UK Update 10/10

This is not a drill! I met Pebbles!

• Alright! I’m going to talk about the fun stuff before I talk about the heavy stuff. 
• I started classes this week!  I was incredibly nervous, mostly because I imagined my professors would be something like JK Simmons’s character from Whiplash or Joel McHale’s character from The Bear, but they’re more like Mr. Feeny from Boy Meets World or that one episode of Doctor Who where 10 pretends to be a teacher.  “Right, physics! Physics, eh? Physics, physics, physics, physics, physics, physics.  Hope you're getting this all down.”
• It’s quite beautiful to see how much I’ve grown as a person because I can clearly remember how I was back in high school (and some college classes, too): the shy girl in the corner who didn’t know anyone and didn’t want to be called on.  I was incredibly self-conscious in basically every setting that wasn’t Drama Club, but now I’m sitting towards the front, making jokes (whether anyone laughs at them is another story), eager to learn people’s names, and even have to remind myself to let others talk so I don’t dominate the discussion.  One would hope that they grow more confident since high school, but truthfully some people don’t.  I haven’t been in a classroom setting in a very long time and there was a lingering fear that I’d just retreat inside myself, but I’m happy to report that hasn’t been the case.
• There was a fun little moment in my Creative Writing Workshop class where the professor brought up Iowa and tentatively said that it was located in the southwestern part of the United States.  She locked eyes with me (being the only American in the class) and raised her eyebrows, as if looking for verification.  I corrected her and said it was in the midwest, and everyone chuckled.  I enjoy the image of Des Moines in the middle of the Nevada desert.  
• I’m especially excited about my Screenwriting class because I have so little experience in that field.  My professor worked in post production on The Phantom Menace and we enjoyed listening to him talk about the juxtaposition of being really excited about the prospect of a film only to finally watch it and realize that it’s garbage.  
• I had a great phone conversation with Melody the other day where we compared class stories, and I was struck by how busy she is.  The acting students over at East 15 are basically working a full-time job (8ish hours, five days a week).  Compare that to me with one class on Monday, a full day of classes on Tuesday, and then dissertation prep on Wednesday.  And that’s it!  I reached out to my adviser, just to verify that I was, in fact, taking enough classes.  He told me that I’m actually taking too many classes this semester and should have saved one of them for the spring.  But as of right now, I’m feeling fine and keeping everything as it is.  
• Along with classes, I’ve been busy trying to find a job and have sent out a number of applications.  Somewhere along the line, I stumbled onto the BBC website and found a section called BBC Upload where artists can share a sample of something they’ve created with the hope of it getting shared on the local channels.  Not knowing what to send in, I chose just to plug the upcoming production of The Cafe Mocha Murders and uploaded a sample of the script, plus information about The Network Theatre.  On Monday, I got an email from the head of BBC Upload, Rob, wondering if I’d be interested in chatting with him about the show and my creative process.  “Uh, heck yeah!  Sign me up!”  
• So yesterday around 2:30 I had a virtual interview with Rob and I had such a fun time!  Rob is a huge supporter of the arts and an even bigger advocate for people to get involved in whatever capacity they can.  The interview should drop within the next two weeks or so.  I’ll keep you all posted when it does.  
• Speaking of Melody and Doctor Who, we’re going to see David Tennant in Macbeth tomorrow!  (insert freak out here) Fourth row.  I hope there’s fake blood.  I hope we’re in the splash zone.  I hope he knows how much we love him.  Please adopt me.  I know you and Georgia already have so many kids, but you could definitely use another one.  And it’s me.  Braid my hair, make me a grilled cheese sandwich, and tell me I can grow up to be whatever I want to be.  Catherine Tate will be my godmother.  Michael Sheen will be my godfather.  
• Alright…onto the not-so-fun stuff. 
• I got my first real experience with the NHS yesterday.  I knew that I would have to find a doctor while over here (because, uh, I need one for my prescriptions and the school requires me to get one). Finding one and registering as a new patient was easy enough: fill out some paperwork, drop it off at the front desk, wait for the text message saying whether or not I’d been accepted (I was), and wham-bam you’re in, baby! 
• (For the record, the term surgery has two definitions over here.  It can mean a procedure in which a doctor cuts open a patient OR it can be a generic term for a place to consult a doctor.  Needless to say, I was a little confused when the closest office to me was called a surgery.  I don’t THINK that kind of procedure will help with my anxiety…)
• As soon as I got the text that I was a bonafide patient, I called the office in order to schedule an appointment.  The conversation went a little something like:

Office Manager: What is the reason for your appointment?
Me: You know, I’m a new patient.  I want to meet my doctor and establish care.  Talk about my prescriptions.
(A long pause) 
Office Manger: Is something wrong?  Is there a symptom you want to have looked at?
Me: No.  I just think I should see a doctor…you know, to establish care. 
The office manager didn’t really understand that and just recommended that I 
come in during their walk-in hours to meet with a doctor and refill my prescriptions.  

• I took the bus to the office yesterday and waited in a short line outside…excuse me, a queue outside.  At the receptionist desk, I exclaimed that I wanted to meet with a doctor to refill my prescriptions and they directed me to a waiting room upstairs  
• I had a sneaking suspicion that I would be waiting a while since my issue wasn’t an emergency at all, and I was right.  I got into the room around 8:15 and probably wasn’t taken back until 9:30, after watching a slew of people who definitely arrived after me get seen first.  Please don’t think, however, that I was upset about this.  Coming from a country where a meeting like this would easily cost $200, I was happy to wait for a free consultation. 
• Once my name was called, I met with a very nice doctor who looked over my prescriptions.  My depression medication was easy enough to fill out as Zoloft (Sertraline) is prescribed both in the States and here.  And then she got to the Vyvanse. 
• About a year ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD and, after trying several different medications, found something that helps me stay focused and energized: Vyvanse (lisdexamfetamine).  My prescribing doctor at the time informed me that getting any kind of stimulant can be incredibly tricky these days as there’s been an explosion of ADHD (and the like) diagnosis.  And she wasn’t kidding.  Being on Vyvanse is great, but the withdrawal symptoms are nasty, and because there’s almost always some kind of shortage, I almost always had to go a few days without my medication as the pharmacy scrambled to get more in.  Unlike other drugs, Vyvanse (and presumably any kind of stimulant) doesn’t build up in your system: it has to be taken every day to feel the full effect.  This means that even going one day without it leads to me feeling incredibly agitated, irritable, and depressed.  
• While living with Melody, there were times I just had to be honest with her and say, “Hey, I’m out of Vyvanse for the next couple of days.  I’m not going to be myself and I may be really moody.” (And Melody, like the champ she is, was always there for me.)  (I did this often with my co-workers at Starbucks, too, so shout-out to Sam, Samaria, and Charlotte for always understanding my mental health struggles.) 
• With this background information now, picture the scene: I’m sitting in the office of this UK doctor and she’s looking up my Vyvanse.  She turns to me and says, “Oh.  Right.  Alright.  We can’t prescribe this here.  You’ll need a specialist.”  I had kind of assumed this but hoped it wouldn’t come to that.  Upon asking the doctor if she could refer me to a specialist, she said she could BUT the wait times for a specialist of this nature are “monstrous”.  
• “What do you mean by monstrous?” I ask.  “One to two years,” she replies.
• My heart SANK.  I could potentially have to wait one to two YEARS to see a specialist who will hopefully diagnose me with something I already have and then hopefully prescribe a medication that I already know works and then have to wait for however long for said medication to come in?  I started to panic and said, “I…I need this medication to function.” 
  “I appreciate that,” she kept saying, “And I am sorry, but there have just been so many new diagnoses of this that the NHS simply can’t keep up.”
  My mind wandered back to a few months ago when I was filling in a different Starbucks and I overheard a partner saying to someone, “God, I need to get back on Vyvanse.  I lost so much weight when I was on that.”  My face burned with anger.  This is not about losing weight or trendy TikToks.  This is about my daily function. 
  I think the doctor could sense my panic and frustration so she gave me a few options.  First off, I had to get a formal letter from my doctor back in the States saying that I had been diagnosed with ADHD and that I had found a medication that worked.  I needed to do this as soon as possible.  Maybe they could file my case differently and get me to see a specialist sooner because I already have a history of this.  Even still, my doctor couldn’t guarantee that that would work.  Next, she highly recommended that I, for the time being at least, look into a private doctor.  I would have to pay to see them, but I’d hopefully get my medication sooner.  
• Still feeling rather raw, I thanked the doctor profusely and left to catch my bus home.  I realized that then I hadn’t taken my Vyvanse yet for the day and decided that I wasn’t going to: I didn’t have class yesterday and it seems I was going to have to use it sparingly. 
• Once home, I did a quick Google search, trying to find a private doctor who specializes in mental health and ADHD.  That led me to a couple of UK ADHD resources sites, one of which is an organization that only does ADHD diagnosis and medications.  I did a live chat with them and when I offered up that I already had the diagnosis and just needed someone to prescribe the medication, they informed me that they would have to formally diagnose me themselves.  And I could sign up for my first appointment for the low, low price of only £530!  
• I am hoping and praying that there is an easier way…that someone will take the previous diagnosis and call it good enough.  At the end of the day, however, I have to do what needs to be done in order to get my medication  Some might argue that I lived without the Vyvanse before, I can certainly live without it now, and, yes, I probably can but A) I don’t want to and B) I’m terrified of what a drawn out withdrawal period will look like, especially now that I’m in grad school and need to focus.  
• I did take my Vyvanse today and do currently have enough for another week at least.  I have gotten my formal letter from my US doctor and sent it over to my UK GP.  Today will be mostly researching private specialists and collecting information so I can schedule an appointment sooner rather than later.  
• If there is a take-away from this, I’ll say it’s that ADHD is a very real issue and, while I would never dismiss someone’s journey or struggles, I just ask that when you’re faced with the question of whether or not you actually have it, please be honest.  There is a shortage of resources out there and some of us genuinely need it.  If you’re only taking Adderall, Vyvanse, or any other stimulants because it “helps you lose weight” (something that I personally haven’t experienced), do us all a favor and go fuck yourself.  

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