I’ve spoken of the ECT procedure but have yet to write about the consequences and side effects of the treatment.
The night before ECT treatments I stop eating/drinking at 7 pm due to the anesthesia I’m to be infused with the following day. Something I have eventually grown accustomed to.
It was the end of March and the central pathway to one of the main hospital entrances was getting dusted with snow. I recall taking an extra moment to capture this image in my head as I had never witnessed snow at the hospital before.
This blog took a break as I was under the weather for several months. I took the site offline as I entered Charité again. I’m now re-reading these posts to recall where I left off. I’m surprised the last post was even in 2018. So it goes.
It’s a bit difficult to know where to pick up here for people who are following and those who haven’t. I was very ill from late 2013-2015, went to hospital in 2015 and got better thanks to the amazing folks at Charité and experimental medicine of ketamine infusions. I recovered and decided to go back to school.
It’s been a while since my last post. Time for an update so I can get on with the rest of the story. I’ve been immersed in my master’s program, so all good, just busy here.
This part is especially hard to write about. I love Torino as I’ve learned this year, where my school is based. I prefer the native term, Torino, to the English ‘Turin’ just because it sounds so much better to the ear. To my ear anyway.
After two or so weeks tapering off the last of my debilitating medications, I was finally scheduled for my first Ketamine infusion. For those following, you already know the backstory. For those new here, it was an extremely painful, long fucking time coming.
In the weeks leading up to the infusion, I’d seen patients being wheeled, on their beds, out of and back to their rooms for EKT/ECT (electroshock) or Ketamine treatments. Including my-then roommate, a young twentysomething German woman who went for regular EKT treatments. So, I was prepared for that part. Or so I thought.
As mentioned, a colleague approached me for the gig. I didn’t know the actual project I’d be working on, but went out of trust in my colleague, and the BBC opportunity, for the young studio in Stuttgart.
I’m not sure what to call this colleague who brought me in. I’ll call him ‘Reinhard’.