Listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers…one of the best concerts, twice, I have ever seen. Highly recommended,
So, I’ve been MIA since Halloween. About spring of 2016, I went to the Christian Psych Hospital, because I am all out of private Medicare days, and this hospital-Pine Rest-does ECT. I have Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Depression, ADHD Depression and PTSD Depression. I hit the serotonin jackpot. Not. But I had 2 courses of 9 ECT treatments in the late 90’s. The first course lasted about as long as this one- 1.5 years. The second course, didn’t last a day. But, we all know why that happened, cough, DID, cough. So, right before Christmas, I was admitted inpatient, denied my swearing coloring books, but a small price to pay, and was set up for a course of 9 unilateral ECT sessions. The last time I had ECT at Pine Rest they did an acute, 12 session, bilateral sequence. I wound up with a brain the consistency of gruel, and a suicide attempt which landed me in a coma in ICU back in 2016. So, about every year, I’ll have to go get ECT. Small price to pay. It works.
I asked the shrink this morning; “How much wattage goes through me?” He said you know one of this little 25 watt Christmas bulbs? Yes. That’s what goes through you. Huh. For some reason I had like Frankenstein size wattage going through me.
So, I got discharged from the hospital so I could spend Christmas with my family. My dad has Cancer, Frankly, I don’t know if this will be my last Christmas with my dad or not. I made it a priority. The hospital did too. Which I appreciate.
Today was no. 6. The world gets a bit brighter every time I get zapped- that is what I call it. You get nono juice, anesthetic. Bite guard, very humane. And it works.
We had a super Christmas. It’s always different when you’re playing for keeps. Like Eminem says, that one shot. Dad’s PET scan was yesterday. He has Bladder Cancer, which can travel to his lungs. But I say nay. Nay nay fluffy. Not getting my dad’s lungs.
When I was in the hospital, I realized hand sewing, embroidering, soothes me. And you get fruits of your labors. I’m not supposed to drive today, but I may go to Joann’s and get some hanky supplies. Make a couple of hankies for dad’s birthday and Valentines day.
I called the bariatric surgery place again. I don’t care if I have to start all over, but my bariatric surgeon calling me, “Fat”, more than once? Not acceptable. You no longer get the privilege to cut on this body. And if you had a boss, but since you’re a doctor, you’re equal to God, so no boss…
My parts have been active, but quiet, December 15th went by relatively smoothly. I haven’t been troubled by any memories, flashbacks, just overwhelming depression.
Daily living activities- I changed my sheets today, I’m eyeballing the shower, and this room, let alone this house, it’s a mess. This is what depression looks like. A mess. A fucking mess.
I’m not calling myself a mess, I’m depressed. There’s a difference. Because I’m not a mess, i’m actually a little more together than your average bear, but I’m still depressed, so I won’t be winning any house frau awards. Or any other awards for that matter. But that’s okay, i’m not motivated by awards. Hell, i’m barely motivated…guess I’ll go back to the swearing coloring book. I’m coloring the word, “Asshole” for one of the nurses. I gave her my Wonder Woman punching Trump t shirt. She collects Swatches. Remember those? I always want a fancy watch, but I short them out, maybe Swatch is the way to go…