Yesterday I had my fourth ECT session.
Thus far, the side effects have been minimal compared to the benefits. Yes, I did have muscle pain, but it is less intense now than a week ago. I do have headaches. I also do have minor short term memory loss.
My hands and are bruised and my lower lip has a deep bite. However, this is due to anaesthetic and not the therapy.
On the upside, I am no longer suicidal. I can see the flaws in my argument that I simply could not see ten days ago. I, once again, have the most basic human instinct - survival.
Today, I am grateful to God for medicine and medical intervention. My psychiatrist is an angel. Whilst the anaesthetist was digging for a vein, she was holding my hand and stroking my hair. I am grateful to God for this wise woman and her gentle spirit. I am grateful for my friends who cooked for me in this time or bought me frozen meals or offered to do so. I am grateful for friends who get up at 4 AM to get me to the hospital in time. I did not and do not deserve any of this and am truly humbled.
Should you want to know more about ECT's, please click here and follow the link. Electroboy became the posterboy for treating bipolar disorder with Electro Convulsion Therapy.
Tomorrow I'll have the fifth session and on Friday the sixth, and for now final.
I expected the entire process to be intrusive and much worse. Tonight, all I feel is gratitude...
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Saturday, February 06, 2010
My dark passenger
I love Dexter. If you do not know Dexter, here is a short synopsis: Dexter lives in Miami and works at the Miami Police as a blood spatter analyst. However, Dexter has what he calls 'a dark passenger'.
See, Dexter is a serial killer. BUT he kills according to Harry's (his stepfather's) code. The 'victim' must have killed before and there must be proof that he intends to do so again. The 'victims' are often the guys who fell through the cracks in the justice system.
I have my own dark passenger. No, I am not a serial killer, but sometimes there is this cold darkness in me and in my mind. To confure you and me, it is not necessarily depression and tears. Sometimes, it is a lot of energy. Sometimes I forget I am an introvert and I start talking to strangers. I get adventurous, laugh alot... and then I crash.
I thought about my passenger today and I need to say this more to myself than to you - I am not my dark passenger. I am still me. Every day is a fight to keep this passenger in his place. I will do all it takes to manage him, but I am not the dark passenger.
I am still me. I am still here. I still have hopes and dreams. I still believe in God and community. I still have friends, whom I thank God for, because they have seen it all. I am standing - for now. May God have mercy on me and on my friends.
See, Dexter is a serial killer. BUT he kills according to Harry's (his stepfather's) code. The 'victim' must have killed before and there must be proof that he intends to do so again. The 'victims' are often the guys who fell through the cracks in the justice system.
I have my own dark passenger. No, I am not a serial killer, but sometimes there is this cold darkness in me and in my mind. To confure you and me, it is not necessarily depression and tears. Sometimes, it is a lot of energy. Sometimes I forget I am an introvert and I start talking to strangers. I get adventurous, laugh alot... and then I crash.
I thought about my passenger today and I need to say this more to myself than to you - I am not my dark passenger. I am still me. Every day is a fight to keep this passenger in his place. I will do all it takes to manage him, but I am not the dark passenger.
I am still me. I am still here. I still have hopes and dreams. I still believe in God and community. I still have friends, whom I thank God for, because they have seen it all. I am standing - for now. May God have mercy on me and on my friends.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
I am not bipolar...
... I just happen to HAVE bipolar disorder. I have read "Bipolar for Dummies" over the past 10 days and for the first time a lot of what is going on in and around me makes more sense.
According to the author, bipolar disorder can be latent and won't necessarily rear its head at all. It is similar to having a fair skin - you need to wear sunscreen and preferably stay out of the sun in order to protect yourself.
Thinking back, I know when I first met the monster. It was during a carnival in my second year at varsity. I served on the SRC and we were asked to arrange a carnival on a piece of land the University of Johannesburg (then Rand Afrikaans university) gave the Seminary. I worked so hard on my part, but the rest of the team simply did not come through.
The fun run was a disaster, the volley ball contest did not happen and instead of 100 stalls, we had 8. One of them sold lingerie. This was a big no-no in the pentecostal tradition and even more so when you are 19 years old and in the early days of a relationship. You know, when you still blush when you are just holding hands?
That afternoon, I decided to go and hide underneath a table in the tea garden and I did not ever want to come out again. That was the start of my first depressive episode.
Again, being pentecostal, studying to be a pastor and depply influenced by John G Lake & Smith Wigglesworth, I could not explain what was happening and was just relieved when it was over and I could tackle the next project, working almost day and night. The more I think back, the more I am flooded with memories and I can clearly see ups and downs. Ups and downs like everybody experience, but just so much more intense.
I believe that I have finally been diagnosed correctly. I believe that I have to manage this monster, or it might manage me. This includes regular exercise, enough sleep, healthy meals and the dreaded medicine. It implies that I have to work with my psychiatrist, whom I like to think of as a consultant. I will use every tool available to me, e.g. a mood diary and research available. I will keep asking questions and for the rest of my life, I will have to keep the monster at bay.
Yet, I am not bipolar. One of our lecturers used to say that you are more than the sum total of what happened to you. I am more than the sum of what happened to me. There is more to me than bipolar disorder, even though my regular meds and forced adjusted lifestyle shoves it in my face at least 3 times per day.
I do not know how God decides who should have it. I do not know if He gives it. I do not know if he allows satan to dish it out. What I do know is that I still want to want to love Him. I want to experience His presence and His comfort when my heart wants to break for seemingly no reason. I wanr to be with Him when my mind races and I can visualise all the little wheels in my head spinning. I want Him to be there when I have a 'runaway train' idea.
I am not bipolar. I am just a confused child of God, battling to make sense.
According to the author, bipolar disorder can be latent and won't necessarily rear its head at all. It is similar to having a fair skin - you need to wear sunscreen and preferably stay out of the sun in order to protect yourself.
Thinking back, I know when I first met the monster. It was during a carnival in my second year at varsity. I served on the SRC and we were asked to arrange a carnival on a piece of land the University of Johannesburg (then Rand Afrikaans university) gave the Seminary. I worked so hard on my part, but the rest of the team simply did not come through.
The fun run was a disaster, the volley ball contest did not happen and instead of 100 stalls, we had 8. One of them sold lingerie. This was a big no-no in the pentecostal tradition and even more so when you are 19 years old and in the early days of a relationship. You know, when you still blush when you are just holding hands?
That afternoon, I decided to go and hide underneath a table in the tea garden and I did not ever want to come out again. That was the start of my first depressive episode.
Again, being pentecostal, studying to be a pastor and depply influenced by John G Lake & Smith Wigglesworth, I could not explain what was happening and was just relieved when it was over and I could tackle the next project, working almost day and night. The more I think back, the more I am flooded with memories and I can clearly see ups and downs. Ups and downs like everybody experience, but just so much more intense.
I believe that I have finally been diagnosed correctly. I believe that I have to manage this monster, or it might manage me. This includes regular exercise, enough sleep, healthy meals and the dreaded medicine. It implies that I have to work with my psychiatrist, whom I like to think of as a consultant. I will use every tool available to me, e.g. a mood diary and research available. I will keep asking questions and for the rest of my life, I will have to keep the monster at bay.
Yet, I am not bipolar. One of our lecturers used to say that you are more than the sum total of what happened to you. I am more than the sum of what happened to me. There is more to me than bipolar disorder, even though my regular meds and forced adjusted lifestyle shoves it in my face at least 3 times per day.
I do not know how God decides who should have it. I do not know if He gives it. I do not know if he allows satan to dish it out. What I do know is that I still want to want to love Him. I want to experience His presence and His comfort when my heart wants to break for seemingly no reason. I wanr to be with Him when my mind races and I can visualise all the little wheels in my head spinning. I want Him to be there when I have a 'runaway train' idea.
I am not bipolar. I am just a confused child of God, battling to make sense.
Therapy session 2
This morning I had therapy session 2/6. It was really horrible.
When I woke up, fresh from the theatre, I felt smothered by a mask that was just too close to my nose and mouth. I started kicking in an attempt to get the recovery staff's attention. They only noticed there was a problem when I started crying.
Safely at home and going to sleep now. Tomorrow I'll deal with my sore muscles and prepare for Friday's session... 3/6.
When I woke up, fresh from the theatre, I felt smothered by a mask that was just too close to my nose and mouth. I started kicking in an attempt to get the recovery staff's attention. They only noticed there was a problem when I started crying.
Safely at home and going to sleep now. Tomorrow I'll deal with my sore muscles and prepare for Friday's session... 3/6.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
The morning after the day before
Yesterday I had a little intrusive therapy. Afterwards, I thought it was a total non-event. I had a headache and a little muscle pain (or stiffness, almost like when you did not cool down properly after a workout), but nothing to write home about.
This morning, however, is a different story. I do not think my neck and shoulders were this sore, not even when I had meningitis. Yesterday my doctor gave me permission to go to gym today and sort out some of the muscles and muscle pain. I pray that something help for my neck and shoulders. It feels like I am pinned to my bed and can hardly get up.
We had a well-known South African writer, called Dalene Matthee. She wrote novels and was best known for the 'forest-trilogy'. The forest people never referred to elephants as elephants, because then the elephants would think they are being called and trample the people. Instead, they referred to them as 'big feet'.
This morning, it feels like the big feet ran all over me and tomorrow is treatment 2/6.
This morning, however, is a different story. I do not think my neck and shoulders were this sore, not even when I had meningitis. Yesterday my doctor gave me permission to go to gym today and sort out some of the muscles and muscle pain. I pray that something help for my neck and shoulders. It feels like I am pinned to my bed and can hardly get up.
We had a well-known South African writer, called Dalene Matthee. She wrote novels and was best known for the 'forest-trilogy'. The forest people never referred to elephants as elephants, because then the elephants would think they are being called and trample the people. Instead, they referred to them as 'big feet'.
This morning, it feels like the big feet ran all over me and tomorrow is treatment 2/6.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
When God is not in my quiet time
Last night I attended our weekly meeting. Being a little hypomanic, I talked a lot more than usually and shared things I would usually rather not.
At one stage we were talking about how we hear God. It drew my attention away from just meeting God in my quiet time and reminded me that He talks through other people, music, and even my own body.
Today I met God in a psychiatrist's room. If you have been following this blog, you know by now that I developed a bisarre facination with going to sleep forever. OK, suicide.
In my previous post I rambled down the list of do's and don'ts. Despite all this, I am in a mixed episode and can fluctuate from being ecstatic to the deepest depths in seconds. I managed to get a 'cancellation appointment' with my psychiatrist after an email conversation yesterday.
Today I met God in her rooms. She was so kind and listened and answered patiently. She listened to my (seriously skewed) theory and then explained a counter-theory and reminded me that the most basic instinct is to survive. She changed my prescription again and we agreed on further therapy that is a little more radical.
To you it might sound like the run of the mill consultation, to me, it was seeing Jesus. I heard Him in her concerned voice when she asked if I'll be OK. I saw Him listening to my crazy plans. I heard Him counselling me. I saw His love.
I wonder where He'll be tomorrow.
At one stage we were talking about how we hear God. It drew my attention away from just meeting God in my quiet time and reminded me that He talks through other people, music, and even my own body.
Today I met God in a psychiatrist's room. If you have been following this blog, you know by now that I developed a bisarre facination with going to sleep forever. OK, suicide.
In my previous post I rambled down the list of do's and don'ts. Despite all this, I am in a mixed episode and can fluctuate from being ecstatic to the deepest depths in seconds. I managed to get a 'cancellation appointment' with my psychiatrist after an email conversation yesterday.
Today I met God in her rooms. She was so kind and listened and answered patiently. She listened to my (seriously skewed) theory and then explained a counter-theory and reminded me that the most basic instinct is to survive. She changed my prescription again and we agreed on further therapy that is a little more radical.
To you it might sound like the run of the mill consultation, to me, it was seeing Jesus. I heard Him in her concerned voice when she asked if I'll be OK. I saw Him listening to my crazy plans. I heard Him counselling me. I saw His love.
I wonder where He'll be tomorrow.
The runaway train
At Gold Reef City (a theme park in Johannesburg), there is a ride called "The runaway train". It is basically a few carts, running real fast on a rail. I think the fear factor is increased by the name.
We want to be in control. We want to be in charge. I know I do. I do not want runaway trains, trucks or cars anywhere near me for fear of what they could do. Yet, there is a runaway train in my head and this morning I am going to see my psychiatrist to help me stop it.
I am not depressed or crying all the time, quite the contrary. I am joking, have LOTS of energy, go to gym, am creative, do my job and do it well, but I latched on to this idea that it would be better if I cease to exist.
Today I am grateful for friends who are close enough to see my runaway train(s) and who can talk me off the ledge.
Bipolar disorder is a crazy disease, but it is a disease. It is terminal. It is going nowhere and it requires close management.
I feel like the pharisee who prayed out loud in the temple, saying what he does right and embarrassing the beggar every time I rumble down the list of things I need to and cannot do: I sleep enough, I eat healthy, I go to gym 5-6 times per week, I do not use caffeien or alcohol, I do not consider using any other drugs and I take me prescribed medicine as prescribed. Yet, sometimes I have a runaway train and all I can say this morning is "God have mercy on me, a sinner".
If you want to learn more about biplar disorder, I can recommend a 40 minute DVD called "Living with Bipolar Disorder" or a book called "Bipolar Disorder for Dummies" (I have read a lot about bipolar and this is the single best resource in my mind).
We want to be in control. We want to be in charge. I know I do. I do not want runaway trains, trucks or cars anywhere near me for fear of what they could do. Yet, there is a runaway train in my head and this morning I am going to see my psychiatrist to help me stop it.
I am not depressed or crying all the time, quite the contrary. I am joking, have LOTS of energy, go to gym, am creative, do my job and do it well, but I latched on to this idea that it would be better if I cease to exist.
Today I am grateful for friends who are close enough to see my runaway train(s) and who can talk me off the ledge.
Bipolar disorder is a crazy disease, but it is a disease. It is terminal. It is going nowhere and it requires close management.
I feel like the pharisee who prayed out loud in the temple, saying what he does right and embarrassing the beggar every time I rumble down the list of things I need to and cannot do: I sleep enough, I eat healthy, I go to gym 5-6 times per week, I do not use caffeien or alcohol, I do not consider using any other drugs and I take me prescribed medicine as prescribed. Yet, sometimes I have a runaway train and all I can say this morning is "God have mercy on me, a sinner".
If you want to learn more about biplar disorder, I can recommend a 40 minute DVD called "Living with Bipolar Disorder" or a book called "Bipolar Disorder for Dummies" (I have read a lot about bipolar and this is the single best resource in my mind).
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Soulwork
When our community changed over to the new rhythm (i.e. meeting on Wednesday / Thursday), we committed to weekly soulwork.
For tomorrow I need to memorise 1 John 4:19: "We love because he first loved us." I was also supposed to think and ask, everytime I do something 'for God' if I am doing it out of love or to earn His love.
I know the verse and it puzzles me. I do not feel right now. My EQ is gone and I do not find myself in the shell of my body. I also find it really hard to find God in anything.
As much as I would like to say "I did it all because I love Him so much" and "I know He first loved me, He even gave His life for me before I knew I was a sinner", I cannot.
I am (still) in St Theresa of Avila's camp: "I want to want to love Him". I really want to rekindle the flame of that first love, but today I am clueless as to how.
For tomorrow I need to memorise 1 John 4:19: "We love because he first loved us." I was also supposed to think and ask, everytime I do something 'for God' if I am doing it out of love or to earn His love.
I know the verse and it puzzles me. I do not feel right now. My EQ is gone and I do not find myself in the shell of my body. I also find it really hard to find God in anything.
As much as I would like to say "I did it all because I love Him so much" and "I know He first loved me, He even gave His life for me before I knew I was a sinner", I cannot.
I am (still) in St Theresa of Avila's camp: "I want to want to love Him". I really want to rekindle the flame of that first love, but today I am clueless as to how.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Why?
Today I am trying to think of a reason to carry on.
I do not have 'official' dependents, i.e. a spouse or children. In all fairness, I am not sure that a reasonable person, knowing they have bipolar disorder, would tie another life to theirs. At one stage I was passionate about adoption and I would really love to be a parent, but what does a single parent do with a child if you have a manic / depressive episode?
For the past ten days I have been on Lithium. This implies that I can no longer donate blood. I am one of those people who do need the occasional recognition and could visualise my name on the scroll of people who donated 200 units or more and I was well on my way with 58 donations. Instead, I now have quivering hands.
According to my psychiatrist, a manic/ hipomanic or a depressive episode causes actual brain damage. The synapses die and your brain need to form new paths.
I am actually starting to feel slow and stupid. Before all of this, I could read a few books per day with full comprehension and passed both of my degrees cum laude (even with extra subjects like Greek & Hebrew up to honours level). Now, it take me weeks to read a simple book and I have to keep referring back to make sure that my understanding is correct.
When I think about my relationships in general, they have not evolved or grown deeper over the past year. I think quite the contrary. Actually. I think I became a liability rather than an asset.
So, I do not think I will find the cure for cancer. I won't find a way to stop and reverse global warming. I might never write a book (another dream that is fading fast).
At best, I will have an ordinary life with minimal manic/hipomanic and depressive episodes. And then I am back at my question, why prolong this? Why should I carry on?
I do not have 'official' dependents, i.e. a spouse or children. In all fairness, I am not sure that a reasonable person, knowing they have bipolar disorder, would tie another life to theirs. At one stage I was passionate about adoption and I would really love to be a parent, but what does a single parent do with a child if you have a manic / depressive episode?
For the past ten days I have been on Lithium. This implies that I can no longer donate blood. I am one of those people who do need the occasional recognition and could visualise my name on the scroll of people who donated 200 units or more and I was well on my way with 58 donations. Instead, I now have quivering hands.
According to my psychiatrist, a manic/ hipomanic or a depressive episode causes actual brain damage. The synapses die and your brain need to form new paths.
I am actually starting to feel slow and stupid. Before all of this, I could read a few books per day with full comprehension and passed both of my degrees cum laude (even with extra subjects like Greek & Hebrew up to honours level). Now, it take me weeks to read a simple book and I have to keep referring back to make sure that my understanding is correct.
When I think about my relationships in general, they have not evolved or grown deeper over the past year. I think quite the contrary. Actually. I think I became a liability rather than an asset.
So, I do not think I will find the cure for cancer. I won't find a way to stop and reverse global warming. I might never write a book (another dream that is fading fast).
At best, I will have an ordinary life with minimal manic/hipomanic and depressive episodes. And then I am back at my question, why prolong this? Why should I carry on?
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