This Thing Called Depression

Yesterday I had my monthly appointment with the Psychiatrist who is responsible for my care. I like him and more importantly, I trust him. He is personable with an easy yet professional manner. He is a yacht owner too so we share yachting stories and he likes to tell me of his recent trips.  Amongst these short conversations we also speak of my clinical depression, how I'm doing with this, and checking how safe I am with myself. He is thorough in his assessment of my current situation and willingly offers suggestions for new approaches. This certainly was the case yesterday.

At the moment I'm locked in to a severe bout of depression which is not shifting in anyway shape or form. The medication I have been taking is simply not making a dent on my low mood or even imprinting any form of colour into my life. The upshot is a diagnosis that I'm struggling with 'treatment resistant' depression and if this cannot be overcome with medication alone, then other treatment courses will have to be attempted. 

My Psychiatrist has prescribed one last medication which he hopes will provide me with increased energy and thus motivation to turn my current lethargy around. However, there are risks attached to this medication (see my previous blog post) and it may not suit me. Hopefully this will not be the case and it will work the magic he thinks is possible. It's not a medication for depression per se but there is evidence that it works for people like me, who have been fighting a deeply stuck low mood. 

If this new medication does not work then I will be admitted to hospital for further assessment and possibly a referral to a specialist NHS unit for people with severe and enduring clinical depression. Apparently there are non-medication approaches which can be explored, some of these almost experimental. Thankfully it seems that I'll not be put through ECT again because this clearly did not work for me.

Bringing my session with him to a close yesterday, my Psychiatrist implored me not to give up hope, assuring me that we were nowhere near the end of the road and I was not going to be given up on. One of the struggles I'm dealing with at the moment is a strong sense of hopelessness, sometimes to the point where I believe there is no reason to continue fighting for my recovery. Associated with this, is the gnawing belief that I'm nothing but a burden to my family. I'm not sure if I was entirely mollified by his assurances that I will recover but I did leave the Health Centre with a little more hope than I had before.

I have started to take the new medication which is an adjunct to my current pill regimen. Time will tell if this will work or not. Sadly I will not be able to celebrate their success or deal with their failure with my Psychiatrist because he is moving on to new pastures. I will miss him for his professional and affable care, and the ease with which I'm able to communicate with him. 

Here's to HOPE.