New

I’ve been out of hospital for eight days, and they’ve been very good days. Last Monday I moved into my new house and I couldn’t ask for more. My housemate and I get along really well, it’s close to nearly all my friends and I can walk to places. There’s a nice creek with a path a couple of streets to the South and in three minutes I can walk to a very nice café at the end of my street, where there’s also lots of other shops. I’ve never lived within walking distance of anything like this, as a kid there were some shops you could walk to, but nothing special and not this close. And trees! I have trees that haven’t just been planted everywhere I look.

I’m a little worried this arrangement won’t last, but I’ll enjoy it while it does. My housemate and her husband own the house. He works in Brisbane and only comes down when the flights are cheap. She’s going up there for 6 weeks in November / December for work, it’s not a permanent job but if they like her and a job comes up I imagine she’ll take it to be with her husband, and since they own the house I can’t just take over the lease.

My time in hospital went well. I was there three and a half weeks, two of which were for ECT. ECT works very well for me, better than any medication, but without maintenance it won’t last. I feel guilty wishing my dad was still alive purely for my own convenience, but I really need him for this (bringing me home from maintenance). There is my brother but he’d do it very begrudgingly, if at all

I re-gained some trust from my psychiatrist while I was in hospital. For the first time since the tall building and police incident he let me out on leave by my self for walks and coffee etc. Time in there goes much faster when you’re not trapped. I had what I’m pretty sure is the biggest room in the ward - unlike last time where I hardly had room to store my suitcase. I was worried that because I spent a night in ICU someone else would get my room, but they kept it for me.

A friend and I have an agreement to start writing in October, her a Bible study, me a novel. Don’t judge me by this blog, I’ve never really found a style for it; I’ve just wanted to let people see the reality of severe mental illness. I’m worried about my punctuation; I just guess where to put things. I think I’ll be fine with character and plot. I’m curious to see what comes out.

ECT On The Morrow

I just read over my last post, wow, what a mess! Ever heard of a paragraph?! I think it was indicative of my state of mind at the time though.

I’ve been here a week today, one night of which was spent in ICU after apologising to a nurse in advance for the likeliness of her finding my body. I’m grateful to my doctor for not leaving me there any longer than one night; it’s pretty awful. The nature of it means there has to be little privacy, but it could be greatly improved by a fresh coat of paint and something to do other than watch TV or colour in mandalas. My inner bitch came out to play and I was quite unkind to the nurses / captors.

My doctor has decided to give me a round of ECT. I’m a bit unclear on how he reached the decision, but I think it’s because we needed fast improvement given how bent on killing myself I was. I say was because I’ve told him I won’t try it in hospital, it would be difficult and if I survive I’d be banned from the hospital and probably dumped as his patient.

I’ve written in the past about how much ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy) has affected my memory, but I was mistaken. A couple of months ago I had a neuropsychology assessment – a 5-hour test on memory among other things. It was determined that my memory issues are due to severe depression, which can impair recollection and creation of memories. The type of memories I’ve lost don’t correlate with ECT memory loss and my depression was rated at the top of the scale they used.

Although I know about my memory I am still a little anxious about losing more. I have no fear of the procedure, the first of which is tomorrow morning, just the memory side of things. I think this session will take me into the 30s for ECT. It’s so high because I’ve had maintenance sessions where you come in once a week as an outpatient. I probably need to do that again but my Dad is dead and he played a role in me being able to come. Mum would drop me off before work (I had to be here early) and then later Dad would pick me up; he worked for himself, so he had the freedom to do that. Now it would mean Mum missing half a day of work once a week, and I can’t catch a taxi home because you have to be accompanied after the treatment. Anyway, I won’t be living with her.

I’ve been introduced to a friend of L’s who is in here at the moment. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, still in the getting-to-know-you phase, but there’s at least someone here I can say hello to (and raid hard drives!)