The Appointment Room

For Part One of this short story, please see The Appointment Room - Memoirs of a Mumbler.

Helena followed Shelly to the center of the small room, where the examining table was prepared for her. She pulled herself to sitting position on it and waited for the usual investigation to find an accommodating vein for the IV.

"I think the right wrist looks most promising today," Helena said, hoping to expedite the process.

"We'll try that one if none of the others works," Shelly assured her "but let’s give the usual suspects a try first.”

Resigned to the usual probing search and stab attempts, Helena held out her right arm. It had been obliging the last time, albeit after three tries. "You're quite the challenge," Shelly remarked.

"In oh so many ways," Helena countered.

"Got it. First try." Shelly sounded pleased with her skill. She attached the IV line and asked Helena to hold it while she busied herself detangling the wires used in the procedure. When she was satisfied that everything was where it should be, she reached for the small sticky tabs that would be applied to key spots on Helena's head. Quickly, she placed the tabs accurately, then attached the wires.

When Helena's head somewhat resembled a palm tree, with wires trailing to her shoulders, Shelly checked the two that attached at each of Helena's temples. Satisfied they were securely placed, she opened the door out to the waiting room. "See you soon," she said as Helena walked past her.

Sitting again in the waiting room, Helena concentrated on the worn carpet, rearranging her legs into a more ladylike pose before she dared look up at the people around her. It was at this point every session that she had to will herself feverishly not to burst out laughing. She knew the situation was anything but funny, but they all looked so ridiculous sitting there with wires dangling from their heads. No one dared look at anyone else, all eyes fixed on their own feet. Helena wondered if any of the others took note of the absurdity of it all.

"No," she decided every time. They all looked glum, maybe lost in their own thoughts. Somehow, however, Helena doubted much thinking was happening around her. Everyone looked detached, their combined personalities conveying no discernible emotion.

The door opened and Shelly stood in the doorway. "We're ready for you Carson."

Helena watched his slow plodding gait as he disappeared into the small room. At this point, she would always feel a twinge of jealousy. She wanted it to be her turn but, one by one, the rest of those in the waiting room made their way before her. It was a boring wait and Helena wanted to get to the good part. "Savor the anticipation," she told herself. "You'll enjoy it all the more."

Finally, it was her turn. She felt the tiny rush of excitement for what awaited her, but wanted to prolong the reward to make it all the more satisfactory. Once it started, it didn’t last more than a second, Helena had gauged. Was it worth all the early mornings and near impossible waits for the sessions? She posed the question to herself. Was it worth it for that split second of bliss? Of course there was more to it than that, and the result was believed to be beneficial, however she didn't know if it helped her in any way. But her life was usually so difficult that the happy escape, short-lived though it was, made the entire annoying ritual worthwhile. So she always decided when contemplating this question.

The paper liner was spread over the table. Helena took her place, lying down with her head on the flimsy pillow. She looked around briefly. Besides Shelly, she didn't recognize any of the others in the room today.

Two hands appeared over her head. She opened her mouth for the guard to be inserted.

"OK, bye bye,'" she heard the voice above her say. It had barely registered with her before she was gone. Into the nothingness that followed the brief moment of bliss she so craved.

When she awoke, she was lying on the middle bed. For some reason, she always seemed to get that spot. She kept meaning to ask why, since she was always last to be treated.

Knowing she had a half hour to wait before she could leave, Helena tried to train her thoughts on to things that usually lifted her spirits. She knew she was the only one awake, despite being last. She always was, and this pleased her in some twisted sort of way.

One of the assistants in recovery noticed Helena was awake. "First again," she noted, smiling. Helena didn't feel much like talking but she responded, "Yes," agreeing that she was, in fact, the first one to waken.

Why it was a half hour wait, Helena didn't understand. She was always itching to get going from the moment her eyes blinked open. But it was, apparently, a tried and true process, and she knew how fortunate she was that this treatment was available to her. Whether it helped with the depression, she was never able to tell but, she'd found, it didn’t make her condition any worse. Of her friends, though, no one encouraged her to go through another session of ECT. They all believed it could only be detrimental to her brain function. Electric shocks to stimulate convulsions did sound a tad dramatic and intense, but most of the memory Helena lost from the interventions were things and events she didn't really want to remember. When people told her about some moments from her recent past, she had no memory. And she was happy about that.

They didn't understand the hell of Major Depressive Disorder or Complex PTSD. How could they? Helena didn't resent their reservations and fears; she understood them and knew that her friends were only concerned for her safety.

When she was finally allowed to leave, Helena quickly gathered her things and, with a quick goodbye to Shelly and the others, she walked out to the corridor. “See you in two days,” Shelly called.

“I can’t wait,” Helena responded, without a note of sarcasm. The promise of feeling that blessed relief of bliss as the anaesthetic did its job loomed. And, just maybe, the Electro Convulsive Therapy sessions were helping her deal with the cursed depression that had plagued her for decades. Those who didn’t understand it was worth the wager of memory loss – or whatever other side effects – were welcome to their opinion…their peaceful, untroubled, clear-headed and personal opinion.

Helena thought again about Jess. Any of them who were with her in the waiting room could so easily go that route. Yes, it was worth it.