| Anna's ECT Diary | |
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ect diary, 1st entry
8th march 1998, 10pm
it's been decided, and tomorrow i go to charing cross hospital in west london for my first treatment of electroconvulsive therapy. i suppose this is my last port of call in an effort to rid myself of depression, which has been with me for a long long time.
i was first diagnosed with 'mental health problems' aged 13, panic attacks, agoraphobia, which, amid more generalised adolescent malaise, mutated into depression at around aged 18, i suppose. it was another 3, perhaps 4 years before i recognised that these endless feelings of malcontent were not normal, and that perhaps i didn't have to feel this way.
so at 22 i first started taking prozac, which worked like a dream - in six weeks i went from the depths of gloom and came out into the sunlight... the world opened up before me with opportunities for happiness i had never even noticed before. i smiled, and the world smiled back.
but i made the classic mistake, and stopped taking the prozac too soon, rapidly relapsing in to a worsening episode of depression which, to my horror, no longer responded to medication.
and nearly 3 years later i find myself in the same situation, having tried a total of 11 antidepressants, 2 talk therapies as well as more general 'life enhancers', like taking exercise and making sure my diet is good - nothing has helped, nothing at all, though i've been a good girl and taken my pills regularly and looked after myself physically and been through the painful therapy. i don't know why i feel i should stress that; i did everything i was supposed to, i tried to help myself. it didn't work. unlucky.
so you can imagine that i got pretty tired of the merry-go-round of antidepressants.
i got a new psychiatrist (my clinic seems to have a high turnover of staff), and he mentioned the option of ect. i was shocked, and then scared ... i should have known, somehow, i mean, anyone could see that that was where the therapeutic route was eventually going to end, right? everyone knows that ect is the 'last-resort' treatment for depression.
i suppose, even in my most feeble hours, that i was still hanging on to the hope that it wouldn't have to come to this.
not that, mind you, i believe that ect is a terrible thing. i think it's like this: a lot of the time while i've been depressed, i've been questioning myself - if i'm really *ill* or just lazy, if i'm malingering, if i could get better if i *really* wanted to ... if i was faced with the real prospect of ect, i thought i would just 'get over it'. who wants to go through ect? i certainly don't.
i didn't get over it and anyway the next few weeks were hell, fighting off suicidal urges, utter despair, hopelessness and tedium filling the most part of every day.
i told my husband about it first, then my mum, then my dad. they were all pretty upset about it. my mum was in floods of tears thinking about seizures and general anaesthetics, and my dad i thought was going to just detatch himself from the situation, let me get on with it on my own, without his involvement, cuz i'm a big girl now. i understand how he felt. he feels like he was bereaved of his mother to ect - she had it in the 50's for manic depression, and he feels like she was never the same person again.
but he came round. dear, sweet lovely man, he was brave, and we all went to the hospital with a consultation with george, the clinical specialist nurse, who told us all about it, answered questions. and we all came out feeling reassured that it is basically low-risk. mum and dad are fine. brad doesn't know quite how he feels about it, but i knew i could count on him to support me in whatever i decided to do.
there was no question that i would have decided to go ahead with this course of treatment unless i was satisfied and could satisfy the people that love me most that i am going to be safe.
so.
the first treatment is tomorrow, at 1.30pm. a lot of people will be thinking about me at that time, and that feels good to know. if there is any power in positive thought at all, it will be working for me.
i have nothing to eat in the morning. at 1.00pm, brad will drive me to the hospital, and we'll go up to the 3rd floor. we'll wait in the waiting room and my heart will be pounding and i'll be squeezing brad's hand and then they'll call me in, and i'll leave brad to drink coffee out of polystyrene cups and stand outside the hospital for an hour, smoking worriedly. i'll be given a shot of general anaesthetic, along with a muscle relaxant, so i don't hurt myself when i have the seizure. jelly on my temples to promote the electricity flow, the ect machine (i
saw it) is set to a low voltage at first, then the doctor places the electrodes, which look like mikes with red tops, on my temples, and i start to convulse. the seizure has to last 15 seconds. they put the power on the machine up until i have the seizure that lasts 15 seconds.
then i am wheeled out to the recovery room, where i can have a drink and a biscuit and come round.
i might have a headache. i might have gaps in my memory. i might have aching in my limbs from the muscle relaxant. when i'm feeling better, brad will drive us home again.
and then it'll be time for installment #2 - after the first treatment.
wish me luck
anna xxx
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