New ADD Spurs Money and Hope for More Money

After TPV started raising cognitive issues, the New York Times took the lead and published:  Idea of New Attention Disorder Spurs Research, and Debate. Marquel, the TPV correspondent luckily read that article and added: sluggish cognitive tempo (SCT) is characterized by lethargy and daydreaming.

Marquel first heard about SCT when a doctor Barkley from North or South Carolina had diagnosed a new ADHD. It could afflict millions of kids. Just in time, too, because the drug companies who manufacture Ritalin for ADHD have just about saturated the market. I spoke to a drug executive.

“Right now, we’ve got a good proportion of teenagers and younger on Ritalin,” he said, “but the market seems saturated.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked, “you must be making millions. The patent lasts twenty plus years. I don’t see a problem.”

“Ha,” he said dismissively. “First of all IF we were making millions, we’d all get fired. We make two billion a year on that one drug.”

“That’s at least forty BILLION over the life of the patent,” I said, “I’ll take a teeny tiny little cut off that if you don’t mind.”

He ignored me. “That’s not that much for a drug company.” His eyes glazed over. “Our dream is to have the entire young population on our medication. Can you imagine?” He kept gazing at the ceiling marveling at the possibility.

“I imagine some sort of Hell,” I said.

He was still staring at the ceiling. His head lowered towards the desk and then he shook his head, almost as if he were waking up.

“Sorry,” he said, “late hours on research.”

I said I had the same problem. now he was looking me over with interest and making me uncomfortable. I excused myself and left, looking back to see his head finally hit the table. I didn’t bother saying good bye. I headed down to North Carolina and looked all over. No Dr. Barkley. So I went over to South Carolina and that’s where I found him.

In his office I found him. Asleep with his head on his desk. I knocked.

“Sorry,” he said, “power napping. You were saying?”

“I actually didn’t say anything.” What a strange man, I thought, “I wanted to learn a little about SCT.” His eyes brightened. Then he seemed transfixed. He stared at the wall, head bobbing for a while. I just waited. And waited.

Finally he spoke. “Sorry I was just thinking about all those kids with SCT. All those patients. All those medicines. All those accounts. God bless Obamacare.”

“Can you tell me about the syndrome,” I asked. He was staring again. I had to wait. And wait. Finally his head snapped upward and he spoke.

“It’s a terrible affliction. Children with the disease are very lethargic. Tired, slow, prone to nodding off. Don’t like physical exercise. Tend to watch video games on a couch.”

“Sounds like a teenager to me,” I said.

He was staring again. “Yes,” he suddenly spoke. “The poor things. They get so lethargic they don’t even want to take out the garbage. Speaking of garbage, I see the janitor passing. Could you take out this waste basket to him?” He asked, waving his hand towards the corner. “I’m dead tired today. I can’t figure it out.” I dumped it and returned.

“Couldn’t these just be tired kids,” I asked, as he started staring again. His head dropped and he spoke.

“Well it’s more than lethargy. It’s a syndrome. They also tend to daydream excessively.” At the word “daydream” he started staring again.

“I don’t know for sure,” I said, “but I suspect Einstein daydreamed a lot. I heard he sometimes walked around in his socks he was so preoccupied. Do you think he was lethargic too?”

“Doubt it,” he said and went back to staring. When he finished, he repeated just what the drug executive stated. “Can you imagine every child in the country on our drugs?” He was staring again, clearly imagining a world where everybody has Sluggish Cognitive Tempo, and everybody is cured with his drugs.

“So how did you discover this?” I wondered.

“Watching my kids. They’re lethargic. They don’t take out the garbage. They daydream. I have to scream for them before they answer.” He smiled. “Serendipity, I guess,” he said, “can you imagine finding a gold mine at your kitchen table, dressed with their pants hanging as low as their fibberdiddles?”

“But it’s a gold mine for the drug companies,” I said, “not for you.”

He corrected me. “No, I did all the tests. That’s millions. And because I invented a new use for Ritalin, we get a new twenty year patent and that’s billions.”

I pondered this and found it troubling, and not just the obvious conflict of interest. “You really didn’t invent a new use for the drug. You invented a new disease.”

“That might be but you can’t patent a new disease.” He said smiling. “But once you have a new disease, you can get a new patent, even for an old drug, for the new disease. And the inventor gets special payments!” Now be was staring, lowering his head to the table, and snoring.

“Are you sure,” I asked, “that you don’t just have a tired but curious family and you tend to sleep and daydream more than normal?” But he didn’t answer and I left.

It was too predictable. On the train home I was so preoccupied by this whole SCT deal that I missed Penn station and ended up in Boston where the conductor had to waken me. Did I have SCT? I imagined having discovered it and receiving the royalties. I was in bliss all the way back to New York. Who’d want a drug to kill that?

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Feeling sluggish? Go on Twitter and follow Marquel @MarquelatTPV. You’ll feel better. Guaranteed!