Women and ADHD: Where Our Deficits and Society’s Images Mismatch
On the surface, I had it all together. But underneath, I was paddling like hell.
I come from a long line of overachieving women. My grandmother, who I have mentioned before on this blog, was the matriarch of our family. She:
Was an anesthesiologist, in the Philippines, in the 1950s
Could speak 8 languages
Had 6 children
And oh, by the way, was an opera singer
Like me, she could not say no to new opportunities, and like me, when she was told she couldn’t do something, would work like mad to show how she could and WOULD do it.
This combination of determination and split focus has passed down from her, to me, to my daughters (and many other members of my family). As an overachiever, hard work and motivation have been my M.O.
But I carry a secret that for a long time, I found shameful. I still do, sometimes.
Because I almost failed out of med school.
That fact surprises many people when they find out, because I am a successful physician, entrepreneur, speaker, parent, etc. But as I’ve mentioned before, tests aren’t the measure of a person’s worth… and they can’t accurately predict a person’s later success in the real world.
Running Laps through School
When I was in high school, I never finished reading a textbook, never finished reading an assigned novel for literature class. I was in honors level classes, taking AP English. And I couldn’t focus to sit and read a book to save my life. Where were audiobooks back then when I needed them most? I was smart, though, and I figured out how to work around the system. I was a solid B-plus student, and I got by. I made a 31 on the ACT, (after several tries) so I got into college. In college, I still couldn’t read a whole book straight through. I have vivid memories of running laps around my dorm room and lounge the night before a test, trying to stay awake while I crammed all the information, just so I could regurgitate it immediately the next day.
And I got by in college doing this. I did ok. I was still an honors student and graduated with a 3.5 GPA. And, because I practiced hard, and took it multiple times, I got a high enough score on the MCAT to get into med school. I also benefited from the fact that, at the time I was applying to med school, schools were starting to diversify their applicant pool. So a non-white female applicant was a little more attractive to them, regardless of her MCAT scores or her college grades.
Scraping By
Since I got accepted to med school, I thought it would be “College, part two.” More cramming the night before, more sliding by. And I quickly learned that was not going to be possible. The information was rushing at me like water from a fire hydrant. I looked at my classmates, who were sitting in classes taking furious notes and working through study plans methodically, and I knew I could not do that.
I had never learned how to study, because I had never had to. I had always just slid through it. And I found out that “sliding” in college had transitioned to “scraping” in med school: picture me scraping myself along concrete through the bottom of a door that was about to slam shut on me. This was not a fun, easy slide. I was working the hardest I could and barely getting through. I started to feel like I didn’t belong there.
The Reason and the Reality
And then came the D in my histology class. Histology is the study of microscopic tissues—the opposite of “gross anatomy,” it’s like the microscopic view of anatomy. Pretty important subject for a doctor in training to understand, but very difficult ideas that require a lot of focus to comprehend.
My professors made comments that I might be well suited to becoming a news anchor. I thought, “Are you trying to say something about me?”
I had never gotten a D before in any class, high school, college, anywhere. I had to go before the dean to defend myself and why I should be able to stay in med school. And they realized somewhere in there that I didn’t know how to study.
The administration thought maybe I should be tested for attention deficit. And their diagnosis was conclusive, but so unhelpful. “Well, you probably have ADHD, but since you’re so well- adjusted, just keep doing what you’re doing. It isn’t affecting you.” Effectively: “you’re not making a fuss about it, and you don’t disrupt class, and obviously you’ve learned some coping strategies, so don’t worry about it! Just keep failing.”
Figuring it Out on my Own
So I struggled on, scraping by and making it happen the rest of my first and second year of med school. I passed. And in my third and fourth year, when my coursework became more active learning, focused on clinical work and actual work with humans and patients, I shone. Active learning was made for a brain like mine. I needed work I could physically get my hands into, that wasn’t just memorization and theory.
