I have witnessed at least 20 electric shock treatments in my life. In my younger days I worked as a psychiatric aide for six years at the Mid-Missouri Mental Health Center. (When I tell my students this, someone always comes up with the wiseguy question: “Are you sure you worked there?” My stock answer: “There’s not much difference between my current job and my old one.”) As I recall, the electric shock treatments were generally prescribed for one of two conditions: severe depression or bi-polar disorder (usually in the manic phase). I should amend that—I swear that sometimes the psychiatrists (one in particular) would try EST when he didn’t know what else to do. My job was simple; prepare the patient (NPO after midnight, clean him up, wheel him in there), pre- and post-treatment vital signs, sit and watch him sleep afterwards.
It is really a gruesome treatment. The patient is deposited onto a treatment table, various electrodes and monitoring devices are attached, I.V. is started, doctor says a few inane words, anesthetic is administered, patient counts back from 100 (six counts is good), mouthpiece is inserted, and then BAM! It isn’t pretty when the voltage hits the flesh. The face contorts, the muscles contract, the teeth are bared, the whole body seizes up—it probably lasts five to seven seconds, but it seems a lot longer than that. Then the patient goes limp. I wheel him back to his room, put him in his bed, monitor vital signs every 15 minutes for the first hour, every hour after that. I don’t think I ever knew a patient who made it out of bed during the same shift after a treatment.
Ah, but the next day! Talk about your modern day Lazarus. The first EST I ever observed was on an elderly woman so morbidly depressed I thought a gun to the head would have been a mercy. The next day Eunice came out onto the ward neatly-dressed, full of smiles, cheerful as a meadowlark! She was solicitous of others; she was the soul of cooperation with her treatment team; she was transformed. Looking at her, I wondered what EST might do for me. (But not for long—remember what I saw!)
Not for long…there was the rub. Eunice was re-admitted to the hospital about three months later, suffering from depression. Time and time again I watched people receive the shock therapy, make a remarkable recovery, and then sink slowly, inexorably, back into their previous conditions. A temporary salve. My own response to observing the treatments went from unpleasant to revulsive, and I requested that I no longer be the aide selected to accompany the victim into the electric chamber. Most of the time they honored my request.
Something about electric shock therapy just does not compute. How can that jolt of electricity, which slams and contorts and convulses your body, end up having a beneficial effect? It seems like a biblical conundrum: can something good come out of something that appears so evil?
But I have to be fair-minded. My own father received electric shock treatments. Around the time he turned fifty, my dad sank into a deep depression. I was seventeen at the time and totally absorbed in my own teenage angst, but I do remember talking with him one time about what was bothering him. He saw no purpose and no point to his life; he had no desire to do anything; his job was meaningless; his routine was deadening; his family would be better off without him. He scared the hell out of me. My mother had him admitted to a mental hospital. Weeks later he had electric shock treatments, and then he came home. He was fine. Same old Dad. And he stayed that way for the rest of his life. So what do I know?
From a broader perspective, we all get shock treatments in our lives. Love ends (and it almost never ends on a mutual basis). Catastrophe strikes. Death of a loved one happens. Are we made better by these “shocks”? It seems it can go either way—strength or debilitation. I like to think we have some control in the matter, but I’m not so sure. Mostly I just want to avoid the treatment.
In the final scene of the season finale of my current “favorite ever” television series, my hero gets an electric shock treatment. The medical one. And I feel like I’m sitting by her bed while she lies there unconscious, and I’m wondering how she’s going to turn out. I’m not optimistic.
Hey Dallin!
I appreciate your observations. I was the ECT nurse in Denver for awhile at some hospitals, the thing that was different was that now treatments are given after administering a form of curare so that the muscles don’t contort at all. At most you might see a toe twitch. The person doesn’t have muscle aches and pains the following day either.
Now there is also transcranial magnetic stimulation, not done with anesthesia as it is unnecessary… used for severe and persistent depression, PTSD … I appreciate all the innovative ways people are developing to aid in psychiatric care.
I don’t know if you know but I became a psych nurse practitioner 10 years ago and work in an office in Colorado Springs, CO. I love being able to help people. ;-)
Thanks for the info, Kathy. I’m glad to know it has become a more gentle treatment. If I had become a nurse, I definitely would have chosen psych nursing. I thought the work was fascinating, even though I was just a psych aide. Great to hear from you! I see from Facebook that you are doing well.
Thank you for the information, and the webpage certainly looks good. Just what wp theme are you utilizing?