November 15, 2019

It has been a few days since my second infusion and I wanted to give a quick update. The infusion itself was much less intense and much easier this time around, which was a relief.

I am already noticing positive changes. My first thoughts in the morning haven’t been about how I wish I could sleep forever, how I don’t think I can get through another day, how I don’t see the point. Instead, I feel this little spark of resilience. A little flicker of hope in my chest that is beginning to fill up that hallowed out, empty space that was there before. I’m looking ahead to this week, rather than being stuck trying to figure out how to just get through the hour.

This is why I keep going with the ketamine. When I do finally get that boost, it gives me a foundation to stand on so that I can then use my other resources (therapy, help from friends/family) to continue my recovery. It doesn’t cure or end my depression, and I still have to put a lot of work into getting better. It’s a daily battle, but I am now feeling much more equipped to continue the fight. Depression had the upper hand for a while, but this double treatment of ketamine has helped level the playing field. I am glad to be back in the fight.

– Kristin
11/17/19

11/14/19

Thanks to the major support of my mom, I am going in for a second infusion treatment tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed it does the trick and helps pull me out of this. 🤞🏻

Thank you to all my friends and family and everyone who has reached out to offer their support after my last post. Knowing I’m not alone in this fight is tremendously helpful.

Depression tricks you into thinking you’re all alone, that nobody can understand the struggle or can actually help you. It tells you that you are worthless, that you are a lost cause and not worth fighting for. Don’t listen to it. Reach out, ask for help. Fight that voice in your head with everything you can. People need other people. You are not alone.

The Appointment
Yesterday’s appointment was a rough one. People have often asked me what the actual ketamine infusion feels like, and it is pretty impossible to explain. I’m sure it is different for everyone, but I’ll try my best to describe how it feels for me.

During the infusion I often feel like I’m Alice in Wonderland but in a medical setting (not quite as fun). The room grows, shrinks, transforms. I feel at times both weightless and like I’m sinking into nothing. Objects feel heavier, I can’t really move and I feel super disconnected from both my mind and body. My eyes feel as if they are spinning but I don’t feel dizzy. It’s hard to focus on any one thing. The music I listen to melts out of my earbuds into my brain and feels unbelievably intense. I sometimes want to speak but it’s impossible to get the words out. It becomes difficult to distinguish between what is really happening, what is my brain reacting to the drug, and what is a mixture of the two. Since it is in a medical office, I am hooked up to machines that measure my heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels. A nurse comes and checks on my stats every 15 minutes or so. While they are incredibly considerate and discrete, that can add to some of the confusion or fear. Once I had an infusion appointment shortly after watching Netflix’s show Maniac (highly recommend). During the treatment I briefly felt that I was being part of some crazy medical experiment. That is one example of how all your thoughts, along with anything you hear or see during the process can all influence your experience while you’re “tripping”.

Amidst all of that, there remains a small part of my brain that is aware. It is telling me this is all part of the infusion, trying to figure out what is real, trying to help me get a grip. That part of my brain is what sometimes sends me into a panic. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on and ground myself but when I can’t discern what is real and what is not anymore, my body goes into panic mode. This wave of intense panic usually happens towards the end of the infusion, when things are most intense. Luckily with the comfort of my mom, the incredibly kind staff, and some anti-anxiety medication, I can get through it. The intense panic doesn’t happen every single time, although I usually get some bouts of anxiety during each session.

Thoughts/Next Steps

With everything going on externally in my life, plus the intensity of this particular depressive episode, Dr. Patel suggested I would benefit from another infusion booster in quick succession (within the next week or so). He said that it might be the extra kick I need to get myself back. In a perfect world, I would choose this option in a heartbeat. I have been missing work, feeling incredibly hopeless, and my will to fight has dwindled considerably. But each infusion is costly – $500 per treatment. It is frustrating that I have to seriously consider whether I can afford to get myself the help I need.

Dr. Patel also brought up an interesting point – ketamine treatments keep people from having to be hospitalized. When people experience this intense distress, lack of functioning, and debilitating hopelessness, they are often treated in-patient at a psychiatric hospital to keep them safe. Since ketamine treats intense depression and suicidal thoughts/ideations, it often can completely prevent someone from having to go through that. As you can imagine, in-patient treatment at a hospital is considerably more expensive than ketamine treatments. Our healthcare system is broken and seems to always be more reactive than proactive – and that’s why these treatments may never be approved by the FDA. As someone who will be dealing with this their whole life (there is no cure for bipolar disorder or depression), that thought makes me want to scream.

I would like to try to end on a positive note. This treatment works for me. It exists in my lifetime. I am fortunate enough that I have people in my life willing to help me afford it, wonderful and selfless people who think that I am worth the investment (thanks Mom ❤ ). I have some hope that whether I get this second treatment soon or not, I’ll be back on my feet in the near future. Until then, I am just trying to survive.

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