Tag: treatment resistant depression

Happy Anniversary

A Scarlet D2 Comments

Today is the first anniversary of my suicide attempt. In just this past year alone I have:

  • done an inpatient stay
  • a partial hospitalization
  • an intensive outpatient program
  • started ketamine therapy
  • a full course of ECT
  • had a VNS surgically implanted
  • started DBT
  • applied for disability.
  • Spent 75+ hours in therapy
  • Spent 96+ hours in group therapy
  • Changed medications at least a dozen times

(And a huge thank you and I love you to my wife. She was by my side for all of that.)

Three years ago last week I attended my first PHP, essentially marking this major depressive episode’s official start, though it was growing for months.

I have a wide variety of feelings this weekend. Hope is not high on the list, but I suppose it counts for something that it is on the list.

It’s been a long three years.

The Pain of Progress

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Forever ago I found a cable knit sweater at Target. It was mustard colored and I loved it. It fit well, and it just had a sense of comfort. I went back and over a few weeks collected as many colors as I could find. Blue, green, beige. Sad I never found a red. The off white sweater was one size larger than the others but that made it even comfier.

I wore it all winter. I wore it to work and I wore it at home. In the summer I would find the lamest excuse to wear it. When I went into the “grippy sock jail,” aka hospital it was one of the few items of my own that I had.

Wearing that sweater gives me comfort and security. It was armor and it was what I knew.

Depression, for so long, feels like that too. It still makes me want to die, but it is also familiar, something I know, and at times, something that keeps me warm.

Last week, I visited my sister, who lives in a kind of remote paradise. My daughter was living there for part of the summer, and some of my trips purpose was to help my daughter move back home. It was an amazing visit. I spent time with my daughter, but also with my sister and her wonderful family. I took walks, I sat on a porch and read, and just sat there appreciating peace. I wrote about my childhood and about canoe trips, in an actual book.

I had two days of.. Nothing. Depression and anxiety weren’t there. At the end of these days I would be so exhausted that I could feel them, but it was only as I was going to sleep.

The closer I got to home the more the anxiety grew, and the depression poked its head out. Remembering that I had nothing to be, except broken.

“Getting better” has always scared me. So this development is very overwhelming. I worry that people will see me being more alert and active, and think “Great, he’s better now!” I worry the life I awaken to will be so very different from my old life. I will have to recreate myself, learn who I am and how I live my life.

I do know that I have more energy, but that a lot of it goes to wearing my “human face” and interacting with others. Ironically, the better I look, the better I’m putting on a good show. It feels a bit like I’m just going back to the time I was depressed but able to convince others I was fine. Back into the sadness closet.

I’m not there (“Better”) yet, obviously. It’s a long road. And I’m still not sure how I feel about walking that long journey. Or even if I’m willing to.

VNS: A vein in the neck?

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I forgot to add this to the last post, but it’s a bit of an update on my neck scar from the VNS. Both scars are fading nicely, and the chest scar is really getting light. My neck is a little bit redder, but I’m guessing that’s from collars and everything else that abuses it. Assuming it’ll come along eventually.

I do find that driving long distances the seatbelt hits my chest device square on, and the belt also runs right along the neck scar. They’re not so much as tender anymore, but over a couple hours it starts to be uncomfortable. So I’m resorted to either adjusting position, which is not easy, or not using the strap. It ends up feeling like the old days, when all you had was a lap belt and mom smoked in the car.

Some of my inner electronics

What’s interesting though is that you can see and feel some of the electronics. The connector is a small bit of wire which is wrapped around the Vagus nerve. It’s then doubled back upon itself and run to the device implanted just below my collarbone. The nerve connection is a little lump at this point and not only can you see it (not a zit) but you can feel it. Which is a little odd feeling.

There is something called Twiddler’s Syndrome, which is when a patient fiddles with their implant (pacemakers have this issue also) enough that the fiddling causes something to not work right anymore. It could be a lead coming off, a wire wearing through something, etc. So I’m being careful not to mess with it much. It’s a pretty rare syndrome, but my anxiety is quite aware and mindful of the issue.

You can also see the wire leading from the connection to the device. That one is a bit more subtle, but there regardless. At rest you really don’t see it at all.

As far as the scar is concerned, I don’t think about it much anymore. It’s the beginning of summer, which means t-shirts instead of collars and sweaters, so it’s out in the open. I don’t think people notice it much, and if they do they’re not saying anything. Because it’s not scary looking like in the beginning, I don’t try to hide it or anything. Although if someone asks and the timing it right, I’m going to say I got it in a knife fight. And you should see the other guy!