Category: Suzanne

Posted on

An Electromagnetic Headbangin’ Update

I got to sleep-in past 5AM on this weekday morning. No TMS treatment today. Yay!!! But Suzanne began to snore promptly at 5:01 AM, so I didn’t get to sleep in as much as I got to lie there and “curse-in” about being awakened when I didn’t need to be up early.

I’m not quite finished with the TMS regimen. I had treatment #30 yesterday morning. I’ve got 6 to go, but I am now in the tapering-off phase of the treatments, so I will have treatments only twice per week from now on. I want my TMS-every-weekday schedule back! I will follow the rules, but it really ticks me off that it will take 3 weeks for me to complete the last 6 treatments.

People who have never experienced a major depression cannot fully comprehend its complexity. My experience has been that most of the lucky people who have been blessed to skip the depression quagmire have the idea that to be depressed is only to feel down and hopeless. They don’t have a clue that major depression can manifest itself, not just in negative feelings, but in the total absence of feelings. When I began TMS treatment, I had experienced an extended period of time feeling nothing. Nada. Zip.

When this “not-feeling” happens, I still KNOW what I feel, but I don’t really FEEL it. For example, I know I love Skitter, but right now I don’t feel it in the marrow of my bones. I take care of her out of loving habit, knowing that the love still lives in me somewhere– and hoping I will surely feel it again. It helps me that I was raised to be a nice person, whether I’m feeling like it or not. “Nice” is my default mode of being.

Here’s another example of my being disconnected from my true, feeling self: A few weeks ago, Suzanne said, “Let’s buy you a new truck.” If I’d had my normal feelings working, I would have picked out a new truck and parked it in the garage within an hour of Suzanne’s words. Instead, I shrugged it off and said, “Nah. I don’t need one.” What mentally apt gal says NO when someone tells her to go buy a new truck? What feeling person doesn’t jump off the couch and speed to the auto dealership when someone basically tells you to buy a new truck you know you want? That right there proves I’m off my feeling-rocker.

And thus, I go through the motions of daily life, completely aware of what’s going on, but not really feeling like it has anything to do with me. I don’t even feel my “me-ness.”

I know all this sounds weird. It sounds impossible. But trust me, it’s possible. I’ve gone through the “not-feeling” thing a few other times in my life. My head has always righted itself, so it hasn’t alarmed me when it’s happened. But this time, I have “not-felt” for longer than I am comfortable with. That’s why Suzanne and I decided I should try the TMS treatments.

How’s the TMS working for me? I’m not sure. But I think I see a positive change in my psyche here and there. Suzanne says I don’t stare out the windows into nothingness as much as I did before. I would like to report I’ve felt a bigly, flip-of-the-switch change for the better, but I haven’t. On the other hand, I have not completed all 36 of the TMS sessions, and perhaps the last 6 are the charm. I can report that when I visited baby Grace last week, I felt inklings of joy stirring up in me, fighting to get out. So there’s hope.

BTW Wood Bow Tie o’ the Day says, “Follow your arrow. Or your arrowhead, if you don’t have the whole arrow.” Got the point?

Posted on

Face The Facts

Here’s a snapshot of me last week, on Mother’s Day, eating alone on the patio at CURRENT. That was the day I won the award for Official Ass Of The World, because I’d had a tiff with Suzanne and then drove off to SLC to our Mother’s Day dinner without her. Yup, that day. Trust me, I was upset and contrite when I selfied this– even though I was also enjoying my halibut.

So this is a photo of just me and my old face and Bow Tie o’ the Mother’s Day. Remember, this whole tblog thing began with– and is centered around– the neckwear. My old, wrinkly face just happens to hover above whatever charming neckwear I sport at any given time. I might show up in almost every picture, but the ties and bow ties are the stars. They are the point of it all.

Posted on

A Purse With A Calling

My Socks o’ the Day herald Bow Ties o’ the Day. This is, as you’ll recall, my view from my TMS treatment chair. Bow-tied socks relax me. And The Saddle Purse does, as well.

My purse goes everywhere with me. It sees and does everything I see and do. It’s a saddle, and saddles are meant to travel. It is a true, new companion. I never forget I have it, and I am vigilant about its well-being. It’s like a toddler. I HAVE A TODDLER AGAIN! I let it be independent, but I keep it close, and I constantly keep my eye on it.

Yesterday, at my pain doc appointment, The Saddle Purse sat quietly in the exam room. Of course, Dr. Bow (my nickname for Dr. Bokat) noticed it, and I showed her its finer features. I am especially in purse-love with its tiny saddlebag. As I was leaving my appointment, Dr. Bow asked where I had purchased the purse. I told her I found it at SLC International Airport. I’m guessing she will probably buy the red version because she works at the U of U.

I have been a diligent bow tie/tie missionary for decades. Despite never owning a purse until I turned 55, the one I bought– after it called to me– has converted me to its mission. It is the one and only true purse upon the face of the earth. Apparently, I have now been called to be a saddle purse missionary– without even trying.

NOTE: The highlight of my pain doc appointment was not actually The Saddle Purse’s mesmerizing of Dr. Bow. Nope, the highlight for me was telling Dr. Bow I no longer need the amount of pain medication I’ve been taking. It is clear my pancreas surgery helped my pain situation so very much. It’s been almost a year since the operation, and I feel close to completely healed from the surgery itself.

I’m glad Suzanne made me have the surgery. And she really did FORCE me to be gutted. Seriously, she locked me out of the house and told me she wouldn’t let me back in until after I finally had the surgery I should have had years ago. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But not by much.

Posted on

Going Broke For A Good Cause

Suzanne and I recently attended a fundraising auction for Davis District public schools. The theme for the evening was Shoot for the Moon, so I made sure I was slightly theme-y by wearing my space/cosmos Shirt o’ the Evening.

This outing was a first for my goldfish-in-a-baggie earrings. But for me my fave part of any attire I don is the neckwear, of course. I am so proud of this Bow Tie o’ the Day, which was created in Greece with an old bicycle tire inner tube. Excellent details: the bike patch and the tire valve. Some bow ties come close to perfect in terms of creativity, cleverness, materials, and appearance. This one is so close to flawless, but it does have a drawback: It weighs as much as the proverbial albatross around the neck. I can only wear it for short blocks of time. Wearing it for an entire evening was stretching it. People enjoyed it though, and that makes the humpback I got from wearing the heavy masterpiece well worth it.

Anyhoo… We bid on a few items at the auction. I was into the silent auction, which was happening all evening online for the small items. I was able to bid online with my phone. I spent too much money, but I came away the winner of basically six good dates to experience. I scored tickets/gift cards to Tracy Aviary, Clark Planetarium, Ballet West, Sundance Resort Summer Theatre, The Cheesecake Factory, and for a couple of infrared massages. When I say I spent too much money, I’m not really griping about the actual amount of money I spent. I’m griping about the fact that public schools have to go to great lengths to do fundraisers, in order to survive in the first place. That ain’t right.

In one of these photos I’m looking over my shoulder, incredulous at Suzanne, whose hand was almost constantly jumping up into the air to bid on some of the bigly items at the live auction. Somehow Suzanne’s bigly bids got us 2 round-trip airplane tickets to anywhere in the US we want to go, and a new car for a year. Since this is an annual fundraising auction we attend, I plan to duct tape Suzanne’s hands to her chair next year.

BTW I feel kinda bad about not doing a HAIRS THURSDAY post yesterday, but I didn’t have time. I have what I’m sure you’ll agree was a terrific excuse: I got to spend my time visiting with and holding a four-day-old baby girl. You know darn well that was a superior choice to staying home for the purpose of creating a bad hairdo to post. Crazy hair v. four-day-old baby? Spending time with babies always trumps any other choice. You will get details about my new infant friend in a future post.

Posted on

A Solid Color. Don’t Get Used To It.

Today I’m sporting a velvet, floppy butterfly Bow Tie o’ the Day. It’s blue and blue, as you can see. I do not own many neckwear items in solid colors. They have a tendency to be matchy, and you know how I feel about attire that matches. Solid colors make me feel like the Not-Me.

Speaking of “Not-Me,” I think I’m having some minor, but weird, side effects from my TMS treatments. Again, there’s nothing to worry about, and I have no proof it’s even related to the treatment anyway. But when Suzanne and I were at Walmart buying dog food on Saturday, I began to experience a jittery manic episode– the exact likes of which I have not felt before.(I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking: “Doesn’t everybody feel manic when they walk into a Walmart?” Har, har, har.)

This particular soul-fidget was nowhere near the worst I’ve ever gone through. It was actually quite manageable, though even the smallest bout of mania is always a bit dangerous and scary. We came home, and I got through it. Suzanne spied on me wherever I went in the house for the rest of the day, to make sure I wasn’t going to do something crazy-headed like throw all my Sloggers in the garbage. (Minor mania means I do minor weird stuff. Bigly mania means… you don’t wanna know.) My car keys somehow disappeared from their key hook for the rest of the day, as well. Suzanne, too, moves in mysterious ways. I thank her for that.

Yesterday, Mother’s Day, I still couldn’t focus enough to write posts. And then I did a thing– which was really done by my Not-Me. It was a thing so unlike anything the “real me” would ever do. But y’all will have to wait until the next post to read about my transgression. I’m still trying to figure out how to write about “my bad” in such a way that I don’t end up looking like an ass– if that’s at all possible.

Being bipolar sucks.

Posted on

Mother’s Day Eve

Flowery Bow Tie o’ the Day and Suzanne and Skitter and I made a quick trek to Delta, to visit this old dame– the original Helen Wright– at Millard Care and Rehab for a few hours. Mom was in the highest of spirits, as is her usual demeanor. She has a zest for life which makes me tired sometimes. She goes and goes, and goes some more. She makes me need a nap. I love her!

Did I mention Mom loves Skitter? Did I mention Mom adores Suzanne? Did I mention Mom has finally learned to tolerate me? I’m an acquired taste.

Actually, Mom has always loved me far more than I deserve. But I’ll take it.

Posted on

Salt Is Salty. Duh!

Aside from collecting neckwear, I spend some of my time in search of relaxation for Suzanne’s aches and pains, as well as for my stoopid, bipolar head. I seek out off-the-wall relaxation opportunities, on my quest to find something effective. Suzanne and I do like a fine massage, but I’m also willing to try just about anything else that mellows us out– both body and psyche. Heck, I try weird stuff simply to have new experiences. You already probably know that about me. Having a fresh adventure is enough reason to dive into it.

Wood, magnet-clasp Bow Tie o’ a Month Ago went with us on one of our attempts at relaxation. For Valentine’s Day, I gave Suzanne (and myself) a session at The Salt Cave, which is one offering at Awaken Wellness– a New Age-y wellness center in South Ogden. A few weeks after V-Day, we finally found some time to put the event on our schedule.

I didn’t know anyone who had been to The Salt Cave, so we had no idea what to really expect– except salt. I don’t even remember how I discovered the place existed. I scored a Groupon coupon for the 45-minute session, so it wouldn’t bankrupt me all for nothing if it turned out to be a letdown. All we had to go on was the photo and info I found online.

The Salt Cave is not an actual cave, but it felt like one when we were in it. It was a room about the size of a small bedroom. What appears in the photograph to be sand covering the floor, is salt. The lighting was extremely low. The pyramid in the wall was constructed with bricks of salt, and it glowed like a low-ember fire.

We sat in zero-gravity chairs. Calming music played, which we were told was programmed with “corrective healing frequencies, binaural beats, and isochronic tones.” Whatever that means. I don’t know if the music “healed” me, but it did help me mellow out.

For the duration of the session, a medical device called a halogenerator dispersed salt into the air. We couldn’t see the salt, but we felt it in our noses. I can say it felt like my nasal passages were clearing themselves out. Salt air has long been thought to improve respiratory ailments, as well as other health issues. We left with a faint layer of salt on our clothes. You can sort of see it on my hat.

The Salt Cave wasn’t magic, but we enjoyed our time in it. We certainly got relaxed. We were kinda sad when the session was finished, and I think we’d go again. It doesn’t matter that the experience was not profound and life-altering. It was fun.

After our session was complete, I was parched for salt. I needed plain old Lay’s potato chips. I did not lick the salt pyramid which was built into the wall. But I thought about it.

Perhaps for Christmas, Suzanne will give me my own salt lick to install in The Tie Room. Better yet, I would like enough salt licks to install one on at least one wall in every room in the house. And in my truck. And in my car. I don’t think it’s asking too much to have a permanent salt lick with me when I travel.

Posted on

Hairs Thursday #12: Morning Has Broken

Last night, Bow Tie o’ the Sleep and I slept dandily on the mustache pillowcase Suzanne made me. But I woke up with my head surrounded by scissors! 7 pairs of scissors! I believe the message Suzanne is sending here is this: HELEN EILEEN WRIGHT, CUT YOUR ATROCIOUS HAIRS ASAP!!! Even my hairs are hard for her to live with.

23 TMS treatments down, 13 to go.

Posted on

Hairs Thursday #11, Plus TMS Treatment #18

I don’t know what’s wrong with you people. Y’all seem to relish seeing my ugly hairs. You know how I can tell? Hairs Thursday tends to get the week’s highest number of hits from the website followers, and the number of Facebook responses are always robust. Get your fill of my horrendous hairs over the next few weeks, folks. They are doomed.

I can’t take it anymore. Even the ties and bow ties are tense about being around my coiffure. I can attest that it is horrifying to even sleep under my hairs. In fact, I noticed Suzanne is sick enough of the mop that she’s put her pruning shears on her nightstand. I think she’s trying to muster the courage to hack my hairs as I sleep. I’m smart enough to know that if she actually does the deed she will act completely innocent and claim she must have been sleep-haircutting. Suzanne’s a wily one, I tell you.

Anyhoo… Mustache Bow Tie o’ the Day got me thinking it’s about time to kinda have a neckwear theme, so I’m going to be wearing my mustache neckwear and accessories for the next week or so.

In one photo here, Bow Tie and I are simply showing you the clinic waiting room. Yeah, it’s not that exciting. I’m guessing there must be some kind of HGTV donation deal with the clinic though, cuz all of the televisions are always on HGTV. Plus, the waiting area has a zillion HGTV magazines. But I say, “Hey, if donations from HGTV help keep a mental health facility going, donate your little channel out.”

The other picture shows me and Bow Tie taking the purse for a walk and some sightseeing outside the Utah State Capitol building. We stopped there on our drive home from treatment this morning. My Diet Coke went along too, but it was too shy to be photographed.

FYI   This morning, I completed my 18th TMS session. I have 18 more ahead of me. It feels good to have half of the entire series behind me. 36 seemed like a zillion treatments at first.

After this many treatments, I’m a little discouraged that I am not feeling significant improvement in my mood-leveling. I am still stuck in a tar pit of depression, unable to swim out. Suzanne and I think we are seeing some small changes, but so far they are so tiny that we might just be seeing through our wishful thinking-colored glasses. I talked with my TMS doctor yesterday about my discouragement. He thinks I’m probably about where I should be, mid-TMS, but we decided to lengthen each treatment from 20 minutes of electromagnetic head-pecking to 25 minutes, for the duration of the remaining treatments.

I still have hope.

 

Posted on

Yes, There Will Be A Quiz After This Post

Green grassy Bow Tie o’ the Day presents y’all with a post you might find a bit on the boring side., You only need to read it if you want to know more about rTMS and how it works.

rTMS is based on the theory that some of the neurons in the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex of the brain (known as the mood center of the brain) are misfiring or not firing at all, which can be a cause of depression. rTMS sends electrical charges into that part of the brain, hoping to hot-wire the neurons.

TMS is sometimes called “shock therapy, lite;” “brain zapping”; and ” jumper cables for the mind.” Sounds fun, right? Researchers refer to the science of this treatment as “electroceuticals.” I suppose that makes it sound more therapeutic. I don’t give a dang what it’s called if it can help me level out the extreme moods of my brain’s soul.

Here’s how the treatment works: An electromagnetic coil gadget is attached to the left side of the victim’s, er… the patient’s head, as you have no doubt seen in some of my photos. The coil delivers magnetically generated electricity to the mood center of the brain. The magnetic field travels through the hair, skin, and skull because they don’t conduct electricity. When the magnetic field reaches the surface of the brain, it interacts with brain cells, which do conduct electricity. The brain’s neurons act as a pickup coil and turn the magnetic field back into electricity, which forces the neurons in the mood center to fire.

The bigly number of 36 treatments is because rTMS hits a patient with such a low “dose.” Shock therapy (ECT), on the other hand, gives you mega-strong jolts all at once which are supposed to cause seizures– to push the brain’s mood center into doing what it’s supposed to do. The goal of the therapies is the same: git the mood center’s neurons to do their job. The bare bones of how ECT and rTMS work are the same. Both therapies have about the same success rate. But the thought of following a treatment regimen in which the point is to try to induce seizures is kinda freaky to me. With rTMS, pretty much the worst that can happen to me is that the thirty-six tiny treatments don’t help. Unfortunately, if they don’t help me, I will seriously consider doing shock therapy.

When my “crazy head” doctor first told me about TMS, I immediately thought, “Oh, a mysterious coil– called a wand– attached to my head; magnetic fields; electricity; and a humongous price tag. Well, here’s a scam!”

But then I read the research, test reports, test results, yada yada yada, talked to my doctors, did some more yada yada yada research. I guess I’m just silly like that: I like to know “what’s what,” not what some talking head or salesman says is “what’s what.” My mood center neurons might be struggling, but my thinkin’ brain cells’ neurons still want to know factual stuff.

When I got to the point that I decided the treatment wasn’t bogus, I told Suzanne I would do it if she wanted me to. Heck, I’m not the one who as to live with me. And she hates to see me struggle to stay on the planet. If it were just me hermiting around by myself, I’d save the rTMS money and drive myself to Traverse City, Michigan to see the sights. But I’m not just me. I’m my whole family.