Jason Gross
Mrs. Malone
English 10H, 8-9 Even
24 November 2006
The Most Important Event in a Person’s Life

Ask a person what he or she considers to be the most important event in his or her life.  Parents would most likely say that the most important event in their lives was the birth of their child or children.  Married couples without children would most likely respond that the most important event was their marriage.  Among unmarried adults and children, the results would vary widely.  Some might say that winning a contest or performing well in a sport was most important.  Others might say that getting into their choice of college was the most important.  Few, however, would say that being diagnosed with a disease or disorder was the most important event in their lives.  This was my answer when my ninth grade social studies teacher posed this question to my class.  I responded that the most significant event in my life was when I was diagnosed with and prescribed medication for AD/HD during the summer before kindergarten.

AD/HD is an acronym for attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and has three subcategories—AD/HD - predominantly inattentive type, which used to be called ADD (attention-deficit disorder), AD/HD - predominantly hyperactive/impulsive type, and AD/HD - combined type.  According to the National Resource Center on AD/HD (http://www.help4adhd.org/en/treatment/guides/dsm), “To be diagnosed with AD/HD, individuals must have six of the nine characteristics in either or both … categories … In children and teenagers, the symptoms must be more frequent … compared to other children … In adults, the symptoms must affect the ability to function in daily life and persist from childhood.  In addition, the behaviors must create significant difficulty in at least two areas of life … Symptoms must be present for at least six months.”  A person with AD/HD, the predominantly inattentive type, “fails to give close attention to details or makes careless mistakes, has difficulty sustaining attention, does not appear to listen, struggles to follow through on instructions, has difficulty with organization, avoids or dislikes tasks requiring sustained mental effort, loses things, is easily distracted, [and] is forgetful in daily activities.”  A person with AD/HD, the predominantly hyperactive/impulsive type, “fidgets with [his or her] hands or feet or squirms in [his or her] chair, has difficulty remaining seated, runs about or climbs excessively, [has] difficulty engaging in activities quietly, acts as if driven by a motor, talks excessively, blurts out answers before questions have been completed, [has] difficulty waiting or taking turns, [and] interrupts or intrudes upon others.”  The combination of impulsivity with hyperactivity can cause disruptive behavior, as well as problems with authority.  AD/HD, the combined type, is characterized by symptoms of both the inattentive and hyperactive/impulsive types.

I have AD/HD, the predominantly hyperactive/impulsive type.  I have always had boundless energy.  Once, when I was a toddler, I was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office with a fever of 102-103°F, and even with the fever, I could not keep still.  My mom later described my movements as “flying” from chair to chair.  I displayed many other symptoms of AD/HD as well.  I could never tolerate being bored; I always had to find something to do.  It didn’t matter to me what the activity was, as long as I was interested in it.  It is a common misconception that children with AD/HD have trouble focusing on anything.  The truth is, at least for me, that I could focus for any length of time on anything that I found interesting and engaging.  For example, when I colored in coloring books, I thought that the coloring book was supposed to be an accurate representation of the story, and so should be in order and accurately colored.  Because most coloring books about movies do not maintain the order of the movie they portray, I would cut all the pages out, turn on the video of the movie, and pause at every scene so I could color the picture accurately and place the pages in order.
If I lacked activities to do, which occurred often, especially while waiting, I would occupy myself with mental activities, such as counting tiles on the floor, leaves on a plant, or bricks in a wall.  If I were not completely occupied, I would be unable to sit still.  When I used to dictate stories for my mom to write down, I would often be jumping on the trampoline to occupy myself; merely dictating a story was not engaging enough, even though I enjoyed doing it.  When my mom would read to me before I went to sleep, my feet would “climb up the walls” because I could not lie still and only listen.  Very often, when my mom picked me up from nursery school, I was not content simply to walk through the halls like most other kids my age.  I wanted to imitate Simba, from Lion King; I ran through the halls like a lion, on all fours.

When I was young, I would talk nonstop.  I would start almost every sentence with “Did you know that …,” and then proceed to give a detailed scientific explanation for the topic, which ranged from the solar system to molecules, from the migration habits of salmon to global warming.  Because I was too young to stay home alone, my mom had to take me with her when she went shopping.  Since she wanted to be able to shop effectively, which she couldn’t do if I requested constant feedback on what I was saying, she had me bring along a tape recorder so I could record everything I wanted to tell her; she would be able to listen later, when she was not concentrating on shopping.  Every time we went shopping, I would make a tape of “Everything Jason Knows.”  I would categorize facts into groups, such as “Everything Jason Knows about Dinosaurs,” or “Everything Jason Knows about Digestion.”  Many of the facts I recorded I had learned from The Magic School Bus.

I was also impulsive from a very early age; I would often “leap before I looked.”  I would do things without thinking about the consequences.  When I realized I had done something wrong, I would say I was sorry, but soon after, I would do it again.  When my parents asked me why I kept doing things that were wrong if I were truly sorry for doing them, I described “impulsivity,” even though I had never heard the term.  I said, “My brain sends a message to my body to do something, and I’m not even aware that my brain is sending the message until after my body has already done it, and then it’s too late not to do it because it was already done.”
I was diagnosed with AD/HD in the summer before kindergarten, and prescribed Ritalin, and later Concerta, for the disorder.  In my response to the question posed to my class, I stated that without medication, I would not have been able to learn all that I have learned nor would I have been able to achieve all that I have achieved, and I most likely would have spent most of my life in “time-out” or the principal’s office.  Before taking medication, I would get into trouble often.  One day during preschool camp, the director called my mom to tell her I had bitten a counselor.  I told her that it was an “accident.”  She corrected me, saying that it couldn’t have been an accident; it was a “mistake.”  I insisted that it was an accident.  She asked, “How can you ‘accidentally’ bite somebody.”  I explained that I was swinging my towel and the counselor told me not to do it three times, and threatened to take it away if I didn’t stop.  I didn’t stop, and when the counselor tried to take it away, I didn’t think I would be able to hold onto it with my hands, so I tried to hold onto it with my teeth.  When I tried to grab the towel with my teeth, the counselor’s finger happened to be there, and that was how I accidentally bit the counselor.  That day, as with every other day, had starting with me saying, “I’m going to be cooperative.  I’m going to be a good listener.”

Soon after I began taking Ritalin, which went along with programs to modify my behavior, such as rewards for good behavior, my mom commented to me that it was nice that we were having fewer arguments.  I told her that it was “the pill,” and not the “behavior charts,” that allowed this.  I explained that when I’m off medication, my brain tells my body to do the right thing in a whisper.  If there are any distractions, or anything I would rather be doing, the messages to do those things are louder, and so I don’t hear my brain telling me to do the right thing.  I said that the medication makes my brain shout the message, and so can I hear it.

Taking medication has allowed me to accomplish many achievements.  I won the Science Fair in third and fourth grades, won gold metals in Math Fair in seventh, eighth, and ninth grades, and consistently achieve grades in the high nineties in all honors classes in school.  I was also able to concentrate sufficiently to build twelve model synagogues as centerpieces for my Bar Mitzvah celebration, which were later displayed in museums in New York City and Miami.  Without medication, I would most likely have spent a large portion of my life in time-out and would have been unable to accomplish all that I have achieved.  That is why being diagnosed with and prescribed medication for AD/HD was the most important event in my life.