Magnetic Attraction

I’ve done a lot of things today that cause me anxiety (hello University and the saldo of my bank account), so what could be a better moment to finally do one more: tell people what’s going on in my strange head at the moment.

At first I need to apologize once again. I haven’t been able to do pretty much anything since, well… since the year turned, I guess, and now it’s August. My sense of time is gone. I crashed pretty hard and had to drop everything - my studies, my thesis, my friends, my martial arts, my teaching, and finally even my job. Now I’m trying to once again pick up the pieces and see what can be salvaged. It’s exhausting. The last few years have been nothing short of nightmarish in the field of my mental health.

What’s wrong with me then? As you might remember, I’m bipolar, and lately I’ve been in the grip of a crippling depression that’s lasted for years. I also suffer from severe anxiety and have PTSD, which causes its own problems from panic attacks to uncontrollable shaking. Add to this my spine which is basically fusing its vertebrae together (if I stop moving and taking my meds, that is exactly what will happen) and several other lesser concerns with my health and social relationships and what we end up with is the human wreck that I currently am.

I still haven’t given up though, I’m going through psychotherapy (again/still) and I have a small army of mental health professionals trying to figure out what to do with me short of locking me up (that’s been on the table too). Right now I’m at the tail end of a month-long treatment regime where they’ve been trying to set my brain straight with magnets. As you might recall, they’ve poked at my head with electricity and several different modes of therapy before, and since the ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy) took a heavy toll on my memory (which perhaps caused more problems than it fixed), the doctors thought that they’ll zap me with something a bit more benign this time.

TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) doesn’t have any of the severe side effects that ECT has, you don’t need to be anesthetized during the treatment and it’s advertised as a “painless” treatment. Well let me tell you that painless it is not, at least not for me. In other ways it is a lot more hassle-free, but the first two weeks I felt like someone was either stabbing my eye with a hot poker from the inside of my skull or that I was getting root canal on all of the teeth in my lower left jaw simultaneously. The treatment cycle lasts for approximately a month and I’ve received it five days per week about half an hour at a time.

The treatment is given in a chair that is suspiciously reminiscent of a dentist’s chair. At first the nurse or doctor glues this sensor on your face and then pokes your head with a metal stick, drawing marks for the camera that follows the sensors on your face and in their hand. The camera looks a lot like a slightly concerned, benevolent alien hovering over you and trying to figure out what kind of fascinating little animal you are. With the sensors and the alien camera (and in my case, also previously taken MRIs) they can pinpoint the location where the magnetic stimulation will be directed to.

When they’ve made sure the magnetic coil is in the right place, they start with the impulses: a few seconds at a time followed by about twenty seconds of rest. Apparently my facial nerves are weird and this pain-free treatment is usually everything but pain-free, but it’s manageable. The hospital where my treatment has been given gives you the option to try to watch TV at the same time to distract you from the root canal, which basically has just made me really hate daytime TV with a passion. Still, it could be a lot worse. Compared to the ECT it’s a walk in the park.

During treatment the pain levels vary massively. Sometimes it’s the stabby stab to the eye and sometimes it’s like someone’s lightly scratching your scalp. The weirdest part is how it somehow scrambles your brain and makes it impossible to focus on any one thought. It’s like your thoughts are in freefall. It resembles the weird semi-dreaming state when you’re just about to fall asleep and your brain is firing impulses and images all over the place but nothing really makes sense. Quite a trip.

After treatment I’ve had some headaches but compared to my usual migraines they’ve been light. The scrambled thoughts follow you for a while after the treatment is over, but it’s nowhere even close to the state after ECT when you can’t really remember who or what you are. A few minutes sitting in the cafeteria helped me to collect myself and I was allowed to go home without a chaperone. After ECT I wouldn’t have known where I lived, after TMS I could find the right tram stop after only some light confusion.

Well, has it worked? I think it’s too early to tell, but I’m trying to set myself up for success and kind of pretend it works and see if it sticks. I still have three treatment sessions to go through, but I’m ending my sick leave and trying to get back to, well, life one small step at a time and see how it goes. I might write another entry after a couple weeks and try to analyze how my mental state has evolved. Right now I’m mostly just confused and slightly apprehensive and very anxious, trying to channel it all into hope somehow.

So now you know what I did last summer. Here’s to hoping it works.

Treatments 8-11 and onwards

Alright, it's over. At least for now. I very much feel like Luke Skywalker after an encounter with the Emperor - thoroughly electrocuted, more than a little battered and mostly just utterly confused. In addition to the severe problems with my memory, the treatment did affect my emotional side (but then again, I believe that was the idea): these last days I've been mostly just fighting back either maniacal laughter or hysterical tears without much in the way of a pause in between.

I mean it. Those of you who know me well are aware of the fact that I am quite emotional, but this is getting ridiculous. Only today and yesterday I've been crying aloud at at least the following:

• an 8-year-old insanely talented boxer girl
• a cat who loves to be thrown on a bed and repeatedly comes back to ask for it
• all of your lovely comments on my Facebook status and several priceless private messages, because let's face it, I love you
• the picture of Cthulhu being awoken from his slumber and utilizing his "snooze" function in irritation (flattening the insulting cultists with his hand)
• the picture of something called Dead Man's Fungus, which basically looks exactly like a zombie digging its way up from beneath the ground
• a piece of news about some accursed idiots robbing archaeological sites with the help of metal detectors (okay, these were more like tears of rage)
• several pictures of animals who are too cute for actual existence
• a Bull Terrier who's getting fed mouth-to-mouth by a little girl and who are both obviously incredibly attached to each other (and the dog is being indescribably gentle)
• Justin Trudeau's mere existence (he's awesome and I'm frankly extremely envious at Canada)
• a letter written by a 5-year-old boy to apologize for stealing a piece of Petrified Forest National Park while returning the stolen piece ("I am only five years old and made a bad mistake" BAAAAAHHHH)

But then again I have been laughing myself silly as well, for at least at the following:

• the picture of an axe with the text DO IT printed on it and an accompanying comment which states that this might not be the wisest thing to print on an axe
• my son who's turned into quite a chatterbox in two languages in the past few days, and who's enjoying certain pretty tough Playstation and iPad games at an age where most kids are figuring out 10-piece puzzles
• that picture of Brienne and Tormund and specifically Tormund's facial expression
• Trillian the cat almost setting her Foster Dad John's house on fire (but FDJ telling the story in a characteristically hilarious way)
• all those pictures of animals which didn't make me cry, for example of an ostrich eating peanuts wearing a maniacal expression, and a picture of three very sweet but very different dogs, one of whom is very thin and kind of endlessly confused
• a Siamese fighting fish called Taistelujaska II

So yeah, if you run into me in the next few days or weeks, you can expect to see some emotion. Please try to remain calm.

Physically I'm doing pretty good, except for that battery. I mean, I even look like I've been wrestling a troll. My left arm is still very much bruised and a couple of treatments ago I actually woke up to the screech "TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF THAT, MADDIE!" echoing in my ears, which turned out to be a very timely warning about not yanking my anesthesia catheter off and probably tearing my vein in half in the process. I guess that's the main reason why I'm so blue and black - I've probably been pulling at my tubes without realizing it every time I've started to wake up.

Well, my neck and head are doing a bit better: I can deal with them with the assistance of normal pain medication now. My jaw has stopped hurting, thank all the available deities -that was the very pinnacle of insufferability- as have all the other most annoying muscles like the ones between my ribs and the ones in my throat.

My cognitive abilities... are still a bit worrying. The Fog of Confusion is as thick as ever, and the problems with my memory are still there (for example, one of the things I had completely forgotten was what I had written about in this blog before this entry - I could remember nothing of the previous texts and even these electrocution entries had disappeared from my mind, minus their general subject) in addition to troubles with most of the visual data I've ever memorized. All the problems I've already mentioned still exist. It's still very tough, not getting any easier - but I'm still hopeful. At least this is over now and if my memory is going to fix itself, it will probably start now.

Another funny effect I noticed today is the fact that since my memory is now faulty, I take everything "as is" - meaning that if you talk to me in a nasty way, my automatic response is that you're always like that, even if this is the first time you've ever lost your temper. It of course also works the opposite way: you might have been a complete prick throughout our common history, but if you talk nicely to me now, that's the only thing I'll remember. Might I suggest you pay attention to this? I could actually even be grateful for some gentle hoodwinking when it comes to people who might have been nasty to me before (not that I expect any of you have).

The one thing that's filling me with hope is the energy I'm feeling. It might not even be available for use yet, but I can feel it sparkle underneath the surface. I'm going to do everything in my power to fan those sparks into flame, although it might take a while. The flipside of it is that I'm constantly feeling extremely jumpy and concentration is even harder to come by than before, but I'm sure I can learn to channel it properly with some live-action training. I still feel like a stranger in my own head, but I guess things can only look up from now on.

So - the only way is up, right? Into the dawn!

Friday 13 May 2016 - Treatments 6+7

Oh good gods. It's getting worse on all fronts. The only thing that's not getting significantly worse is my left hand, which is actually getting a tiny little bit better, as the oldest holes are starting to heal. It's still black and sore but I didn't wake up all bloody today and I think I can move it a bit better than earlier. Rest assured, I'm counting my blessings where I can.

What's happening inside my head and heart is a bit tougher. The missing memories are starting to be a real problem. Whenever I think I've gotten used to the gaping holes in my memory, it's time for another treatment and it gets worse. They also doubled the electricity dosage today (and the treatment is going to continue with the bigger dosage from today on), so that has some clearly visible effects, both physical and mental. I mentioned my infernal headaches at the hospital and they decided to try to fight that with intraveneous pain medication, which seems to have worked pretty well. And it's a good thing it did work, as today there appeared a new physical effect following the larger electricity dosage, which would've been absolute agony combined with the headaches: the muscles in my jaw are completely frozen up and I can't open my mouth more than a few millimeters, and even that's painful as all hell. I can't really speak. Yawning makes me want to cry.

The memory stuff isn't exactly getting easier either. Today I've been excavating my memory for stuff that it should be impossible to forget (but I've always enjoyed doing the impossible, haven't I), for example how and when I met some of my closest and best friends. I sure hope that stuff comes back to me at some point, because right now I can't find a bloody thing, and that's slightly worrying. Even the things I do remember feel like they've happened to someone else.

I'm also experiencing a very special kind of general anxiety that's very hard to shake and which probably has something at least partly to do with the memory problems. When I had made my way home today (with the lovely assistance of my Mother, once again), I tried to get some sleep but couldn't right away, since my heart kept trying to jump out of my chest. It took some serious budoka / yogi / singer skills to force my heartrate down so that I could nod off.

What made sleeping even more difficult was the barrage of emotions I experienced in addition to the general anxiety. I tried to calm myself down by watching some animal videos and photos on Facebook (thank you, my lovely Eläinvideokerho, the best available therapy) but the effect was pretty much entirely the opposite: every fucking thing made me cry. Aloud. With big, wet, tears. Every status update, every link and sure as hell every picture and video of an animal was for some reason so damn touching that I started to weep, especially the ones that were actually happy. I had to give up on that after a while, as when it comes to calming myself down, that was pretty counterproductive. What made sleeping even harder was the fact that every single little noise I heard made me almost jump out of my skin.

Well, little by little the exhaustion overtook me anyway, so I fell asleep. That's when the real strangeness started. The dreams were once again so bloody weird that I can't even describe them very well, but let it be said that all the anxiety, panic and jumpiness I felt while awake had nothing on the feelings I was drowned in while asleep. Another strange effect of this whole thing is that my nightmares create terrible half-memories which mingle with the sad and odd remnants of my actual memories: the end result is a bunch of terrifying, anxiety-inducing and so very, very sad memories, which feel very real but a closer look tells me that nothing of the kind has probably ever really happened (my little sister hasn't been abducted by aliens as far as I know and my child is alive and well and playing in the other room right at this very moment, etc.). The vividness of the nightmare memories combined with the fogginess of my thoughts in general creates a solid mass of very authentic-feeling but infinitely nonsensical and confusing memories, which I have no way of telling apart from actual memories.

Well, it's not all pain and terror: the cats have once again been glued to me, all of them, all the time, and somehow I feel like the kid has been an angel today (not that I remember how he usually behaves, but nevermind). I also have the most amazing friends and loved ones a person could ask for: really, you guys are terrific and a true blessing. I hope I can one day pay back all the support I'm getting - I sure as hell intend to try.

Friday 6 May 2016 - Treatments 4+5

This just keeps getting harder to deal with, all of it. Especially the memory loss is reaching ridiculous proportions, and the treatment days are spent more or less in their entirety in the throes of a nightmarish headache. My left hand is now completely black, it had bled profusely on my bedsheets after Treatment 4.

The whole memory thing is a bit hard to describe, really. Let's see... I have a bunch of memories from last week, but I have no way of telling which ones are actual memories and which ones are just fever dreams - all of them have one thing in common, and that's this incredibly strong feeling of... unreality. Logic tells me that some of my memories must be real, but that's as far as logic takes me. If I try to take a closer look at those half-memories, all of them start to feel as unreal as the next one.

Another really funny feature is that I keep forgetting how to do stuff. How do I use our microwave oven? Where do I keep my make-up? Right, now that I found it, how do I use this thing again? How do I take a photo with my phone? This is stuff I could do in my sleep, except that apparently it isn't.

I've also been reading a book for the last week (Risto Isomäki: The Sands of Sarasvati). Please don't ask me what it's about, since the book I've been reading is probably quite different from the book the author wrote. My mind attaches itself to things it knows -in this book archaeological and marine archaeological themes- so I have a few ghosts of memories concerning those themes and pretty much no clue about anything else the author might have written about.

In addition to this, I have also stopped recognizing pretty much every single fucking thing I own. I just spent quite a long time going through my clean laundry and wondering when I've had the time to procure all these pieces of clothing I could swear I've never before seen in my life.

So: I've forgotten everything I previously knew. But in addition to that, nothing sticks in my mind anymore either - it's like I've lost the ability to memorize things. I really hope this is the worst this thing is going to get, and I REALLY hope things are going to start looking up soon, because I really wasn't prepared for this. I feel like a stranger in my own head, and it's no big wonder at all that this therapy isn't really recommended for everyone. I need to constantly remind myself not to panic, and my days are spent in a fog of confusion. It's a good thing I'm kind of adventurous or I wouldn't be going back there again.

Hold on to your memories, people. You never know when you're going to lose them.

Monday 2 May 2016 - Treatment 3

Ooookay. I might have been laboring under the misapprehension that I'd get used to this memory thing. Well, nope. Nope, nope, nope. If anything, it seems to be getting worse. My mom picked me up again this morning, which I know because she also brought me back. That I can remember. No memories whatsoever of what actually happened in the morning. I have some few vague memories of sitting outside the treatment room at the hospital reading a book, hearing my name called, staring up at the same oxygen mask, which I think was actually put on my face this time around, and then... I have some memories from the room where I supposedly woke up, but they are so strange and nonsensical that I think they are actually parts of a dream. Then I teleported into the juice-and-cookie room (sure can't remember walking there) and sat there for a while wondering who I am and what I might be doing there... Until I remembered that I was supposed to tell... someone... when I can leave.

Couldn't for the life of me remember whom I was supposed to inform, but my logic circuitry is still at least half operational, so I dug out my cell phone and went through my sent messages to get a hint of some kind. Ah yes, last time it was Mother, so that's probably how it's supposed to go down this time as well. Then nothing again until I'm sitting in my Mom's car and realize I have a pounding headache. We get home after a bewildering journey, we might as well be driving through Mars for all the places I recognize. Again, I know I'm supposed to know these places, but the visual data I'm receiving rings no bells whatsoever.

There are more surprises in store for me when I open my front door. There's a tiny furry creature waiting for me on our doorstep, which is quite astonishing. We have a cat? Ah yes, I guess we do. Wait, we have three cats?? We've had them for seven years? Well, I'll be damned. This time around I head straight to bed when I get home. I'm hungry too, but the headache, confusion and tiredness win this round. I sleep on and off until around 8 PM, when my headache finally starts to abate and my head clears a bit. We take a short walk outside with the family, which feels nice but also serves to remind me of all the bits and pieces of my body that currently hurt. Like, every single muscle in my body. Also my left hand, which is starting to resemble Swiss cheese from all the holes the catheters have left behind.

The walk around Hakaniemi was as bewildering as the drive home from the hospital. I'm pretty sure I've stared at the same graffiti for years, but I could swear I'd never laid eyes on them before. All the tiny little stores I pass every day were new. It's hard to adequately describe the feeling when logic tells you that you know this shit like the back of your hand, but your eyes are treating everything as new information. Let's hope tomorrow feels a bit more normal.

I'm still hopeful, though. I mean, if this whole treatment can scramble my brain this badly, maybe it might actually nudge loose some stuff I'd do better without.

Friday 29 April 2016 - Treatment 2

This time I'm a lot less nervous going in, which turns out to be a premature reaction. I'd love to tell you how cool and collected I was with the receiving nurse this time around, but there's a problem with that: I can't remember a fucking thing about coming to the hospital. I have a very light whiff of a memory from when my mom picked me up to go to the hospital, then I remember staring up at the oxygen mask for maybe half a second, and then... Nothing before waking up. Logic tells me that the room I woke up in was the exact same room as last time (the ward is not large), but it was a completely foreign place to me. Also I could swear I was alone in there the last time around, but now I have a feeling (not an actual memory, but more like something out of a barely remembered dream - in fact I'm not at all sure whether all these half-memories aren't pieces of a dream and not memories at all) there were many beds, maybe as many as... four? Five? But that can't possibly be right. Maybe it was a dream. Well, I can remember the first thing I thought of when I woke up. It was one word: Friday. Turns out failure stings even when your brain is all scrambled. Some things never change, do they.

The mock memories from the cookie-and-juice room feel foreign as well. It had to be the same room and the same corridor, but all of it had this very dreamlike, unreal quality. At the time of writing this I can't remember any details, all the memories I have are more like feelings or confused states of mind. Very hard to put into words, and alarming as all hell. One of the weirdest memories I have of that place is when my hair suddenly swung in front of my face and I experienced a moment of utter surprise and confusion when I saw that my hair was blue. When did that happen? (The day before yesterday, actually. I just couldn't summon the memory at the time.)

Still, the whole hospital episode has nothing on the journey home. My mother and stepfather pick me up again, and we drive through Alppila and Kallio, my hoods for more than ten years - and it's like driving through a strange city in a foreign country (on a remote, unknown planet). I don't recognize any of it. Again, the logic engine in my brain tells me that I've lived here for almost half my life, I should know these places, but none of what I see rings even a dim, remote bell. Everything is strange, there are no patterns which I recognize.

Now, all of you who know me know that patterns are one of my superpowers. That and remembering pretty much everything that's ever happened to me, every conversation I've ever had (which is not always a blessing, I'm telling you, but it is a handy tool in an argument - no chance to throw that old "but you SAID---" thing at me). I literally feel like I'm in someone else's head right now, that this amnesiac is not me, it can't be. My husband has been asking me surreptitious, memory-probing questions all day ("What was this book about? Who wrote The End of Eternity? Who was the main character in this movie?") and even when I can dig out the correct answer from the depths of my poor bewildered brain, which is maybe 20% of the time, it's damn hard work. Like literally digging through layers upon layers of earth to find even a glimmer of a memory. It's a good thing I'm an archaeologist in training, digging through filth is what I do.

Even our home feels strange. What are those jackets doing on that chair? Was that wall that color this morning? What's all this stuff in this box? It feels like walking through a childhood home you moved out of a long time ago, when someone else has been living in there for years. The layout is familiar but everything else is strange. This effect fades a bit after taking a meager five-hour nap (dead tired again, not as much appetite as last time but also not the aversion to food I normally feel), but everything still feels a bit like a dream. Unreal, somehow.

To be honest, I can sort of understand Hemingway after today. Don't worry, I'm not going to off myself like he did, but as another person whose existence revolves around memory and clear thought, I can understand the anxiety and panic this sudden insanity induces (although whether the treatment he received was the cause of his suicide remains debatable). I can also understand now why Alzheimer's patients tend to be generally fearful and angry at the world: nothing makes sense anymore. You know it's supposed to, but it doesn't. It's incredibly frightening and frustrating. At least I know why this is happening and I chose it myself, unlike those poor bastards.

Well, this is supposed to wear off, so here's to hoping. And if I can conquer this depression with a few weeks of utter confusion, it's a small price to pay. Tulta päin!

Wednesday 27 April 2016 - Convalescing

I'm something of an athlete, so I'm used to pain, especially in my muscles. After instructing a haedong kumdo class, I've heard it so many times - I have sore muscles where I didn't even know any existed. Well, try out convulsing (or it might also have something to do with the muscle relaxant, they said), you'll REALLY find some completely new muscles in your body.

For example:

1) Some tiny little muscles at the side of my feet. Totally cramped up.

2) Jerk muscles in between my ribs. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN DOING THERE?

3) I really should've eaten everything yesterday when I felt like it, since now the muscles in my throat that are used for swallowing hurt like a motherfucker.

4) My tongue. Yes, TONGUE. One big, aching son of a bitch of a muscle.

 

Pardon my French, I'm grumpy.

In addition to soreness in pretty much every single fucking part of my body, which makes me feel like I've been wrestling a cave troll, I keep falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Also a novel feeling. I think I'm okayish when it comes to my cognitive abilities, but I wouldn't want to try remembering any dates or strings of numbers right now. I'm less foggy than yesterday, but still not up to par. Well, that's ALSO a familiar feeling, since depression itself messes up the memory and other cognitive functions, so I'm definitely not worse than before the treatment.

 

I'm still feeling hopeful, maybe jumpstarting my brain is exactly what I needed.