We left the house at 9:20 a.m. this morning. By 9:45 Anita and I had arrived at the ECT waiting room at Parkwood Institute, me bundled up in winter coat, warranted by the freezing rain warning.
Shortly thereafter, a gentle, kind nurse with an infinity tattoo on the back of her neck called out ‘Robert?’ She took me into the Electroconvulsive Therapy clinic proper. Unfortunately, Anita couldn’t join me there.
I changed into a hospital gown, got onto a gurney, and was covered in a warmed blanket. That first nurse explained the whole procedure. I was so frightened that I didn’t really follow and asked another nurse trainee to explain again. She did so – equally gently and kindly.
I then took out my cell phone, put on my headphones, and began a guided meditation, while waiting for the treatment regime to start.
An IV was inserted in my right hand while still in the recovery room. Those who don’t have phobias may find it strange that this was the specific event I have dreaded most over these weeks of waiting. Those who have phobias will understand right away. Anyway, the meditation and thoughts of why I was doing this — to get my life back — got me through it.
The gurney, with me ensconced, was then wheeled to the actual treatment room. As I had been warned by the second nurse, a whole team then attached things to me: pads on my chest for an ECG to monitor my heart; a blood pressure cuff on my left arm; an oxygen mask; electrical contacts on my temples (the tape from which remained on all day, until I looked in the mirror at 5 p.m.); and more besides. Once I was fully hooked up, the team did a “treatment pause” to make sure everyone agreed on who was being treated and how. (This is clearly a good precaution with so many patients coming through and so many medical professionals involved.) As both nurses had warned me, all of this collective activity was normal and didn’t indicate any kind of emergency.
The anesthesiologist told me that I’d soon be feeling sleepy. The next instant, or so it seemed from my point of view, I was back in the recovery room. In fact, I’d been out for about fifteen minutes. The team had actually done two rounds of treatment. All had gone well.
In the recovery room, I felt dopey and a mite nauseous. As soon as I alerted them, they gave me something intravenously for the nausea and it worked very well. I wanted to sleep, but was unable to doze off, so I simply lay still and meditated. My head cleared over the next half hour or so. I was checked on regularly and given water to perk me up. I then dressed myself and the “infinity-tattoo nurse” took me out to Anita’s massive hug. It was just shy of noon and time to head home.
I wouldn’t say that I was especially confused when I awoke, and I don’t think I forgot anything. However, I did notice a few physical side-effects. As I got up from the gurney, I discovered sore muscles in my lower back and left calf . These were presumably from the seizures. Nothing too bad – it was as if I’d done a strenuous workout and needed to stretch. I had a mild headache around my right temple. When I eventually ate something, after a nap at home, I realized that my right upper jaw was sore and that the “headache” was more about that than anything else. Tylenol helped with all of the above.
More than anything, I was simply very, very tired when I got home. I mentioned a first nap. I needed a second one around 2:30, after a brief Zoom call. I certainly wasn’t up for a run this afternoon, though I went out for two brief walks. Still, I don’t know how much the tiredness was from my sleepless night versus the electric shock and the anesthetic.
My next session will be Friday morning. I don’t feel nearly as frightened about the second treatment, though I still fear the needle and there are sure to be other side-effects. All told, I’m worn out but hopeful.