Journal Entry 4

On Monday, 10/31/2011, ECT #1 was completed. I have elaborated now on notes I jotted down that evening...

Pre-op consisted first of the application of three of those annoying little stickers used during EKG monitering; you know, the sort you seem to continue to find on odd places of your body days later. Then, a pulse-and-oxygen monitering clip is placed on your forefinger. As the time ticks down to the procedure an IV catheter is inserted, hopefully in a tolerable location as it will have to remain in until your next treatment. Arms, hands, feet: these are all viable options for placement, it is in your own best interest to have convenient vein access so as to avoid the more unsightly insertions like the neck.

Immediately before the procedure begins the administering psychiatrist presents himself beside my bed, pulling beside him a small machine atop a cart. The machine has two handheld electrodes attached by cords, the electrodes look rather like large black play pieces from the boardgame Sorry. I can see that one of the drawers in the cart is labeled "Bite Blocks", and there is a large plastic bottle full of a clear blue gel - presumably a sort of ultrasound gel.

Nearly as soon as he enters, the psychiatrist pulls my peach-colored curtain, shielding me from the view of other patients, who are in various stages of preparation or recovery. As he does this he smiles at m and inquires about my mental state. I assure him that I am holding on okay despite the med drop, all of this taking place in a matter of seconds. He doesn't seem too interested in conversation or questions as the anesthesiologist and a nurse enter bedside. The nurse states my name and the procedure to be done, and everyone present including myself expresses that we are in agreement to initiate the treatment. Then a brown, rubbery, foul-tasting "bite block" is placed in my mouth and the anesthesiologist begins pressing a syringe of propofol into my IV as the nurse holds an oxygen mask over my face. "You will begin feeling sleepy soon" says the anesthesiologist, still squeezing the contents of the syringe into my vein. "I already am" I mumble, my speech impeded by the presence of the bite block as I begin to slip away.

I first noticed the regaining of my conciousness about half an hour later, realizing that the psychiatrist and the machine were both gone. There was an oxygen mask strapped to my face. The nurse beside me told me that I reported earlier in the recovery from the anesthesia "I'm not under, I'm not asleep yet", apparently having thought the procedure had not yet started, although it was already long over.

The nurse also told me I had been "chatty" coming off the anesthesia, which she claimed was a good sign as it indicated less depression than did silence during recovery. After that I was to be known as "Chatty Cathy", not to mistake the fact that my name is not actually Cathy.

So went my first ECT treatment.