I'm situated in front of a giant touchscreen that cycles through awards and new treatment that OSU Harding Hospital has received.
I'm standing and bullshitting through time before therapy starts. and one comes through on screen that catches my eye.
Now offering ECT therapy.
I take a sip of my coffee and think about the horrors of that treatment being offered in the multistory building in which I stand.
and it seems happy and sterile and clean.
but all of the images I get from reading The Snake Pit and Girl, Interrupted with rooms made of cinder block, gurneys with restraints and white cotton sheets. with little cotton balls stuck to to ends getting ready to shock the ever living shit out of me. imagining your whole body seizing up.
I think of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
and the idea crosses my mind that maybe I should try it. to have volts of electricity sent through my brain and deal with the ugly burn marks on the side of my temples--a war wound almost like the scars on my arms. what's a few minutes of being scared shitless?
could that cure me? cause all these misfirings to fire correctly. would this remove all my needs for tons of medication? just a few appointments of jolts and walk away.
I imagine my feet firmly hitting the pavement with a headband firmly wrapped around my head and I have two earbuds. I'm imagining that I'm still recovering from ECT, but I feel better. the more I think about it the more alluring it seems than the endless round of pills and bloodwork. I imagine running with a clear head and slightly aching muscles. only a few dates on the schedule for electroshock therapy and then back to work and life.
and that's where I'm at. trying to remove the scary from one of the most scary procedures in the world. because I don't want another year of depression. I would rather possibly suffer amnesia and be willingly shocked.
because my neurosis has good and bad days and I'm sick of the fucking term "live life on life's terms."
because these are my fucking terms and I want to be a smiling mom with a latte and yoga pants pushing her children on the swings. I could easily hide my treatment with sporty headbands or well placed bangs. you don't have to remember everything, right?
and I'm drawn to this electric cure because it's been around so long and they have no real idea why it works. it's kinda like a reboot to the system.
it's like lithium and prozac.
been there, done that.
so here I am. reflecting at the new offering at OSU. debating if one of the oldest cures could be my escape.
but I think about the memory loss and the loss of time in Mary Jane Ward's The Snake Pit what if it makes things worse? rips me away from what little family and friends I have.
I've been on medication that's made things worse but any trip to the psychiatric ER doesn't get you admitted.
there is no room at the inn.
depressive episodes are no big deal, just make sure you call someone before you decide to do something stupid.
don't take more medicine than recommended. drink water. sleep. exercise. interact with others.
pull up your bootstraps. but I'm stuck in house shoes and 3 days of not showering. of getting that hot feeling when I think about people and effectively not using my smartphone for 3 days.
no one mentions electroshock therapy or lobotomies or hydrotherapy anymore. that's all real dirty in the psychology realm.
that's the black sheep you cast out.
but the internet says ECT is 80-90% in creating improvements or depression. but that's kinda vague for me, plus we really don't know what I have. and I don't know how in the hell to get it done when I can't in to see a psychiatrist--let alone get an MRI.
so, they put you under for ECT. this keeps on sounding like the way to go. you don't hurt, minimal recovery. just some confusion and some memory loss, couple little burns.
try everything once right?
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