Day 6: Different
Sophie has been out the past few days, which means my treatments have been administered by her colleague — let’s call her Kristy. I like Kristy, but I still feel self-conscious during the treatment, so I’ve been doing what I always do when I am self-conscious around people I barely know: I am trying to entertain. Chit-chat about the weather? On it! A funny thing my toddler said the other day? Let me tell you it! A question to which I already know the answer, just so I’m not the one who lets silence fall at a moment that, to me, feels awkward? Here you go!
All of this is irrational. I know. These people are professionals; they’re not there to judge me, befriend me or otherwise interact with me beyond what’s required of their jobs. And normally I don’t worry about this stuff, but part of me thinks that if I’m nice, if I’m good, if I’m the best and friendliest patient ever, maybe, just maybe, this thing will work.
Obviously, it doesn’t work that way.
“So how are you doing?” Kristy asked, as she taped my head to the chair. “Have you noticed anything different? Any improvement in mood?”
“No,” I said. “Why? Should I?”
“Well, this is only your sixth session. I’m just asking. Move down a bit. Right there.”
I tried to hold my head still. “I mean, should I be- should I be noticing something?”
“A lot of people don’t notice anything until it’s been three weeks. But sometimes younger folks, like your age and younger, they might feel the effects sooner. By three weeks is when other people start to notice, usually.”
“Other people? Notice what?”
“Like friends and family, noticing improvement in your mood.” She stepped back and saw the panicked expression on my face. “Don’t worry. You’re fine. It’s still really, really early.”
“Oh yeah, I know,” I said. The machine chimed. I faked a smile. Look at this good, friendly patient!
I really wish I could see what happens in my brain while the machine sztaps away. Would I be able to see a chunk of my prefrontal cortex go from dark to light? Would there be shriveled sections that gradually turn lush and plump? Would there be a clear delineation between the Bad Parts that make me feel bad and the Good Parts that let me make pleasant small talk with strangers?
We got up to 120% and stayed there for the last half of the session. It hurt. I know I said earlier that it didn’t quite hurt, didn’t quite not-hurt. I was wrong. At 120%, at this stage of newness, it hurt.
“How is that?” Kristy asked.
I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose. The burst of pulses felt like it lasted a lot longer than four seconds. But then the machine stopped, the pain echoed from my skull to my eye socket, faded and was gone.
“It’s fine,” I said, and I meant it.
