VNS: A pain in the neck?

VNS, a few weeks on, and a bit more turned on

Saw my psychiatrist at the Treatment Resistant Depression clinic and he turned my VNS up from .25 to .5 — and this time I can feel it.

I want to mention here that everyone’s experience with a VNS can be different, and any negatives I mention here are how I’m feeling it. It’s not how you’re necessarily going to feel it.

The device fires every five minutes for thirty seconds. When you get it turned up, the side effects might be more pronounced, but ideally you get used to it. In my case, we took a long roadtrip a couple days after we turned it up, and I felt it every single time while I was driving. In normal daily routine, I felt it a lot in the first week or so. That constant prodding didn’t help my anxiety and by the end of those early days I was exhausted. Now, a few weeks along I don’t feel it every time. Often I’ll feel it a little bit, but it’s subtle. But I still feel it a good bit of the time. Depends on how distracted I am. When it’s quiet I feel it pretty much every time still, but it’s less “annoying” than it’s been. So I’m confident I’ll have backgrounded it by the time we turn it up again in a couple weeks.

That said, I have had to use my magnet a bit. A reed switch in the chest part is activated by the magnet, which tells the device to chill out for a minute. After which it starts up again. The roadtrip was for a family event, and I got to see many of my siblings and their families. My wife’s family fills time by talking logistics about whatever they’re going to do next. Or already did. My family fills time with stories. Stories about interesting things we’ve learned, or experiences we’ve had, or most often about our family growing up. So rather than wait 30 seconds if the device was firing (and lose my turn in a discussion), I needed to use the magnet every five minutes at times. Other times I just kept my trap shut and my memory issues erased whatever thought I was going to share, problem solved.

The sensations listed below make it feel like I’m talking right after getting the wind knocked out of me. Not as bad as that obviously, but makes me not want to talk at those moments. One of the concerns was that it would alter my voice (robot voice) but so far I still sound mostly the same. Just a bit softer and a bit like I’m out of breath.

My five C’s, The Sensations

Pool Cue

When it fires, it feels a bit like someone is gently but definitely poking me in the neck with a pool cue. Not sharp, but solid and specific.

Cough

Occasionally I’ll have a cough like when you have a frog in your throat or it’s just a little dry. Doesn’t last long, usually right at the beginning, and it doesn’t persist. It’s like an on off switch. So if I’m having that little cough and I use the magnet to temporarily stop it, the cough stops immediately.

Choke

Imagine having two throats. Your normal one, and another little one on the left side that’s just like a miniature throat. Well when the fob fires, it feels like the little throat is being choked. Still breathe just fine, can eat, etc. But that phantom throat is being squeezed. Hard one to describe.

Cardiac

I haven’t tracked it perfectly, but I have a feeling that I can feel the fob before it fires, with what feels a bit like chest pain, but nothing heart attacky. During the firing I can absolutely feel some chest pain discomfort or compression. But again, more annoying than harmful.

Clamp/compressed

Finally, imagine having a clamp placed on your chest. One side of the clamp is over your left lung in the front, and the other end of the clamp is on your back. And it’s tightened gently but while you’ve breathed out a good lungful of air. So when you try to take a breath it feels like a very small person is standing on your chest. You can still breathe, but taking a full, deep breath is a bit of a challenge.

Mental

So far I don’t know that I’ve seen any improvement. But again, 1-12 months to see any payback. But the constant reminder that we’ve resorted to implanting a tiny little shock machine in my chest can be a little depressing. Rather, fuel for the depression fire.

It’s hard to tell what kind of progress I’m making or how I’m improving. Is it the season, the meds, the ketamine, the DBT (more on that next post), the support of my family, the VNS, the ever changing biology of my body, etc. So I can’t speak to effectiveness just yet, sorry.

Next post: I’ve started a DBT program.

The Scarlet D

We had been talking in PHP about wearing badges that indicated something about ourselves. For some people, it’s fashion, others it’s a behaviour. But these badges allow other people to make assumptions, for better or for worse. I was saying that because I’m candid about the fact that I served in the Marine Corps, I felt I wear a badge that lets people assume my masculinity. As a result, I can do things like knit, cross-stitch, not like sports, etc – things that many would consider “un-manly” but because I have my Marine badge, I can point to it and say “Nope, government certified as manly.”

So I was lamenting that there is nothing to show people we have depression. Just by looking at us (if we have our faces on) they have no idea of the torment we may be dealing with inside. So I offered the idea that we should all wear a scarlet D to let people know we’re depressed. Added bonus that the original scarlet letter was more about shame, and the fact that many people attach shame and embarrassment to depression.

This also comes into play when you’re in a depressive episode but you laugh. Or you smile. Or you look like you’re having a pleasant enough time. The Scarlet D would remind people that even though you look “normal” you’re still suffering inside. There is a feeling of invalidation when you’re seemingly happy but dealing with a bad episode. You worry that your apparent happiness means you’re not depressed anymore – or worse yet that you never were and you were faking it. Depression can make you think funny things sometimes.