More of my memoir. Again, because of contractual obligations, I've had to shorten this chapter.
Chapter 3
Electricity and Benzodiazepines
Months passed, and the harder I struggled, the further I fell. Outwardly, I tried to maintain the appearance of a live human being, but I would find myself unable to follow conversations, to concentrate. All the while, the “I” was hovering, watching, knowing, yet it would not come to the “me’s” rescue. I felt abandoned and alone. Even though my wife was supportive and at my side throughout the ordeal, I would keep the pain and hopelessness to myself as much as possible. It is enormously frustrating when someone you love is in pain and you want to help so much but don’t know what to do. I told myself I wanted to protect her, I didn’t want to worry her, but of course, she could see me falling apart. My psychiatrist suggested shock treatments, also know as ECT (Electro-convulsive therapy). I was absolutely desperate, so I readily agreed. The goal with ECT is to reset your brain to proper working order. Since mine had died, I went through 16 treatments over a period of two months.
Dr. Funderberg had privileges at the Methodist Transplant and Specialty Hospital, and that is where she administered the ECT treatments…in the basement. Although the Methodist is a bright, modern hospital, the room where I was zapped was dark, with the exception of a large medical lamp directly over the table on which I would lay. The nurse, a beauty with a Rueben’s smile and a model’s body, would lead me into the room and hook me up to monitors. After I was wired, Dr. Funderberg, an elderly anesthesiologist would come in and shoot me up with some damn fine drugs. Dr. F would then place a rubber stick between my teeth so I wouldn’t bite my tongue when the jolt came. A few seconds later, the drugs would kick in, and I’d be out. Dr. Funderberg would flip the switch and send electricity through my head, which, I am told, would send my body into arcing spasms. Since I was sedated, I never consciously experienced my electrical body flapping. I regret no one taped those treatments, I am curious to observe my unconscious contortions. Each treatment lasted only a few minutes, and when each of them was over, I would go back to work, a little light-headed physically fine.
After completing all 16 electrocutions, I did feel better…for a couple of weeks. My reset button must have had a fried wire because my brain darkened considerably. My memory grew hazy, and I lost some memories altogether.
It was about this time that other strange things began to beset me. By now I was on probably my third or fourth medicine or combination of medicines, but they were not working. One day my wife and I were grocery shopping, and while strolling through the aisles of the large, brightly lit store, I started to shake, tears began flowing and I had an overpowering sense of dread. I was afraid of what was happening, but most of all I was embarrassed. I left the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle and fled. Confused, my wife followed. She had to drive home because I was too shaken. These attacks began to occur frequently, most often when I was in a store, especially large, well-lit stores. They could also happened at anytime, there seemed to be no definitive trigger. “Panic attacks,” said my psychiatrist, “you have anxiety disorder.” No I didn’t, I thought, I was just being a weak jerk. If I really didn’t believe I was mentally ill, how was I supposed to believe in some bullshit “disorder?”
More pills were prescribed, benzodiazepines they’re called, tiny little wonders designed to keep you calm, to chill you out. Take one or two, and things would settle down. One or two never settled anything down. Soon I was popping 11 or 15 at a time just trying to go unconscious, to escape the bedlam in my head. But the bedlam in my head continued and spread to my body. I developed little tics in my neck, my speech was becoming more hesitant, my hands shook. I wanted to be unconscious all the time. Instead of going unconscious, I went to Paris.
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More Please!
Written by Nick (163 comments posted) 22nd May 2008 | I'm still feeling guilty reading about your misery!!
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Written by mia_ms_kim (1054 comments posted) 22nd May 2008 | I feel terrible for you, though much of this must be behind you now. I wonder if the electric shocks added to your problem, rather than lessened it. This is a painful chapter. I hope relief comes quickly in the next.
Mia  |
Written by Emmuttmax (203 comments posted) 22nd May 2008 | I always find it interesting how people react to my story. There are three main reasons I decided to revisit my past: to try to make sense out of it (there is no sense to it), to help others who may be going through similar circumstances, and, obviously, to write a book.
Yes, Mia, most of what I'm describing is behind me; some will always be with me, but it's very manageable.
Nick, reading about someone's misery helps promote understanding; don't fell guilty.
Peace,
Mike |
Written by Leigh (237 comments posted) 29th May 2008 | | Another fascinating if not exactly easy read. I hope it ends well too. |
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