Recently I went in for my maintenance ECT, which is electroconvulsive therapy, also known as, shock therapy. I needed it. My mood has been shifting from my neutral to a depressive episode, which can be dangerous for me. I can call into my doctor and tell them I am struggling and they can get me in on either a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday. They got me in on that Friday. Because I have been doing ECT for about four years now, I have been able to start remembering the experience more and more each time. ECT is always done in the morning. I am not a morning person, so for me to schedule a 6 am appointment to have electrical currents sent through my brain, to induce a seizure, to balance out the chemicals in my brain, something bad must be happening
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I held the Lamictal, Xanax, and Topamax, other than that I took everything as prescribed last night” I say to her. I try to make it as easy as possible for both of us.
She leaves and the nurse comes back with the waiver. I sign it and she starts asking me basic questions.
“Do you have any loose teeth?”
“No.”
“Any heart problems?”
“No.”
This goes on and on. Many questions, to which I answer no. She writes everything down and then Stacy comes in. Stacy is the woman who helps set everything up. I call her when I need to set up appointments. She is often in the procedure room with me too.
“Hey Sierra, we have new memory sheets that we need you to do,” she tells me. She gives me a sheet of paper and a pen. The sheet is to help determine how much the ECT has damaged my current memory. This new sheet is so much harder than the last one. I have to draw a cube, which is easy enough.
“Repeat these words after me…” she says, though all I can really remember is red and daisy, I know there were five those. I have to label a lion and a giraffe.
“Subtract 7 from 100,” she says.
“93,” I say proud of myself, for getting it so quickly.
“Keep going,” she insists.
“Um…86, um, um, 79,72, 65,” that is hard then it
I held the Lamictal, Xanax, and Topamax, other than that I took everything as prescribed last night” I say to her. I try to make it as easy as possible for both of us.
She leaves and the nurse comes back with the waiver. I sign it and she starts asking me basic questions.
“Do you have any loose teeth?”
“No.”
“Any heart problems?”
“No.”
This goes on and on. Many questions, to which I answer no. She writes everything down and then Stacy comes in. Stacy is the woman who helps set everything up. I call her when I need to set up appointments. She is often in the procedure room with me too.
“Hey Sierra, we have new memory sheets that we need you to do,” she tells me. She gives me a sheet of paper and a pen. The sheet is to help determine how much the ECT has damaged my current memory. This new sheet is so much harder than the last one. I have to draw a cube, which is easy enough.
“Repeat these words after me…” she says, though all I can really remember is red and daisy, I know there were five those. I have to label a lion and a giraffe.
“Subtract 7 from 100,” she says.
“93,” I say proud of myself, for getting it so quickly.
“Keep going,” she insists.
“Um…86, um, um, 79,72, 65,” that is hard then it