ADD is a real bitch.

March 7, 2005 - 6:58 PM by

I’m sure I’ve had it all my life, the ADD. My senior year at Clark University I met with a psychiatrist to be tested. I never finished the test and just stopped going to sessions, no joke. Following my decision to reenter academia – for a master’s degree at Ben-Gurion University – I decided to pick up where my attention had faltered five years prior.

History always teaches its lessons through hindsight and repetition; she is a bitch that way.

Appealing to my HMO, as represented by my family practitioner in Tel Aviv, I was referred to a neuropsychiatrist. At this meeting I was informed that testing was not necessary, for my desire to return to school was proof enough that I was ADD free. Unfortunately, the visit was not.

The twelve-shekel co-pay disproportionately mocked my very existence.

Upon uttering a creative, though desperate, string of curses I gave up, ascribed another let down to being a stranger in a strange land and headed south for the grey, dusty expanse – academic enlightenment aside – that is Beer Sheva.

Deep into my first semester, with the novelty of a new environment waning fast, I knew I needed help, but where to turn? I thought, maybe, the university hospital, Soroka, could shed some light on my path towards medication. It could not.

I resigned to try the HMO once more, hoping that a new district could offer new solutions. It could, though Israeli style (read: half-assed). I was referred to a private neurological clinic that specializes in ADD diagnosis, albeit for children and youth.

After the initial consultation, which involved the ceremonial filling out of forms and a computer game, I returned for a second visit to meet the doctor himself. Amongst myriad symptoms, the good doctor was most impressed by my standing-up and wandering around his office while he took a phone call. From that moment forward I would have full access to Ritalin SR.

Once again Israeli style prevailed (this time read: this is your problem, here’s your medication, therapy’s a waste of time, join the army). It is standard practice here to medicate as solution. This is made worse by a poor pharmacology infrastructure – meaning patients are often given the incorrect drug at improper dosages. In defense of the clinic, I was told to call for a follow-up half a year later, but that’s sort of like telling a crack addict to quit cold turkey, it’s not happening. Mmmm…turkey!

So, it’s a year on. It turns out, with no great surprise, that my Ritalin prescription was for an ineffective dosage. With my last paper before starting my MA thesis already two weeks overdue and my thesis looming, I finally scheduled my follow-up at the clinic for the end of this month. I even have an initial appointment with a therapist for tomorrow morning, to boot. I might get that paper done and become a productive member of society after all!

Oh, and I really like some Israeli music, like Idan Raichel (read: first album more than the second), HaDag Nachash – who get better with each album and, of course, Ivri Leader, who’s better than Jesus.

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