Yes, I do Remember Your Sister's Cat's Name

Last night I watched season 1 episode 12 of Masters of Sex, an episode in which many events occur, but what stood out to me was one of the characters, Barton Scully, deciding to undergo electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) as a treatment for homosexuality. Now, of course, this did not leave me thrilled that in the not too distant past such measures (or any measures) were taken in an attempt to cure homosexuality, but what left me troubled was the discussion held between Barton and his wife about the memory loss caused by the procedure. I don't know how many sessions of ECT I have had, at a guess, I'd put it around 50, I've had 12 just in this admission. The conversation between Barton and his wife upset me because she was expressing her fears that he may no longer remember the important and pleasant events making up their marriage. This has happened to me, not with a marriage of course, but my entire life is patchy. Back in 2014, I had an assessment performed on my memory as I was very concerned about the volume of things I was forgetting, the conclusion was that while I had significant memory loss, it was a result of severe depression, not ECT. I can't argue with this as it is a fact that severe depression has an effect on the memory, but I do fear that it is indeed caused by ECT, in which case the most effective treatment for me is causing me to forget the name of a person I met five minutes ago, where I went last weekend, the plot of a book I'm half way through - but have had a two day break from, or today's date, even though I looked at it two minutes ago. I regularly find myself embarrassed by my inability to remember something; I pretend I know what people are talking about quite often, hoping they don't catch on that I've got no idea who or what they're referring to. I went to a kitchen tea yesterday; the hens for the same bride-to-be was three weekends prior, most of the same people were there and other than the few that go to my church, and so I see regularly, I recognised no one. Forgetting people new to me isn't uncommon and it makes me wonder what else I've lost from my memory, there are things I know I've forgotten because people have tried to talk to me about them and I can't, but what else is there? Are there some amazing events from my life that are just gone? I think there are. This may be a benefit, but I have few memories of my Dad, well lots of bad ones, maybe it would be less painful recollecting him if I had some good ones to balance the bad with.

I don't remember when I had my first course of ECT; I do remember just this snippet of conversation with my psychiatrist when he suggested it. "What! They still do that?!" and his response explaining that these days it's done under general anaesthetic and with a muscle relaxant. It's not like One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. If you're interested here's a little documentary that I think is quite accurate, skip to 5min if all you want to see is the actual procedure. Having never seen it live I can't say for sure, but I've been told the muscle relaxant makes the seizure so minimal in the body that all you can really see is twitching in the toes. The set up here is different to where I go, and mine is a lot more casual and modern, but I think generally it's the same as this video. Despite all the memory loss, which I can't even know for sure is from the ECT I don't think I regret choosing that path, maybe even if I could still do maintenance I'd be on fewer drugs and in a better general state. To conclude this post. I just don't know.

Seven Weeks And Three Days

It looks like this is going to beat my longest admission of nine weeks. I'm now at seven weeks and three days in here, plus the six days I spent in the medical hospital.

I've had two courses of ECT - that's 12 sessions and unlike usual they did nothing to help. My doctor has put me on a new drug - Reboxetine (Edronax), I'm still on a fairly low dose, these things have to be increased slowly and also take a while for the results to become evident. I'm looking forward to seeing if it will have any positive impact on me on a higher dose and with more time.

I can't function at the moment; I'm spending the majority of my days lying face down on my bed hugging a pillow. I missed lunch today, but I went out for coffee and a muffin with a friend; that will be my activity for the day. By the end of the outing I was exhausted (If you're reading this K, I really did enjoy seeing you). All I could think of was bed by about the halfway point. Yesterday I remained in my pyjamas until about 4pm, maybe later. The most I did was watch 3/4 of an episode of Bob's Burgers, I could watch the rest now but writing this is taking all of my energy - so don't expect this to be a good read, not that they're ever fun!

Since my last post, many physical things have changed. It turns out my wrist was broken - well fractured - it was the pisiform. The GP here in the clinic said that in her 36 years of practice she's never seen a fractured pisiform. I had a month in a cast, but it's getting re X-Rayed tomorrow because we suspect it's not healed. I really don't want more time in a cast.

I had an ultrasound that found a large ovarian cyst that needs to be removed due to its size; often they can be left, but not this one. I think this will be my 6th surgery.

I had a chest CT scan because I was coughing so much I was vomiting and struggling to breathe, it was suspected to be a flare up of my asthma, but it doesn't look that way. Still, I'm on four inhalers for now. The CT came back clear.

I don't think I've felt this depressed for a very long time, not for long periods, there are always very short stints, but this is consistent. I can wake up and think " Oh thank you, I'm okay" and then as soon as I see the first person or hear a noise the flatness re-appears and the dark thoughts return. I've promised myself that I will never go back to a certain public hospital, which is where they send sectioned patients from here, so I have that motivating factor not to injure myself either in the hospital or while out on leave. I have suicide plans but the only one that will definitely work will traumatise someone else, so I don't want to do it. If I try one of the ones that may fail I could end up back in that awful hospital. So despite feeling intensely suicidal, I'm actually quite safe.

A few weeks' ago a minister from my church and a man from my small group came to take communion with me; I was very touched by that. I value communion greatly; I find it to be a physical reminder of what Christ has done for us and a physical way to connect to the church, not just your own, but the entire Christian church. It also forces prayer and reflection prior to taking it, both being things we can cast aside due to other things in our lives. I have plenty of time to pray, but I spend it feeling so caught up in how awful I'm feeling that often the best I can manage is "God please forgive my sins and please help me"; sometimes even just "God I need your help". I know God would rather us acknowledge we need Him than try to do life on our own, so I try not to feel too guilty about my lack of prayer life, but I would like it to be more substantial.

That's all I've got to write now.

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Bye.