Electroconvulsive Therapy

 



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Electroconvulsive Therapy

Spying exits, I contemplate my escape
as my wheelchair winds its way from
the ICU to the fifth floor psych ward.

I'm promised three meals a day,
served on trays that bear my name (a name ostensibly Top Secret on this floor).

Next comes the forced sharing of painful memories with other imperfect strangers.
A game played if we hope win our release.

Yet, there's no percentage in this slow attrition.  So I go "All In" for the Gold Standard Treatment, ECT.

IV in place, I can't help but think about McMurphy, locked in his Cuckoo's Nest.
The waiting gave me the fantods.

But it's over quick, and I don't recall a thing.
Anesthesia and paralytics worked their magic. My trembling toes told the tale.

A month passes and I am paroled.
My ride awaits my emergence, through
doors which remind: “Elopement Risk."
 
Six months pass and intrusive thoughts return.  Life unravels one tremor at a time.
It came back slowly, but it still came back.





Spying exits, I contemplate my escape  
as my wheelchair winds its way from
the ICU to the fifth floor psych ward.
 
I'm promised three meals a day,
served on trays that bear my name
(a name ostensibly Top Secret on this floor).
 
 Next comes the forced sharing of painful
memories with other imperfect strangers.
A game played if we hope win our release.
 
Yet, there's no percentage in this slow attrition.  
I go "All In" for the Gold Standard Treatment, ECT.
IV in place, I can't help but think about McMurphy,
 
 locked in his Cuckoo's Nest. The waiting was hell.
But it was over quick, and I didn’t recall a thing.
Anesthesia and paralytics worked their magic.
 
My trembling toes told the tale. A month passes  
and I am paroled. My ride awaits my emergence,
through doors which remind: “Elopement Risk."
 
 Six months pass and intrusive thoughts return.  
Memory unravels one tremor at a time. It came
back slowly but came back finally, and stayed.