Shaking Hands With the Bogeyman

Those of you who follow us on social media will no doubt have noticed our recent absence of about five months or so. Well, the unfortunate reason for that unexpected hiatus was the relapse of Gloria’s dreaded depression.

I still can’t believe it happened again.

Following her miraculous recovery in early 2020 from her very first severe depressive episode that lasted three long and painful years, Gloria has been in fantastic health and spirits.

Better than ever, in fact.

So of course it came as a great shock to everyone when her depression once again reared its ugly head out of nowhere to derail her life for a second time.

And it came back with a vengeance. Just as severe as her first episode, if not more so. On a scale of 1 to 7, her psychiatrist categorised her condition as 6 – Severely ill.

This time around however, we were fortunate in that we knew right away exactly where to go for the very best possible care. But even so, it still took about four dark months of medications, treatments, two hospitalisations, and lots of pain and worry before finally seeing any light.

Unlike Gloria’s first depressive episode, this time it really had her brilliant doctor scratching his head. All the medications he threw at her didn’t even make a dent. Luckily for her, she tolerates them all very well, even in big doses.

But anyhow, long story short – after trying different treatments, by the grace of God, Gloria once again made a full recovery. It was a much tougher grind this time around, and it didn’t happen overnight like last time.

But happen, it did.

And even better, it did so in time for Gloria to celebrate a lovely Christmas with friends and family.

It was more than we could have hoped for.

We both just feel so grateful and blessed to have access to such amazing doctors and healthcare services here in Australia. It’s something we don’t ever take for granted.

Mental illness is a very scary and very debilitating thing, and without such top notch care I have no idea how we would have been able to manage. I can’t even imagine.

But this blog post actually isn’t about depression and mental illness.

Well, it is and it isn’t.

What it is about is a valuable life lesson that I learned through the drama of caring for Gloria through her two severe depressive episodes.

I wanted to write this story as I believe it can help bring hope and courage to others who find themselves in similarly tough situations.

Situations that have them feeling vulnerable, uncertain and fearful.

So let’s begin by rewinding back to late 2019.

Gloria was deep into her first ever depressive episode, and pretty much at the end of her rope after almost three years of unrelenting, severe depression. She had seen several psychiatrists and psychologists during that time, all of whom were absolutely powerless to help her.

They were in over their heads.

Seeing no way out of her predicament and unable to continue on with her life, Gloria ultimately made the unthinkable decision to end it at that point. She later wrote a blog post about the whole thing, if you’re interested in reading about it.

Thankfully, Gloria was unsuccessful in ending her life. I found her in her room about five hours later and she was taken to hospital by ambulance.

Because of the injuries she’d sustained, she was first put into a general ward at the hospital to heal under 24/7 suicide watch. She would be there for a total of seven days.

Enter the Bogeyman

Because Gloria had tried to take her own life, she was what’s referred to here in Australia as a “scheduled patient”. That means she wasn’t allowed to leave.

Even if she wanted to.

If she tried, the hospital security and/or the police would scoop her up and drag her butt back. For her own good. It’s kind of like being under arrest, without having committed any crime.

And that was a really scary place to be.

At least, it was for me.

Aside from the uncertainty over what the future held for Gloria following this tipping point in her depression, what her loss of freedom meant in the short term was frightening.

After almost three years of medication and/or therapy, both of which proved totally ineffective for her, would she now be forced to undergo Electro Convulsive Therapy (ECT)?

Would we have any say in the matter?

The hospital advised us of her legal rights, which allowed her to refuse ECT if she so chose. But that was little comfort to me. Gloria was so depressed and suicidal at that point that she didn’t care one way or another.

To make matters worse, the hospital’s consulting psychiatrist strongly recommended it.

He explained that ECT had come a long way since the dark old days, how it was now far safer, more efficient and better tolerated. He said that he would have no hesitation in recommending it to a family member if they were in Gloria’s shoes.

I wasn’t convinced.

The mere thought of doctors putting an electric current through Gloria’s brain was terrifying. Scenes from the movie, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest played through my mind.

To me, ECT was the Bogeyman. And here, this doctor was suggesting we unleash him on Gloria. As for Gloria, she was happily agreeing with the whole idea.

I felt like I was the only sane person in the room.

The Bogeyman’s Den

A few days later, Gloria was well enough to leave the general hospital ward. That meant she was to be transferred to the psychiatric ward.

That process is to this day one of the scariest and most intimidating experiences of my life.

When we got the call that Monday at 2:00pm, we walked out of Gloria’s hospital room to be greeted by two hospital security staff in uniform and a nurse. Gloria took her position in the nurse’s wheelchair.

As we head off, one of the security staff keyed his shoulder mic and spoke.

“Ward nine alpha escort underway.”

I felt like I was part of some military operation. Serious stuff.

From the ninth floor ward our little detail made its way across to the very opposite side of the hospital, to the psych ward down on the ground floor. It was a long trip.

Very long.

I was thankful for the nurse being there with us. She made conversation with the security guys the whole way, which kept the atmosphere somewhat lighter. Neither Gloria nor I uttered a word the entire way.

As we approached the psych ward, we walked down a cold, wide, totally featureless corridor that felt about fifty metres or so long. It was partitioned by big, heavy, solid wood security doors every ten metres or so with electronic security locks.

Each door was probably strong enough to stop a car.

The final segment of the corridor had two doors on either side with small, blacked-out windows. The signs on the doors read, Treatment Room 1, Treatment Room 2, and so on.

These were clearly the ECT treatment rooms, and walking by them sent shivers down my spine. This was it. This was where the Bogeyman lived.

In my mind, it was almost like some scene from a horror movie.

Dodging a Bullet

In the end, Gloria would only spend a couple of days in that hospital’s psych ward. After doing some research, we decided that a private hospital would provide a far better level of care for her.

So we transferred her to a private psychiatric hospital, where she was allocated a wonderful doctor who still looks after her to this day.

Through his experience and wizardry he was able to put Gloria’s depression into total remission within seven weeks, using medications alone.

It’s a gross understatement to say that Gloria was over the moon.

And I felt like I could breathe again. A huge weight had finally been lifted.

Despite the fact that all of the doctors I had spoken to about ECT only had positive things to say about it, I couldn’t help feeling a big sense of relief at not having to put Gloria through it.

We had eluded the Bogeyman, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Back in the Fight

Last year when Gloria suffered a relapse of her depression, we were both in disbelief.

But that’s life. Sometimes it just throws you a curve ball.

Sitting around feeling sorry, and wondering why and how weren’t going to get us anywhere. We had to play the cards we were dealt.

It was what it was.

Like it or not, we went back to war.

Her relapse started innocuously enough, with a few mild but troubling symptoms. We were lucky enough to get an appointment with Gloria’s psychiatrist pretty quickly, thanks to someone’s cancellation.

He immediately put her back on medication. Armed with a few prescriptions and a battle plan, we were instructed to come back to see him in six weeks, at which time he hoped Gloria would already have started feeling better.

But unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way.

Not by a long shot.

Within just two weeks, before the meds even had a chance to take effect, Gloria was already severely depressed and acutely suicidal once more.

Within a few days we were back in her doctor’s office, shocked and dismayed. Her desperate state was immediately obvious to him, and he had her admitted to hospital the very next day for treatment.

Given the speed of Gloria’s deterioration, her doctor suggested ECT as an option if she wanted to get better as quickly as possible.

There was that ominous term again. Back to haunt me.

Neither Gloria nor I had any interest in that alternative at he time though, and his suggestion went pretty much ignored by both of us. Deep down, we were both banking on the medication working its magic, just like it did last time. Even if it meant having to tough it out a little longer.

On top of that, this time Gloria would be receiving another treatment concurrently, Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). This would improve her chances of a quick and complete recovery even further.

Despite my deep concern, I was also cautiously optimistic.

After four weeks, Gloria couldn’t tolerate hospital life any longer and begged to come home.

By then her TMS course had just been completed, but some of her medications were still in the process of being brought up to full dosages. Although Gloria’s condition had only slightly improved, there was no real need to stay in the hospital. So she left.

She went back to work to keep occupied, though it was far from easy.

As the weeks ticked by, her condition slowly improved. There were encouraging signs, but also disappointing ones. After a while I stopped feeling optimistic when I noticed any small improvement. Inevitably, each time they were followed by setbacks.

Then, in mid-October, Gloria’s depression crashed.

It was heartbreaking.

She was pretty much back to square one.

It became obvious at that point that the cocktail of medications she was on – in big doses, I might add, simply weren’t working.

I tried to stay hopeful.

Gloria’s doctor still had some ideas in mind for alternative medications. And more TMS was also an option. So all was not lost.

Not yet.

But I was getting really worried.

I knew Gloria couldn’t keep this up forever, she was in serious turmoil.

And I knew that changing track with her medications now would mean more long weeks, possibly even months, of agony for her before she could expect any relief.

I kept reassuring her that we still had options up our sleeve and she’d be fine. But part of me couldn’t shake the possibility that all this may well be leading to us to having to resort to the unthinkable.

ECT.

The Bogeyman.

I tried to focus on all the options that could save Gloria from that fate. But they were kind of wearing thin. We were way too close for comfort, as far as I was concerned.

I also couldn’t help considering the even more terrifying possibility that maybe even ECT wouldn’t work.

Heaven forbid.

The Bogeyman Returns

As Gloria and I once again sat in her doctor’s office, weighing up the way forward, decisions needed to be made.

Her doctor and I were in agreement that at that stage, another course of TMS would be the best option.

But Gloria disagreed. She couldn’t bear the thought of yet another extended stay in hospital, potentially yielding little or even no results. She wasn’t having it.

She told her doctor she wanted to bite the bullet and do ECT.

Her doctor was happy to arrange it for her. He referred her to a colleague who was a highly-regarded ECT expert.

I was in disbelief.

I couldn’t believe that we had actually reached that point. Here we were, finally face to face with the dark cloud that had loomed over my head since 2019.

Face to face with the Bogeyman.

I had to pinch myself to confirm that this was actually happening.

As the days ticked by to Gloria’s date with destiny, I prayed that by some miracle her medication would somehow suddenly start taking hold.

A Hail Mary.

A stay of execution.

But it never came.

A Date With Destiny

Admission day finally arrived and there were would be no second chances.

It was a new hospital, under a new doctor, doing a new treatment. Everything was new, everything was unfamiliar, and everything was scary.

Throughout the admissions process, I watched everyone carefully when discussing the fact that Gloria was there for ECT.

I looked closely for their reactions. Would they betray their concern over what she was about to undergo? Would they treat her like someone who needed to be pitied?

Should we be worried about this?

But I saw no such signs. These people were all very professional. They all made it seem as though it wasn’t a big deal.

I appreciated their nonchalance.

It would be a couple of days before Gloria’s ECT treatments would start in that new hospital. I visited her daily. And each time, on the way to her room, I would pass by the dreaded ECT suite.

The Bogeyman’s den.

It sent shivers down my spine every time.

Guarding the entrance to the suite was a large, frosted glass sliding door. It was always closed, and I dreaded what horrors it could possibly be concealing inside.

Right at the top of the front wall to the suite was a narrow panel of clear glass. It revealed part of an electrical piece of equipment inside. I always wondered what it was, but I had no idea. I could only imagine. What I did know was that it was something electrical, so it was scary.

I was always very anxious on Gloria’s treatment days, but the fact is, everything went just fine. No problems, no side-effects.

Even so, walking past the ECT suite still creeped me out each time.

After four treatments, Gloria was allowed to come home and finish her course as an outpatient. Of course, she was very happy about that. It meant driving to the hospital three times a week for her treatments, but that was no problem.

It wasn’t like we had anything else to do anyhow.

Inside the Bogeyman’s Den

It was several more treatments before Gloria began suffering from the expected memory side-effects from the ECT. They were sometimes quite severe, but mostly temporary.

I had questions I wanted to ask her doctor, which would mean sitting in with him and Gloria during one of their post-treatment meetings.

Inside the ECT suite.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like in there.

Standing at that frosted glass door waiting for it to open for the first time felt both surreal and nerve-racking.

Inside, however, it wasn’t the least bit what I was expecting.

As I sat in the treatment recovery room with Gloria and a handful of other patients, the atmosphere wasn’t at all intimidating. On the contrary, it was actually light and cheery.

And the ECT nurses were absolutely lovely. Very friendly and caring.

I noticed the ominous piece of electrical equipment that had caught my attention from outside the suite each time. It was just a transformer from a light – or something like that. Something totally harmless. That made me chuckle.

I couldn’t help thinking what all the fuss over ECT had been about. It had all been in my head after all. And what I had envisioned as the dark, frightening Bogeyman’s den was anything but.

Over the following days Gloria’s treatment began working its magic, and she steadily improved. Little by little.

I visited several more times to speak with Gloria’s doctor, and therefore got to know a few of the other patients. Each visit became somewhat of a social event for us all, sometimes including the nurses.

There was always lots of joking and laughs. They usually involved funny stories about Gloria and the other patients’ memory loss incidents. Pretty dark, I know. But funny nevertheless.

On one occasion, one of the patients was virtually in tears over all the laughter.

Shaking Hands With the Bogeyman

When Gloria’s quest with ECT began, I could never have imagined that it would turn out the way it did. The Bogeyman wasn’t real after all, but just an illusion. An illusion born out of fear.

Fear of the unknown.

At the end of the day, ECT gave Gloria her life back, and she’s now back to her happy, healthy old self once again. So I now consider it a friend rather than an ominous foe as I once did.

It’s amazing when I think back at all the angst it caused in me the past. Needlessly.

I’ve taken the time to learn all about it. About how and why it works. So I now understand it and have made my peace with it.

Marie Curie once said:

I think that’s very true.

Following this latest ordeal with Gloria, there’s now one less Bogeyman in my life. One less thing that I fear.

That’s because I was forced to face it, accept it, and understand it.

What was once one of my darkest fears is now something I not only understand but also believe in.

That’s a valuable lesson for all of life.

The first step to overcoming anything that scares you and causes you pain is to become familiar with it. Learn what you can, and understand it deeply.

Do it as soon as you can.

Because until you do, it will continue to have power over you.

I know that understanding something scary doesn’t always automatically make it go away. But it will at very least make it far less imposing and more manageable. Without fail.

As Sun Tzu, the Chinese military general, strategist and philosopher said:

By knowing your enemy, at best you can overcome its influence entirely, as I was lucky enough to do with ECT. And at worst, you make it less intimidating to deal with.

I don’t believe there’s any enemy in life that can’t be weakened by taking the time to understand it better.

Because doing so shatters the fear of the unknown, which can be a crippling thing.

As they say, knowledge is power.