Yup. I've started having sismotherapy (or electroshocks, as they used to be called). I've had 2 now - one on Friday last, one on Monday last, and am due for at least another 4 (possibly more) every Friday and Monday from here on out.
Let me tell you now: sismo SUCKS. It doesn't hurt (apart from the whole catheter-stabbed-into-your-hand part), but I have never felt so disoriented, so scared, so completely disconnected from everything in my entire life. Thank God - seriously - that my dearest Y has accompanied me both times, bringing me a beautiful (pink) rose the first time, a pastry the second. I couldn't have survived without him there to reassure me, comfort me, just hold me.
It's a miserable treatment, I have no idea if it's working (I took a minor overdose of Lexomil last night just to get to sleep without nightmares, so I'm guessing it's not working yet anyway) and Dr H's kindness and optimism somehow make me feel worse.
And I now live in dread of Fridays and Mondays.
I've always loved the film and book of "One flew over the cuckoo's nest, but now I'm not sure I'll ever be able to watch/read them again. Too close to home for comfort.
How did my life go so horribly wrong? Dr H says he hopes I'll find another love interest soon, but I don't see how that's ever going to happen - I still adore Y, he's moved on to someone else and is "just a friend" (albeit an excellent one) and I feel more alone, unloved and unlovable than ever. Oh, and it's Valentine's fucking day on Friday, where all I'll get is more fucking sismo.
My life sucks.