War Games (edit one, memoir excerpt)

There’s a war in her brain, her mental landscape blighted by bombs that explode with two hundred volts of electricity. She’s convulsing, the current coursing through her while I stand by watching her toes. Her toes will curl, watch, they tell me, so I do. The nurse holds her head as it starts its rebellious journey, jerking backward. Her toes curl. I glance from her toes to the second hand on the circular wall clock and back to her feet. It has to last so many seconds, how many did he say? My mind is stuck.

As Dr. Flak outlines ECT procedure, grief rains upon me like the ashes of Vesuvius, binding my forehead and scalp and the mass of particles beneath. “The thing to remember is that this method is performed while the patient is unconscious,” he is saying, “which is induced by a short-acting barbiturate. Not only that, you should know that patient is also given succinylcholine.” He pauses. Possibly he notices my vacant stare and mistakes it for confusion. “. . . temporarily paralyzing the muscles to prevent self-harming. After this, a breathing tube is inserted into the patient's airway. Beside this, a rubber mouthpiece is also inserted into the mouth to prevent teeth grinding or tongue biting during the electrically induced convulsion. Then, we have the electrodes. These electrodes may be placed on both sides of the head­—bilateral­— or one side and an electric current is passed through the brain. In this case, I would advise bilateral.”

I am covered with ash. I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve blinked. Today, for the debriefing, I have driven Abie here. I will not transport him home. “How strong is electrical current?” he asks, using his business voice. The edgings around his ears are on fire. Dr. Flak adjusts his glasses. “Well,” he says, “the usual dose of electricity is 70–150 volts for 0.1–0.5 seconds.  This stage lasts approximately 10–60 seconds.”

As I stand on this deceptive shoreline so smooth that it threatens to sneak out from under me, a rogue wave thunders in and crashes over me. I don’t thrash about like a fish at the end of a line. I’ve become a silent shadow—-I know I’m thinking but I have no thoughts; I see but no image appears within the curve of my retina. And though I hear, I can’t distinguish the words above the bellowing wave which is Dr. Flak’s voice—“The physician in charge will try to induce a seizure that lasts between one-half and two minutes. If the first application of electricity fails to produce a seizure lasting at least 25 seconds, another attempt is made 60 seconds later. The session is stopped if the patient has no seizures after three attempts.” There is one scene I will never forget: one on perpetual playback. I saved only myself, fleeing from the firestorm that was Abie.

A nurse in green scrubs asks if I’m alright. “I have to be,” I say and let her catch my eyes. For an instant I let her in to the bewildering wildness behind these eyes of mine and then I shut her out. There is an eclipse behind my eyes and even I cannot look inside, although sometimes I think if I do, if I stare unblinking and lose my sight, the past will dissolve, and with it the present. But for now, I stand beside my frail daughter in her Day Surgery bed, my face hovering above hers like a mist or lover so that she might see me when she fades and again as she reenters.