As promised, a poem

This was written by a woman I met...Gloria Franklin. She's absolutely the most delightful, witty person. While I am grateful to her for sharing these sort of emotions through her poetry...it terrifies me that my son might ever feel this way. I want to protect him, although I know it isn't realistic to believe that I can do that. She included a footnote with this: Frank Netter--prodigious illustrator of anatomy.

Making a reservation for the ER, Veteran's Day--1975

Rain drenched I open my arm
baring like Netter the
treasures of my flesh.
Red, white and blue threads,
the longitudes of life severed
and gaping pour my divine spirit,
pungent as calves liver,
on the ground.
I share with heroes the task
of renurtuing, my blood/mud
rich and shiny. We wait
in our trenches,
on our raincoats,
eyewitnesses,
and do nothing.

The trickling stops!
Gash again.
Nothing.
Then resurrect. Take your
Burberry to the Whirlpool
Study the orange bubbles.
Now call your devoted husband.

Plug him into the shocking news.
He'll come for you and care for you.
He'll mop the floor
and telephone for help
--your psychiatrist.
Dr. Rosenthal's angry.
But then I never understood
transference.

Alert Sinai!
Push aside the dying!
Prepare to sew!
Not a surgeon, but OZ!
The Wizard of Oz to scrub!
QUICKLY!
The straw is coming out
Of another
Scarecrow.

Back to school/back to square one

Squirrel's psychiatrist and I sat down and reviewed what we have been doing. The camp experience didn't really prove particularly helpful, and the meds Squirrel has been getting don't help him the way we would like.

So here's our question: if rigorous behavior modification techniques aren't working, and meds aren't working...is this actually ADHD?

On the second day of school, on 15mg of Adderall XR, Squirrel was sent home for being disruptive (jumping around clowning, playing with the blinds...etc. etc. etc...making banging noises).

His psychiatrist suggested, perhaps, that we are looking at Childhood Bipolar. I didn't much like the sound of this, but when I read the description...it fit. Very well. I described that to Squirrel's dad, using the term, "Mood disorder", and he agreed that it sounded familiar.

I'm not to keen on the treatments for this...but I'm not too keen on Squirrel's inability to function these days, or his frustration.

I'll post back...I'm kind of sad about this. I had hoped it would be just so easy to treat my little guy...he'd get some meds and some therapy, and it would be just like in his book, "Taking ADHD to School" where the meds & therapy changed everything and made life perfect.

But...nothing is easy, right? Aurgh...I've always told everyone that Squirrel is so simple...he only has ADHD...no learning disability, no language processing issues, no sensory issues and no anxiety. Joke's on me, no?

Oh, well. Whatever his problems are, I just want them to be treated as well as possible. I don't care what diagnosis he has, as long as we can relieve his frustrations.

Childhood Bipolar is a controversial diagnosis...but I understand that it doesn't necessarily turn into adult bipolar. And even if it does...one of the loveliest people I've ever met has lived with Bopolar Disorder for 70 years, so it's not a death sentence or anything. I'll post a poem she wrote tomorrow (or when I remember...which may not be then).

OK...hope everyone else is having a much better back-to-school time than I am...