The hard part was supposed to be putting my younger daughter on medication in the first place.
Although my husband, my stepson, my late mother, my ex-husband, and most of my closest friends all have ADHD – and benefit greatly from medication – I still agonized over what to do when Georgia was diagnosed (completely unsurprisingly) with ADHD.
It absolutely shattered my heart into a non-literal million pieces on the floor when she went from getting glowing reviews in pre-K4, where kids just have to be friendly and share and effectively use the bathroom (all things she excels at), to going rapidly downhill in kindergarten, when you have to sit on your square at carpet time and try to perform basic phonics and math. By first grade, we were epically failing at behavior intervention charts – she desperately wanted all smiley faces and yet kept getting frowny ones – and had started exploring pharmaceutical options, even though I privately hated the idea because I didn’t want to “medicate her.” She was so tiny that we started on a non-stimulant … and within three weeks, she told me triumphantly, “Mommy, I’m smart again!”
That statement alone was enough to overcome whatever lingering hesitation I had about prescription inventions, and by the time she was in second grade, she was taking a low dose of Adderall every morning and again at lunch. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped.
Then the pandemic hit, and I tried to home-school her, which only hammered home how challenging it is to get her to stay on task when her fascinating mind is spinning off in space and in a thousand different directions – all interesting, but none related to basic phonics and math.
We had her evaluated again – and yet again – and it all kept coming back to the same conclusion: smart, funny, friendly … but with a “constellation of challenges” (a phrase from one report that still haunts me) that revolved around her inability to focus, concentrate, sit on her carpet square, and do basic phonics and math (or any other academic exercises).
After a lot of trial and error and numerous pandemic delays, we landed on a medication that finally seemed to help without a crushing list of attendant effects.
And then it was out of stock nationally.
So we switched.
That lasted a few months. It wasn’t as good, but it was better than nothing.
And then it was out of stock nationally.
So we switched.
That lasted a few months. It wasn’t as good, but it was better than nothing.
And then it was out of stock nationally.
So we switched.
Now, today, after taking off work early, driving across town to her pediatrician, getting her latest prescription, and trying two different pharmacies in person and calling four more, for a total of three hours of my life, just today … it’s out of stock nationally.
She has two quizzes tomorrow and then volleyball practice. She will struggle all day. And I? Will take off work early again and drive across town again and hopefully find some kind of medicine that is in stock somewhere (most pharmacies can’t verify their stock over the phone for security reasons; they can only tell you if they don’t have something).
I know medicating her is the right choice for her, no different than giving insulin to a diabetic child or an inhaled corticosteroid to a child with asthma, so I’m not asking for judgment. (Judge away; just keep it to yourself.)
But if you have any advice? Please drop me a message at evekiddcrawford@gmail.com.
