Throwing something back…

I haven’t written a blog entry in several weeks. The recent depression has taken me in, blurring the borders of days, and blurring my thoughts even more. But, light is beginning to seep in… and my thoughts are beginning to form.

In the midst of this last depressive episode, my grandfather passed away. I somehow felt this loss harder than I was willing to allow myself. It was as if I had allotted myself a given depth of sadness to feel and I surpassed it. Having gone farther than I anticipated into my grief, I felt alone and closed- no true way to communicate the sadness and grief. I can say that my relationship with him was a complicated one. Once very attached to this man, then he disappeared in my youth, and his actions, though he was gone, followed me like a scarlet letter denying me family rights. Add into the mix that my son is his little twin, the grief gets deep and his death makes it final. But, each day is a step of moving forward.

And I am now left with the question of do I write or do I go. I have so much more to explore and share about my motherhood journey at diagnostic code 295.7. But, I let myself disappear. Nonetheless, for now, I think I will write.

Pressing me right now is the cognitive disorder that has developed as a result of the schizoaffective disorder. I continue to take Namenda (an Alzheimer’s medication) and I see progress, but I also witness decline in other areas. I recently visited my psychiatrist and a resident sat in on the appointment. My case was of note of interest. As I am someone who once taught at the collegiate level, it is of interest to explore the decline in function that this disease can bring about before age forty.

I realize something, though, and that is perspective. Many before me did not have the option of drugs like Namenda… I do. And while the disease battles on, so will I… even if I have to take a break from writing now or then. The disease will give me everything its got, its my choice to throw something back.

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The State of Being Shocking

I woke up from what seemed to be a vivid dream in a room that was foreign to me. I looked around and the only thing familiar were a few items of clothing on the nightstand. I slowly crawled out of bed and walked to the hallway to be greeted by a red haired man with a stethoscope. He knew my name and I assumed he must know what was going on. So, I asked him where I was. He explained that I was in Denver, Colorado (not the state I lived in), that I had entered a fugue state after my last treatment of electro-convulsive therapy (ECT) and driven my car to Denver, and now had frontal lobe brain damage from the ECT treatments. And the thing was, I could not remember any of this. In fact, the previous three years were pretty much gone.

From what I have been told, at the end of the Summer of 2005 I entered into a severe depressive episode. This episode escalated into a quasi-catatonic state. My husband had to help me dress, eat, and engage in basic daily life tasks. My treatment team found me to be medication resistant and ECT was suggested. After a consult with a psychiatrist that performs this procedure, he also agreed to this course of action. Next, I received eleven bilateral ECT treatments before my unplanned Denver trip.

But, there is one other issue with this treatment. The psychiatrist performing the ECT was concerned early on that my electrical shock induced seizures were not strong enough to be beneficial for my illness (Schizoaffective Disorder). He augmented my treatments by going beyond the recommended voltage for the bilateral shocks. Whether this contributed to my fugue state or my frontal lobe damage, I will never know. I do know we signed a waiver before the treatments started, so the issue is rather mute.

Furthermore, the ECT didn’t seem to help alleviate the depressive episode. When I was finally released from the Denver hospital and returned to my New Mexico home, I was re-hospitalized within two weeks for suicidal ideation and depression. Eventually, the episode cycled and medication began to assist me. But, I also have to state I have hospitalized since then, as well.

What the ECT did impact was my memory and also changed some aspects of my personality. The three years I mentioned earlier are still pretty much gone. I really only have a few moments recovered. And now that my Schizoaffective Disorder has led to a Cognitive Disorder, my memory is even shakier- including long term, short term, and working memory. Everything from spelling to daily tasks to conversations are impacted. I describe my long term memory as the “Nixon Tapes”… it goes along, then nothing. As far as my personality, some of my preferences in music were completely and abruptly altered. Also, certain behaviors developed, such as gum chewing. In addition, my “mental filter” is sometimes non-existent. Want to know my opinion? I may give it to you with some profanity for good measure.

Some have asked me if I regret agreeing to receive ECT. And I do not. I have no regrets. Schizoaffective Disorder is very difficult to treat. You have a blending of Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder. Sometimes, there are risks to take. And unfortunately, not all risks pay off. But, you do at the time what you think is going to help in your desperate situation.

I also have to look at the positive side. Yes, I have frontal lobe damage. Yes, my memory function is impaired. But, my frontal lobe damage is not so severe that I cannot be a wonderful mommy to my beautiful boy. It is not so severe that I cannot be a life partner to my dear husband. I’m still here… home with my family.

My Brain is Failing Me

I receive the questions periodically…

“When will you finish your doctorate?”

“Are you going back to teaching in the future?”

“When are you going to work again?”

The fact is, I have made peace with not finishing my dissertation and, therefore, never have the initials Ph.D. after my name. I have also made peace with the reality that my future does not include teaching again or any other career. I consider myself to have entered early retirement from my career as a college professor and I have done the mental work to accept my shift in status as I embrace my life as a stay at home mother.

Why?

A major portion of the answer to this question is that my brain is failing me. Or, I have entered into what is technically termed as cognitive decline or impairment and the diagnosis of Cognitive Disorder has been added to my records. This is very standard for someone living with a schizophrenic disorder. One’s immediate working memory in conversations or tasks becomes impaired and unreliable. Remembering conversations from the previous day (or earlier that same day) is highly difficult. Following conversations can be overwhelming. The ability to follow through on tasks without a detailed list becomes impossible. And so much more as it progresses. Basically, the simpler… the better. And the less stress… is even better.

In order to contain the progression, my medication cocktail has been augmented to include a medication that is commonly utilized for Alzheimer’s patients. Being 38, it feels rather surreal. But, I look at my toddler son and the importance of trying this medication therapy becomes very real. He is not quite two years old, I have many years left to enjoy his laughter, smile, shining eyes, sweet hugs, and I must try anything at my disposal.

In addition, if becoming more realistic about my needs stress-wise and also simplifying my life are needed in order to preserve my health as best as possible for my child, husband, and myself, then that is what I must do.

So, becoming a stay at home mother… shifting my status… becoming more realistic… While it has been a true adjustment, it is a must for my health and a must for my future as a wife and mother.