.......one flew over the CUCKOO's Nest

……….one flew over the CUCKOO’S nest

Life really does go on and on and on. For about three or four years, I somehow managed to keep my head above water. Now having insurance, I was able to get established with a very well-known psychiatrist, Dr. Tracy Gordy. Oh, the stories he could tell about me. I loved him and trusted him. My GUT FEELINGS that surface when I meet new people was validated what I felt about him. I wish I would have been more educated on being an Empath and having mental health issues.

https://www.promisesbehavioralhealth.com/addiction-recovery- blog/the-hazards-of-being-an-empath/ If you are one like me, it would be wise to read articles as I cited above. In fact,

I like him so much – GET THIS – when I would go see him, I would always put on my smiley face and good humor and tell him how great life was, even if I was hanging on by noose. I never wanted him to think he was not doing a good job. Yep, you read that right !!! Talk about screwed up thinking. Years later, we would laugh about things like that.

I can not remember how my day started. I suspect, as most of them did. By working those hours, my day usually would begin about three in the afternoons. Chronologically I can not give you the exact order the next events happened, but they did.

Was it Mania, or was it Depression? Or was it both fighting for first place? It really does not matter because either one or both won the day.

“MOM WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

I was sitting at the kitchen table with a curling iron in hand. I was burning my forearms with the hot iron, and I swear not feeling a damn thing. To this day, I have the scars (not a t-shirt) to prove it.

I do not remember when I did start to FEEL THE BURN, but the ER took me right away. I had 3rd-degree burns on my arms. I was not permitted to leave the hospital. I was transferred to a mental health unit at what was then St. David’s Pavilion. Back in the day, mental health patients were appropriately treated and not the mess it is today. It was a nice place, and your actual doctor would come to see you every day. I remember him looking at me that first visit, and his exact words were, “I am doing just great, don’t I look GREAT?” I wonder where he had heard that less than a week ago. “Sandi, why the hell do you do that?” I got the whole lecture that I was hurting no one but myself. Somewhere deep in my sub-conscience, I knew that I had to have known that. The need to protect him from feeling bad, I am sure, stems from my need to “People Please.”

I had been on medication for a while. This episode was the first indication that I had a tolerance issue. Most often, though, antidepressants stop working for what seems to be no reason. There is no good research that shows why a medication may stop working for someone. Some research indicates that it is less an issue of building up a tolerance and more likely constantly changing stressors and brain factors. It seemed like overnight, I had fallen into that deep abyss of Depression. That hole that leaves you with no ability to reason or, for that matter, even willing to hear anything that might help.

It was at this point Dr. Gordy mentioned the letters “ECT” (Electro-convulsive Therapy), you know, like the film “One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.” I am sure it predates most of you, but it was in 1975 and starred Jack Nickolson. A hilarious movie about a sad subject. Or maybe “SHOCK-TREATMENT is a better way to explain it. https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ect

Had I known then what I do now, I would not have jumped on that bandwagon. I understand that the procedure is done differently now than the 3 different series I have been through over many years. At that time, treatments were set up every-other-day for as many sessions as it took for the Depression to fade. I would remain in the hospital till he felt it was safe for me to go home. At least Dr. Gordy would do my treatments, so I felt reasonably secure in his hands.

I did not know what to expect. An Aide walked me down this really creepy hallway and into a room with a small bed-sitting about stool height off the floor. The first thing I had to do mortified me. “Take out your dentures, Sandi, please.” OMG, do I have to do that? Sorry, can’t take the chance that they will break – wait – what do you mean break? Yes, from the appliance we put in your mouth to keep you from damaging your teeth – well, if you have teeth, we still need to protect your jaw. Oh NO, but HELL NO!! Maybe I shouldn’t do this at all. Can I change my mind? Here put this Xanax under your tongue. It works faster to get into your bloodstream. They gave me about 10 minutes of off-the-wall conversation and asked me if I was ready? Okay, I put my teeth in a container, they placed an IV line in my arm and said “Goodnight”!

The next thing I knew, I was in another hospital-type bed in another room. The first thing I asked was for my teeth back. I woke up dazed and confused and stayed that way for most of that day. My jaw was sore – like I had been clenching my teeth for a week straight kind of sore.

There was a woman there that became my friend, Jan was her name. She will come into play later in this story. She was also getting her brain blasted. We would compare notes and laugh about some of the things that happened. I think that was the only thing that got me through those 6 or 7 treatments at that time. They were every other day. One thing for sure you had no short-term memory at all. I mean none; someone might have to remind you why you were even there. It was anything but a good experience. I would imagine myself lying on that narrow table. At the same time, I withered under the effect of the grand mall seizure they would produce me to have. It seemed so archaic and primal. But as I had always done, I just listened to what the doctors told me and never question much of anything back then.

After a couple of weeks, I was discharged with somewhat of a new lease on life. I went back to work on the second shift this time (3-11 pm) that was slightly better for my circadian rhythm. As I think about those days, I know without a doubt that only by the Grace of God did Krista incredibly survived her pre-teen and teen years. Heather was an adult and capable of caring for herself, but working 2nd shift with a teen on the loose could have been a catastrophe.

During the next year or so, I think there might have been a couple of short time relationships. This is when I start to notice that my memory was affected by the ECT’s. My memory now is almost totally gone. The period when I was released from St. David’s till Krista and I moved to a small town just outside of Lago Vista, Jonestown, is blank to me now. I believe that the condo we were renting above Heather and Dan was to be renovated, and I think that is why we had to move.

I did not have a wide circle of friends for a few years except for a few at work and Jan that I met at St. Davids. Krista and I found a small house with a back yard. I am a sucker for animals, and I was missing having a dog around. The house had just 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living area. It was time to think about a dog. Jan insisted that I let her fill that void for me. The trait of mine never being able to say “NO” turned into an 80 pound Great Dane. Yep, like a whole person moved in with us. I wanted a pet, but not sure I was ready for what I got. I could not hurt her feelings. Just could not bring myself to tell her that the beautiful lap dog was about to tear my rental house apart. Not only that, but I would have to hide her if the landlord showed up. See, he had a pound limit of 40 pounds, and she was just a baby yet. My house was a circus, and they were all my monkies. Had I been more mentally stable, I would have handled that whole situation much differently.

I ran that 3 ring circus right up until it was once again my stubbornness and unwillingness to reach out for help that would once again take me to my dark place. This whole venture of “justmesandi” is to tell people not to do the things I did. Do not let the stigma of mental health rob you of your life.

“I suppose I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people, really.”

― Tennessee Williams