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TMS Day 1

Today I officially began the TMS process, which I talked about in this post. This is a seven week commitment and 36 treatments, and there’s a chance it won’t even work. There’s a chance it will though, and that chance is worth the effort after almost 20 years of trying medication after medication after medication after medication, etc., and failing all of them. This is something new and different.

Today was like freshman orientation – lots of paperwork and lots of preparation and meeting the people I’ll be working with for many hours of my life for the next seven weeks. I didn’t have a treatment today, but they did use magnetic waves to map the left side of my brain in order to see where the most effective spot to treat was. They did this by taking lots of tape measurements of my cranium, drawing symbols and numbers on it, and drawing lines on my face with surgical marker. It was sexy. Then they made a grid of the specific area of my brain they were going to treat.

Four different people asked me if I needed to go to the bathroom in a matter of three minutes. Perhaps I looked like someone who might pee in their chair. They had me lay my forearms on a table, hands face up, and they explained that they were going to administer magnetic waves in the left side of my brain and make my right hand twitch. Then they were going to gauge how strongly my hand twitched to figure out the most effective spot to stimulate my brain for the treatment. They used an instrument that looked like those giant glasses attached to the chair at an ophthalmologist’s office, and it would make a clicking sound and my hand would twitch as a result, just like they said. I felt nothing. Just my hand moving of its own accord.

They went row by row, cel by cel in the grid. After each row I had to stretch my hand, make a fist, and wiggle my fingers. There was a technician who reminded me to do this and giving me instructions.

Click. Twitch. Click. Twitch.
“Make a fist. Stretch your hand. Wiggle your fingers.”
Click. Twitch. Click. Twitch.
“Fist, Stretch. Wiggle wiggle.”
Click. Twitch. Click. Twitch.
“Fist. Stretch. Wiggle Wiggle.”
“Can you say ‘jazz hands’ instead of wiggle wiggle please?”
“No.”
Click. Twitch. Click. Twitch.
“Fist. Stretch. Jazz hands. Ugh.”
“Thank you so much.”

The process took about an hour. It was tedious, but I will say that the technicians and staff were very sensitive to the needs of mentally ill patients. Before they took measurements they told me that they would need to stand very close to me for a few minutes, but I could let them know if I needed them to back off. They explained everything in detail before they did it, and the program coordinator even told me ahead of time that there would be a man and a woman technician, and that if that was an issue for any reason that I could let them know. It’s always nice to be in an environment where I don’t have to fight the system to get what I need. It’s a rare situation to be in, and I’m always thankful when I come across it.

I have to wait for more insurance paperwork to come through before I start my actual treatments, and who knows how long that will take. Even though they’ve explained to me in detail what to expect, I’m still nervous about all the unknowns. The slight discomfort doesn’t worry me. For one thing I have twenty something tattoos, so whatever happens I can deal with it. For another thing, I don’t care what I have to go through if it will make me feel better. I’m nervous about the unknowns. They said that the depression and mania can get a little worse during treatment before it gets better. They recommended seeing a therapist more often, and keeping my support system close. That’s scary. But I will do my best to push through.

I will update the blog once I get an actual treatment and share how it went. For now, I’m going to go to the bathroom because no one gave me the opportunity to go while I was at the doctor’s office. So inconsiderate.

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