Thanksgiving with the Relatives

It's Thanksgiving, and my uncle is saying goodnight to everyone because he has to get up early (3 am) for work.

He's walking around the front room of his house, shaking hands, and he comes up to me, grabs my hand, says, "I don't know you---," pauses, "Hey, I changed your diaper."

Right in front of Joseph, who was sitting next to me.

Yep, it's the holidays.

Moments of Possession

The scary thing is,

I don't know why I took the lithium. I just did. It's like the disorder has a mind, a consciousness of its own, as if I'm possessed by an illness that I periodically loose control over.

The devil took my hand and led me astray for a few moments as I tipped the bottle up, and down my throat they came.

Worried About Drinking

"Do I need to be worried about your drinking?" The therapist asks.

"No," I reply.

A couple of shots never killed anyone. Joseph is driving me nuts. His nervousness is palatable through his emails and calls.

It's only dinner. My uncle is an alcoholic, so he'll just sit and drink. My grandmother will probably be the sole one who will talk to him, short of my parents.

Me? I'm thinking of getting drunk--or close to it.

Wondering About Last Moments

There were only three of us in the PACU for ECT this morning. I was second in line. It has that industrialized feel--the doctor rolling the machine around, bed to bed.

Every time I go under, I wonder if I'm going to wake up again.

I'm sure the anesthesiologists (resident and attending) are bored with the assignment. It's simple, routine. There are heart monitors, cuffs for the blood pressure. You breathe into a mask. Perfectly safe.

Still, I always ponder if these will be my last moments on earth, drugged, surrounded by doctors in some warehouse at Stanford.

They put me down, but couldn't bring me back up.

College?

The ECT doctor (double doctorate) told me not to register for college, that I needed a program more "flexible"--advice I'm not taking.

I'm currently enrolled in two classes for next semester--calculus and "Intro to Novel." I don't need the English class, but I'm taking it anyway.

One of these days, I plan on finishing my undergraduate degree.

Beck

Today, Part III

There's a large, tall bottle of Grey Goose sitting on the kitchen counter, ask me how happy I am about that.

Glee growing inside my soul like a vein flooding.

The Great Alcohol Debate: Co-Enablers

So, it's evening, and I'm pouring myself a glass of Belvidere (not my favorite vodka, but I don't have much for options), and Mom walks into the kitchen.

"You can't have alcohol," she says.

"I'm just going to have one drink," I reply.

"You can't because of your medications," she continues.

Dad overhears the whole conversation.

I add a little orange juice to the glass, and take it over to the couch, and sit down.

Mom goes back into her bedroom, where she stays for the night.

I down the drink quickly, and place it on the floor, empty. I start typing on the computer in my lap, not paying attention to Dad, who is heating up dinner.

In a little while, he walks up to me, with his finger up to his lips, and an orange-colored drink in his hand. He gives it to me, and goes back to the kitchen.

My Mother About Joseph

"Trust me, after thirty years of marriage, everything else wears off," My mother says, explaining her bias towards Joseph.

My Friday

On Friday, I had to wake up at one am to get on the road at two am for Palo Alto. My appointment for ECT was at six thirty am.

Mom had to drive me since I'm not allowed to drive for three weeks (from the date of my last intensive treatment). She got even less sleep, as she was up from midnight--but she was allowed to drink coffee. I couldn't have anything by mouth past 12:00am.

"Keep talking to me, I'm getting sleepy," she kept saying while we were on the road.

I did my best to entertain her for close to four hours.

We discussed the fact that if we had the disposable income, we would drive up the day before and spend the night in a hotel.

We arrived at the patient registration desk at six am. The third floor of the ambulatory surgical center was filled with people waiting for op's and their families.

After one of the ECT nurses grabbed me, and took me back, everything was the same as it has been.