Your Grandchild Got Diagnosed, and You Recognized Yourself

Seeing your own childhood in your grandchild’s diagnosis

Your daughter asked you to come to the appointment. So you’re sitting next to her while the doctor talks about your granddaughter.

The doctor goes through what she’s been like.

She loses her homework between her bag and the kitchen table. She falls apart when a plan changes. She starts one thing, forgets it halfway, and moves to another.

You nod along, but somewhere around the third item your chest goes tight, because the doctor is describing your granddaughter and describing you as a kid in the same breath.

While the adults talk, your granddaughter folds a corner of paper into smaller and smaller squares. You know that itch in your own hands. You did the same thing your whole life, in every waiting room, because you could never just sit still.

You’d started to suspect it before today. When the school first suggested testing her, you read up on ADHD, and a lot of it sounded like you.

But reading it late at night is one thing. Hearing a doctor say it out loud, about a kid you love, is another.

The main thing you feel is glad. She’s getting help now, while she’s young. She’ll grow up knowing what this is, instead of thinking she’s lazy or careless or not trying hard enough, the way you did.