Mourning the undiagnosed | ADHD Information

Disclaimer:  If you are having a bad day or are depressed, skip this post - I am in a major funk.

Next week would have been my dad's 60th birthday.  I have been thinking of him a lot and I wanted to share.  

He had a masters degree in music - piano.  He was about to start a career as a solo pianist when he had to join the navy during Vietnam, it was better than being drafted.  During that time, he married my mother.  When he returned to the U.S., he was out of practice - that isn't the kind of skill you can get back without spending 10 hours a day at the piano.  That loss hit him hard, he rarely played the piano, but told lots of stories of his college days.  He had the typical ADD job hopping for a long time, but always managed to take care of his family.  He eventually got certified to teach math and computer science.  He taught at every school I attended from the fourth grade all the way through high school. 

He was at best an inattentive parent.  I got away with murder at home, but never got away with ANYTHING in school.  He knew before I did what my test grades were, and had high expectations of my school work.  Once, I made an 89 in science.  He called me 89 instead using my name until the next report card.  Needless to say, I didn't forget my science homework after that!  If I really did something that worried him, I got lecturing and grounding.  I never did get much out of either one, but I did understand that he did it because he cared about me.  The one thing I am absolutely positive about in this world is that cared about me, more than anyone else in my life.  He understood me when no one else did.  He was generally really funny and found some way to tease me into doing better.  After I left home, he never once pointed his finger at me through my many failures, and helped me over the rough spots in my life without blame or judgment parents sometimes call advice.   

After he died, my uncle told all the stories we had never heard while my dad was alive.  This particular story, I want to share here. 

Both my dad and his brother grew up with ADHD, but back then nobody called it that and there was no diagnosis or treatment for it.  They were just the way they were.  Whenever my dad's family had company coming over, he would get so wound up that he would make himself sick.  My grandmother (also ADHD) would give my dad small amounts of booze to calm him down. (or this other stomach stuff that turned out to be an over the counter narcotic) 

Why don't families tell these stories until someone dies?

As an adult and a parent, my dad was still nervous around a lot of people and was described as "high strung."  He had started drinking as a teenager, and quickly became an alcoholic.  He had no idea why he was the way he was, and drinking was the only way he could cope with his ADHD symptoms.  My sister and I had no idea what was going on either.  We only knew that it was in our best interests to stay out of dad's way after work, until he had started on his second glass of vodka.  He drank a gallon of it every day of my life, but never acted drunk.  

One day, my grandmother called my sister and told her to go check on my dad.  He had missed his Saturday call to her.  My sister went by my dad's house, and all I know is, she called me really angry and crying.  "Did you know dad was sick?!"  "No!"  I had no idea dad was sick.  He was really sick and hadn't told us anything.

For some reason my sister tried to "prepare" me before I went over there myself.  I thought I was prepared, but nothing could prepare me this.  He had end stage liver disease -- the years of drinking caught up with him.  He was yellow with jaundice, even his eyes were yellow.  His cheeks were sunken in, he was really thin, except for his stomach which was filled with fluid and made him look 20 months pregnant.  His speech was really slurred due to the ammonia levels in his blood.  He was confused and delusional.  He kept talking about going back to work soon. 

He had tried to hide his illness from us, and succeeded for years.  He had developed diabetes, cataracts, and lost the feeling in his feet.  He had been hospitalized twice for bleeding ulcers and severe anemia.  He didn't want us to worry about him (and I think he was ashamed of what he had done to himself).  My dad was nothing if not stubborn.  Well ok, funny and stubborn. 

He had stopped drinking and was getting the best treatment possible.  The jaundice went away for the most part, and his speech and mental functioning came and went depending on the day.  He slowly got worse, the only cure for cirrhosis is a liver transplant.  One day, after "Jeopardy" - don't ask me why he liked that show - I sat him down for a talk.  I knew he was probably going to die, and I had something to say:

"Dad, I am not mad at you that you did this to yourself.  I mean, I smoke and I will probably die of emphysema one day.  Who am I to talk?  But I did want you to know,  I know you always did your best for me and you never hurt me on purpose.  I can't say that about many people in my life, and I am really glad you are my dad."  (I carefully excluded the "L" word.)

He looked really surprised and smiled and started to say something that people say when feeling awkward.  But then "Star Trek" came on and saved us. 

He went into the hospital a few months later.  He had all sorts of really funny and often tasteless jokes - every doctor and nurse and orderly came out of his room laughing.  Then we found out that he would have to stay in the hospital until a liver could be found.  (The list for a liver transplant is a false hope for all but a lucky few.)  I think he knew what staying in the hospital really meant, because he stopped eating and died a couple days later. 

I wanted to tell his story because I need to, and because I hope that someone, somewhere does not have to tell this kind of story about their own loved ones.  I read people's medical records all day at work.  It affects me deeply when I see this same story repeated over and over.  Men and women who mostly did poorly in school, had a million and one jobs, divorces, kids diagnosed with ADHD.  They apply for disability because they have liver disease or brain damage from drug abuse or got mangled due to risky behaviors, but really what happened to many of them is ADHD.  Unrecognized, undiagnosed, untreated ADHD.

We talk a lot on the boards about disclosure of our ADHD and the attitudes of our coworkers, or random strangers, or trolls.  But this story is the main reason that I am open about my diagnosis.  I have been really surprised what other people disclose to me in return.  I had no idea there were so many people with anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, ADHD, you-name-it-invisible disorders.  My blatant case of TMI lets me help people who might not have ever put two and two together if I hadn't said something. 

Thank you Reisa, for sharing with us.

Your DadD would have been proud of you.

His ability in coping with his undiagnosed challenge in our day and age is a success story, although with a difficult ending. He provided for his family, and raised some good kids. He succeeded with the tools he had. You will do the same.

Chin up, Sis. We're in this together.

We "L" word you,

Davido, and the Gang Thank you for sharing you story. What a wonderful person. In reading it I was repeatedly reminded of my deceased father. He was like your dad in many ways, in interests and attitude, except he finally stopped drinking at about age 75. He also self medicated with coffee all day.

Your message is one to share.Thanks for sharing, Reisa.  I'm so glad you had the opportunity to tell you dad what you did.  I'm sure that gave him a bit of peace knowing that. 

 

Thanks for sharing Reisa. 

Reisa,



and also,



for getting to tell your Dad how you feel about him. It probably meant more to him than you will ever know.

that's a moving tribute reisa.

your story is similar to mine. though mine is

not as uplifting.

my dad died 5 yrs. ago from heart failure caused primarily by alcohol abuse, as well as other drugs.

b/c of his drinking, our family fell apart. he worked for the same company for over 30 yrs. he did provide for us, but was never close to my brothers and me.

in looking at my past with the lens of adhd, i believe my dad was adhd.

i now believe he became alcoholic as a way of coping with what he didn't understand about himself. i also believe that succeeding at work, coupled with the drinking, pretty much took all he had, leaving him unable to be all he could at home.

for him, home became a place to recover from the tribulations of coping in the world, as well as a place to recover, so he could do it all over again the next week. it was not a place to be there for his family.

for years i was angry with him. i blamed him for the pain he caused my family, for the pain he caused me. i blamed his disease of alcoholism for all the crap i was struggling with. after all, it seemed as if he gave me the blueprint for my low self-esteem. not only the self-loathing, but plenty of internal dialogue to perpetuate it.

so, fast forward to today. while i remain aware of the truly negative aspects the alcoholism thrust upon us, i have little in the way of blame and resentment for my dad.

i'm struggling with the same things he struggled with.

i never used alcohol to cope, but i also have never been able to keep a job, let alone corporate management, for more than a couple of years. i have not been able to finish a bachelor degree, let alone get a bachelor and masters while providing for a family.

in fact, on many levels, i have not been as successful as my dad. even though i've had many of the same issues.

what i'm getting at, i suppose, is that it is sad how much pain and strife could be avoided or relieved if people got their problems addressed earlier in life.

i know that who i am now is a result of all i have been through.that there is plenty to be proud of in what i am now.

i also accept the idea that pain, strife, and tragedy have the power to make us better people.

however, i also mourn the fact that things weren't different for me and millions of others.

imagine- if my dad had been able to be treated for the adhd, and depression. he would have led a happier life. he would have been able to excel more at work. he would have been a more positive influence, a brighter light to those in his sphere. me and my family would have been spared so much pain.

i, in turn, would have gotten help earlier. i would have spent more days loving life, and fewer trying to avoid or endure the pain of my existence. i would have been a brighter light to those in my sphere. my children would have reaped the benefits of all this. they would be more equipped to cope with themselves, and the demands of modern life.

life offers enough pain and challenges. in a modern, demanding society like ours, adhd is one of them.

maybe by being open, which is not the same as being a victim, we can help prevent excess pain and suffering in this world.

I can't tell you how supported I feel, reading your posts.  I am so glad to be able to come to this board and be accepted for who I truly am, without putting a "face" on.  Thank you so much!

Reisa, I just turned 60 so was a peer of your Dad. I also lost one of my best friends who was a year younger than me (she'd turn 59 this month) from alcoholism in Dec. 2001. My father, who missed out on the alcoholism gene but whom I'm certain was ADD (and undiagnosed) passed away in '99. He'd just turned 86 and was ready to leave. (I miss him but am now at peace with his passing. It just takes time.)

I inherited about 90% of my genes from my Father. Keep in mind that I was only diagnosed (and unofficially at that, by an LCSW) this past summer so am only starting to get help for it now. And I can't take any meds for it because of heart damage from my chemo.

My Mother who's an RN (but graduated in '42) knows little to nothing about AD(H)D, nor does she want to. I think she's too attached to constantly castigating me for my ADD-related behavior. (She doesn't question the parenting behavior she's adopted from her parents--the same ones that screwed her up!)

Last night I had an overwhelming sense that my little dog, Annie, the light of my life who passed away last June from metastatic breast cancer was here with me. (So odd we both had breast cancer, but thankfully, mine hasn't metasticized.) I cried and cried and cried. I miss her so very much, even though I could almost see her, her spiritual presence was so strong. I wanted her little body with me as well as her spirit--to pet her and laugh at her antics. I wanted it so badly and it hurt that I couldn't have it and had to settle for the feeling of her.

I share this with you to let you know that I empathize with your feelings. I look at all the pain my Father and I suffered because of ignorance on our part as well as those to whom we trusted our health (including my Mother). My Father was also extremely irreverant, diabolically funny, and he and I shared an unspoken bond.

It hurts to miss loved ones so much. And it hurts to know that pain they suffered could have been prevented. But things happen as they do. All we can do is to experience the feelings and use them to try and make it better for others--in honor to the legacy of those we love who've moved on. And to that end...

TO THOSE WITH FEMALE DOGS:

Get her spayed as young as possible and before her first heat. A female dog who is spayed BEFORE her first heat has a 95% chance of NEVER getting breast cancer! (God, how I wish I'd known that before it was too late!)

sachetm38753.3710185185Reisa, I have no words but my heart goes out to you. I'd like to think your Dad is sitting up there with a smile on his lips and nodding his head with the look in his eye that only a Daddy gives his children when they need it most.