21 Days Later.

It’s Friday. It’s been three weeks since my last ‘little spark.’ Fifteen of them…sixteen, if you count that day when they had to shock me twice. There are few physical marks left that show from those treatments. The same right-arm area where they inserted the catheter those fifteen times has no visible scars. The only signs left are these itchy spots by the opposite sides of my hairline where the conducting gel must have been for five weeks. But those bumps are starting to recede.

So, two months have now passed since the very first treatment. I don’t know where the time went, mostly because I do have the ‘luxury’ here of not being able to recall every detail. The burden of having to be able to account for every single second of this time belongs to my mother. She’s the one who sat in that ECT waiting room for hours as other patients and their families came and went. Books and my doctor had told her the average number of treatments is eight. She got to sit through fifteen, or five weeks, and actually remember all those hours. And on top of that, she got to celebrate her 30th wedding anniversary and her 60th birthday during this time.

There’s a lot more to say about today, but I can’t seem to put the rest into written words. At least there are more days for me to be able to write because of ECT. Oh, there is one thing I need to write down: ECT did give me three more weeks (or the last two months, really) that I planned on never having.

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