They told us that undiagnosed ADHD was common among medical students, and that if any of us started having academic problems, we should talk to someone right away. I dismissed it, as I jiggled my foot and twirled my hair around my finger again and again.
At best, I was ambivalent about the profession I was entering. I had started college as a pre-med and dropped that major after a year. Then I bounced around from major to major, eventually attaining degrees in anthropology and biology. At the end of my fourth year, I still didn’t know what to do, so I applied to medical school after all. I’d let the admissions committee decide for me, I thought. They said yes.
My life as a medical student was a roller coaster. I skipped classes and put off studying. I read novels. I watched TV with my husband. But at other times I was consumed by exams. I made plans and study schedules that always fell short. Once an academic crisis was over, I’d forget my despair and self-doubt and go back to my novels.
Then, during second semester, I failed a class. I had never failed anything before in my life. I was devastated and terrified. I knew there was no way I could handle repeating that year. Luckily, the professor gave me a second chance: a comprehensive exam over summer break.
Finally, at the prompting of my husband, several friends, and a professor who had ADHD, I made an appointment with a psychiatrist. As I sat fidgeting in the doctor’s comfy chair, he told me I was a classic case and prescribed medicine.
My mind cleared. I could suddenly bring my thoughts to light without losing them. Before, it was as if I couldn’t see my own mind. I could sense it, brush it with my fingertips, but I couldn’t grasp it. My thoughts were at the bottom of a pool, at the end of a dim tunnel.
I felt as if I were seeing everything for the first time. It was October and I marveled at the oranges, reds, and browns of the trees. I remember driving around with tears in my eyes. I had always loved fall, but I realized that I had never really experienced it.
In the end, I knew with certainty that medical school was a mistake. That spring, I discovered I was pregnant. My husband and I were ecstatic. I went off my medicine and somehow managed to pass all my classes and the step-one boards.
My son was born the next October. I went back to school two months after he was born. After a week, I knew I had to quit. I didn’t want a profession that might require me to put my family second. I finished out the month and withdrew.
Now, I spend my days playing with my son and writing. I still struggle with ADHD, but it’s a different kind of struggle. I’m learning to work with my strengths and weaknesses instead of against them. And I’m no longer trying to make myself into something I’m not.







