Same result. Extremely high. I told her that I don’t understand, I have started improving my lifestyle a year before. I finally quit smoking, I try to eat healthier and I exercise. She then told me, to get a better idea, she will arrange for a medical rep to fit me with an ambulatory blood pressure monitor for 24 hours. They fitted me with the thing at about 3’o clock the afternoon. I had to go back to work, we still had a meeting. The thing works like this. They fix the band bit round your upper arm. From the band bit a rubber pipe runs (underneath you shirt) to the monitor bit, which has a clip and can be fixed to your belt/waistband. Now, every half an hour I would hear the thing start to brrrr. Then I would feel how the arm band would start inflating till my arm goes numb. Later in the meeting, I was not aware of anything going on in the meeting. I was just in a state of anxiety because of this infernal thing on my arm. The anticipation of when is it going to start brrrr-ing again just killed me. So by the next time it started inflating I was in a right state. To the shock and confusion of the other attendees at the meeting, I jumped up, ripped open my shirt and continued ripping till I was free of the band, the rubber pipe and the exasperating device. I only calmed down a day later. My doctor was quite mad at me and I saw her scrawl “Pt cannot tolerate device” angrily in the file. For my sins I had to go into the consultation rooms for a few consecutive days for the nurse to take and record my blood pressure. Like an old geezer I now have to take a blood pressure tablet in the mornings and a cholesterol pill at night. The blood pressure tablets comes in blister strips, marked with the days of the week especially for the old folk, geriatrics and jurrasics. It is a known and scientific fact that white Afrikaners have a genetic predisposition towards having high cholesterol. One of our Dutch or French ancestors really did not do us a favour by passing it on. My doctor told me that if you have the genetic high cholesterol, you can only lower it marginally by means of diet. You have to take the meds. Bummer.

Lazy

How lazy can you get? I read someone’s blog who is married to someone with ADD. I commented on her blog, and now I copied, pasted and slightly modified my comment as the following post. Lamb and I had a big argument last week. Last night she asked me what the matter is, she senses that something is wrong. I just couldn’t tell her… I couldn’t tell her it is because last week during the argument she told me that I attach too much value to having ADD. She said that at times I carry it like a trophy and she gets the idea that I am proud having ADD. She also said that at times, I use it as an excuse for things going wrong in my life. I really feel that she does not recognize the influence having ADD has on my life. I try to get her to read info on ADD, but she’s not really interested. She told me to stop thinking about ADD, stop reading on the net about ADD and that ADD does not define me. I may be irrational, but I feel this comment just proves how little she understands. Of course ADD does not define me. What defines me? Lots and lots of things of which ADD is only one. When I tell her that, she thinks that I am fooling myself. I feel that she “gets” all the other stuff which is part of my makeup, but the ADD thing – no. I understand that it is hard to understand. Trying to look at it from a detached point of view, I understand her feeling hurt because I refuse to wear the shirt she bought me. She spent a lot of time looking for the shirt, thinking it would look nice on me, she got very excited at the prospect of giving it to me. She got very disappointed and angry at my refusal to even fit the shirt. How can I put something on which I cannot even bear touching with my fingertips. Trying to please her I put it on when we go out. Disaster – I cannot wait to get home to take it off. I am unpleasant and cannot participate in conversation because my shirt is freaking me out totally. Packing. My wife and I are opposite stereotypes. She packs like the stereotypical man, whereas I need to take everything I own along. I am an in-case packer. What gets Lamb, is that I put everything I want to take along on the bed in the guest room with two large suitcases, and then she has to get everything in somehow. If I am left packing I throw everything in and when I run out of space I round up all our canvass sports bags and shove the rest into that. (Backpacking with Friends through Scotland, they all had a very easy ride with their single backpacks each. On top of the backpack on my back, I had to haul a large suitcase and canvass bag all over the Highlands.) It has to do with the fact that I cannot decide today what I am going to wear for the rest of the week. I need choice every morning. I need several choices of something formal, something casual, something warm, something cool etc to wear when I go away. And I have something about underpants and socks. I pack double what I need. It is also not that I am that concerned about my appearance, but my decision on what I am going to wear is heavily influenced by what I feel like wearing at that specific moment.

Another Advantage of ADD

One of the major advantages of ADD is that my short attention span does not allow me to be depressed for to long. Very soon something will come along which distracts me from feeling miserable. And I am not talking of major things like being excited about a new job etc. I can be down in the dumps driving along in my car, and suddenly I’ll spot my favourite Middle Eastern fast food outlet, swing the car into the car park, ignoring astounded hooting, order a schwarma and I will be as right as rain, unable to remember what I was depressed about.