Month: June 2017

The past few days have been very difficult. I am almost completely off of my anti-depressant and I feel it (need to go off of it and then wait 2 weeks before starting new anti-depressant). I have been extremely irritable and anxious. I have had brief moments of brightening, especially yesterday when I picked up my daughter from the camp bus stop. As we drove home, I blasted “Dancing Queen” and we sang at the top of our lungs. That was a good moment.

I was definitely not looking forward to today’s infusion. During the infusion, I was more “with it” and felt part of my surroundings. When the nurses and doctors talked to each other, I could hear them and felt I was in the room with them. It was the last 10 minutes or so, though, when the tears flowed and I felt alone and terrified. All of the negative thoughts that I have on a daily basis were magnified X1000. I sobbed thinking the terrible things I think of often they were just swirling in my brain all at once: I am a terrible wife, my husband chose the wrong woman to be with, my beautiful daughter is losing out with a mother like me, I do not deserve to feel better, and so on…

I was relieved when the infusion machine beeped signifying that I was done. As I came back to myself, the nurses kept checking on me, cleaning away my used tissues and reassuring me. I felt better as the minutes passed and was happy to be done.

The plan is to have one infusion next week and one the week after, to make up for the two weeks without an anti-depressant. As of this exact moment, I feel better, more aware, focused and my mood is definitely a bit elevated. Of course, I have little stress to fuel my negative symptoms today as I am home and on my own schedule for the rest of the day.

And so it goes…

I was not looking forward to today’s infusion, but again, I am holding on to hope so it was worth it. Today’s experience was slightly different. I felt more aware of my surroundings than in my prior infusions but the last 10 minutes or so were similar to before. I cried and felt isolated and paralyzed. I could see the people and surroundings around me but I felt completely separate. That terrified me. Luckily, the nurse was right there for me. Even as the infusion ended and my IV was taken out, I continued to cry, feeling nervous and scared.

As I came back to myself and had something to eat, I felt more stable as my head became clearer. My husband and I then met with the doctor. We discussed my progress and the necessary med changes. He gave us some options and I will be trying a medication class I have not tried before. I left the meeting feeling a spark of hope. I am eager for this change but it involves slowly tapering off of one of my medications and then waiting 2 weeks before starting the new one. The next few weeks may be difficult. It is only now, in this moment, that I see that I will get through this transition…there is no other choice. My therapist and my doctors at Yale are right there with me and even though I still can’t feel it, I see them. Their experience and expertise have guided me thus far and I trust them implicitly. Most importantly, my husband is right there beside me and I know I am very lucky.

I will have one more infusion on Tuesday and then the medication changes will continue. I am nervous about the next few weeks, but since I have already come this far, I can make it through this.

I had a few days where I felt clearer, more with it and actually part of life. It felt good. I wasn’t “cured” as my mood was not greatly improved but it was certainly a difference. By Saturday late in the day, however, I started to feel more out of it and the past couple of days, while I have felt more in touch with my surroundings, I have felt more sad and irritable. I went in early this morning for my treatment and reported all of my updates. I was not necessarily looking forward to today’s infusion but the prospect of feeling some relief was my motivation.

Again, as the heaviness hit me, the tears flowed. I became frightened as I felt so alone. While the ketamine enters my brain, it forces me more into the bubble I already feel stuck in. I see everyone around me, hear voices and sounds and can make sense of them, but I feel cut off and as if they cannot see me. I asked the nurse for tissues and she asked if I was ok. I responded asking her, “am I okay?” She touched my arm and said, “you are okay. I am here with you.” While that made me cry more, it was the most comforting thing to hear in that moment.

I then started thinking of my beautiful daughter and was focused on her face. I missed her. I also thought of my husband and how much I wished he were sitting with me holding my hand, reassuring me. I thought of the conversation I had last night with my therapist who told me that she and my other doctors are there for me, in it with me. I cried more. I focused on the fact that I would see her tomorrow. I reverted back to thinking of seeing my husband once my treatment was over. I cried more.

The infusion ended and I was relieved. I drank water and ate some graham crackers and watched my blood pressure decrease (the ketamine increases it). I was a bit wobbly as I walked to the waiting area to my husband but was so glad to see him.

I go back for infusion #5 on Thursday and then we will meet with the doctor to discuss long term plans. This will involve medication changes as there are actually some meds I have not yet tried! For now, it is one day at a time.