You know what’s really awesome? Losing your shit with your eight year old son before 8:30 am. Losing it so badly that he’s in hysterics and you are sobbing like an overwrought soap star. Losing it so badly that many loud and profane words are said after he leaves for school and you notice the ear filter for his CAPD sitting on your effing desk, where you’d remember to hand it to him in the morning, forgot because of the drama, and then get a phone call from the school that he needs it and crap, it’ll just have to bloody well wait.
There’s a special place in hell for pharmaceutical companies that manufacture ADHD medications that are available only in pill form. Medications for kids that already have an extremely difficult time focusing, for kids that likely have sensory issues that make swallowing a pill an exercise in futility. We put a man on the moon with a slide rule and less computing power than my iPhone, and you’re telling me you can’t come up with a way for these medications to be available in an easier to swallow form? Bullshit!
We’re into week 2 of A’s introduction to Intuniv, and it seems to be working. So far the only side effect has been fatigue, but that’s tolerable as it only hits in the evening and the end of daylight savings has screwed up everyone’s sleep patterns. The most improvement is supposed to come in weeks 2 and 3, and boy howdy, I’d sure like to see it! I know this will be a good fit for him, if we could just get past the issue of taking the damned pill! Last week, once he mastered taking the 1mg dose (smaller than a mini M&M), we were golden. Then came Saturday and the dose increased to 2mg. With a larger pill size (about the size of a Tic-Tac). Oh my hell. Two hours of torture on Saturday, THREE hours of misery on Sunday, and my losemyshitapalooza this morning. And it gets better. Next week he increases to 3mg, which (for the intro pack from the doctor) is two pills, a 1mg and a 2mg. I’m nearly hysterical even thinking about it.
This morning as he walked out the door (after an hour of trying), he chewed it and freaked the hell out (oh my god I chewed it I’m going to get sick I’m going to die please call the doctor I don’t want to get sick). So now I get to call the doctor and find out how bad it is that he did that. From what I can tell from the literature, it just means the extended release medication will be released too quickly into his bloodstream.
This is all getting tiresome, as you might imagine. Eight years. Eight years of fighting for him, helping him, trying to find the answers to help him, experts and doctors and meetings and consultations and medications and seminars and parenting classes and books and websites and…and I feel we’re getting nowhere. When does he improve? When are we no longer fighting his ADHD, his digestion, his sensory issues…when does he get to use and appreciate how gifted he is? When does he no longer have to fight against what holds him back and just soar?
When does it get easier?
I know parenting isn’t easy, I get that. I expected that. But this… And I know how well we have it, too! My kid isn’t disabled, he’s healthy, he’s happy, he’s awesome. We can (for the most part) afford the treatments he needs. But everything, and I mean everything, is a struggle for him. And that saddens me, because I feel I’ve failed him. I’ve failed in finding the “magic bullet” that would help him. I’m envious of other parents whose kids have improved, and feel guilty that I feel that way. I still feel there’s an answer out there for him, I’m just tired of searching for it.
I need to get his ear filter to him. Ten bucks says his first response isn’t “thanks mom!” but “it’s about time!” Sigh.