Labeled.

October 21, 2010
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There I was, a 14 year old with shoulder length brown hair, sitting in the waiting room. I knew why I was there, and I knew what they were going to tell me. It was something I didn’t want to here. I wanted to be like everyone else, but I was going to be labeled. No one wants to be labeled.

The nurse came out with a clipboard. She called out “Devon Gross.” My mother and I got up slowly and the nurse lead the way to the room she wanted me in. It was a small, rectangular grey room. It had a computer, bed, 2 chairs and a couple of bright paintings framed on the wall to give it some color. I was told to take a seat on the bed.

The nurse did the usual, she took my blood pressure, measured my temperature, shined the light into my eyes, etc. Then she walked out the door, I never did see her again. My mother and I made casual conversation with each other, but we both were waiting anxiously.

About 5 minutes passed, the longest 5 minutes of my life. The doctor walked in. She took a seat in a maroon desk chair. She started with some questions. “How are you feeling?” “What are your symptoms?” She then handed me a piece of paper. It was a short paragraph about the American Revolution and I had no idea what it had to do with anything. She told me to read out loud. I did.

Then the doctor told me to take a seat in front of the computer. Again I listened to her. She explained that I had to press space for ever letter except for X. Then my mom and her left the room and I did what I was told. After 15 minutes they both entered the room again.
The doctor merely just told me what I already new. She labeled me. She told me I had ADHD.





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