Several years before Joseph was born, I was admitted to a hospital for several days of EEG (brain wave) monitoring to see what types of seizures I had, how often they came, and thus, what change in medication or other treatment might help me function better.
In order to get a 48-hour tracing, electrodes are pasted onto the scalp at a number of predetermined spots that correspond to important brain landmarks. Then, the electrodes and wires are covered with a gauze turban to keep them in place. Because my head injury damaged my left temporal lobe, which lies deep inside the skull, surface electrodes do not always pick up the electrical signals generated in that part of the brain. Because of the importance of the testing, the neurologist decided to place tiny electrodes in my sphenoidal sinuses in order to increase the chance of picking up abnormal signals coming from that part of the brain.
In order to put those electrodes in, I had to lie still (no moving, no moaning, no screaming), while the epilepsy specialist inserted the electrodes, one in the left side and one in the right, but pushing them through the bone of the sinus. In essence, he pushed a needle though my skin, cheek muscle, and sinus bone until he reached the space near the temporal lobe (on the other side of the bone). It was by far the worst pain I have ever felt, and he had warned me it would be 11 on a scale of 0 to10.
So I concentrated on breathing, not moving, and counted to 10 over and over again. I could not imagine holding on longer than a count of 10, but I could do that. Then I did it again. When I had to, I repeated the process while they readied the opposite side.
Sometimes pain is unbearable, and whether it is physical or psychological, it is real. Find the images that can sustain you, the music that soothes you, the tricks that can take your mind away from your body or your negative thoughts for just a little bit, then repeat. Whether or not you can believe it as you read this, every crisis breaks.
The procedure ends, the argument pauses, the urge to give up eases when someone needs you more than you feel compelled to sit in despair. I’m counting to 10 today, over and over, and I will do loads of laundry and lots of errands, because I look in the mirror and see a failure. I am depressed. I am sorry I had my head injury just after my career as a doctor began and I am a bit sorry I didn’t die then, because things would be so much simpler.
But mostly, I don’t want to die right now. I want things to be better. At the moment, I just don’t see how to get there. If you are at the same place today, call a friend, call your doctor or other health-care professional, visit a walk-in center, a church or other house of faith. Do something to reward the ability to count to 10 over and over by using that time to get yourself help.
You deserve it. I deserve it. We just need to know when to take a deep breath and ask for help.