Out of Focus

Out

I walked out of the courtroom and down the stairs. My lawyer was still trying to talk to me about the plans for how to do what the judge had just ordered. In a way, it was a relief. In another, this was only one more piece in a betrayal that was years in the making. It had seemed like a made up thing. I still couldn't believe it. Things hadn't gotten better. Was it the toxemia? Was it the anesthesia? Was it really just his way of getting a son in a manner that his family would approve of? I might never know.

The focus had not gotten better, even though my blood pressure numbers had gone down into the normal range quickly after surgery and recovery. After six months of deteriorating concentration, he had finally been supportive enough to watch the kids while I made doctors appointments to see what was wrong. Doctors eventually diagnosed me with adult ADHD.

That was a relief.

And it wasn't.

Even with insurance, the price for the Adderall XR every month was a strain that he quite vocally couldn't bear. Not for a as-he-called-it made-up illness. He'd often yelled at me, "You're not sick! You're being lazy, and I hate what you've become!"

Newsflash. I wasn't thrilled with my new existence, either.

He would ask me how many days every week I could maybe not take the medicine. It had begun to wear on me during the first month. He'd ask me the price per pill, and I'd hear him across the room, muttering the price under his breath as I struggled to focus in the morning to open the pill bottle and make sure I ate some breakfast. If I didn't, the Adderall would make me forget to eat until I got off of work. If I waited that long, I'd feel like crap.

It was helping with my productivity at work. I could read again. I could think without so much struggle. That felt good, but it didn't take long before I wasn't sleeping. My brain needed the drug to get going in the morning, but then, it wouldn't quit at night. Fabulous. I had to go back to the doctor for dosage adjustments before he finally admitted that he'd just have to put me on a sleeping pill, too.

How long would I be tethered to these pills, I wondered. I didn't have an answer, and the doctors didn't have one for me, either.