I have to be in the operating room at 6:30 AM, and I’m as nervous as hell.
I’d like to believe that once I’m actually at the hospital this feeling will have dissipated and that I will be calm, cool, and collected; but I will likely be a trembling and teary wreck.
Somehow I doubt I’m the only ECT virgin to feel this way.
Will my memory be wiped like a hard drive? Will I be a drooling, stuttering fool for the next two months? Will I forget how to wipe my ass? My doctor and my extensive research have all told me no, but my anxiety tells me Yes Bitch, For Sure.
I know that this is the right thing to do and that I absolutely need to do it, but part of me pictures myself running through the hospital parking lot in a hospital gown, bare ass bared, screaming “NOOOO!” while being chased by burly orderlies.
I won’t actually chicken out. I can’t. The idea of being so fucked up that I need this is still just a lot to process.
What I need is sleep – a good solid night of life-giving Zs, but I can’t see that happening. I will probably listen to my audiobook until the drugs take hold and then gladly drift into unconsciousness until four.
Wish me luck.