Psychedelics

Recently in the news there have been several stories concerning scientists taking another look at psychedelic drugs for depression treatment. Psychedelics have had a terrible stigma because of their use and abuse in the hippie era of the ’60s. Images of whacked-out teenagers tripping and hallucinating are conjured by the mere mention of LSD or "magic mushrooms." Fast forward to the 21st century — the base chemicals found in these hallucinogens have proven to rapidly relieve depression and bi-polar disorders in a matter of hours as opposed to conventional antidepressants that take weeks or even months -- if they work at all. Unfortunately most of these chemicals are illegal today. The chemical found in "magic mushrooms" is called psilocybin. In controlled trials, patients have reported virtual immediate relief from treatment resistant depression. The positive results don't last forever but scientists are intrigued by its rapid effect.

So am I.

Another drug is called ketamine. A study published by scientists found that an injection of ketamine which is an anaesthetic used legally in both human and veterinary medicine, but also abused by people who use it recreationally -- can lift the mood within minutes in patients with severe bipolar depression.

I doubt I'll have access to any of these drugs in the near future because of prohibitive costs or insurance bureaucracy but I'm going to enquire with my psych doctor about any possibility of looking into this.

Of course, there are always risks with new and experimental treatments. This is all in its infancy but I'd be willing to be a guinea pig in a clinical trial. Am I desperate? Am I foolish? Am I nuts to seek out an instant "cure" via a pill? In a word, yes. But I've been a lab rat for decades so this really wouldn't be any different. I am concerned about having a "bad trip" or doing irreversible damage to my already damaged brain. But to experience even the slightest temporary relief could be priceless. Nothing may come of this but who knows? Stay tuned.

UPDATE:
A discussion with my psych doctor resulted in mutual agreement that these drugs are too experimental and risky at this time. Besides, she said using psychedelics is "creepy." I am, however, going to look into a newer treatment via a clinical trial called TNS (trigeminal nerve stimulation). It's basically a devise you wear while you sleep that electrically stimulates nerves in the face. Somehow it relieves depression and has a 70 percent success rate. I'll craft a separate post when I learn more. There will be no tripping on mushrooms apparently.

What would they say?

I'm not suicidal. I don't plot my death. I suppose I haven't reached that point — thankfully. I've seen the pain that suicide causes loved ones left behind. I could never do that to my family. But in a twisted mindset that I don't fully understand, I do have a certain empathy for those that have been so desperate for relief, they chose to take matters in their own hands and end it once and for all.

I once saw snippets of a documentary where the film makers set up several cameras 24/7 focused on the Golden Gate Bridge. The filming lasted an entire year. In that year they documented two dozen suicide jumps and several attempts. I couldn't watch the whole thing. For some reason though I had a visceral understanding of why these people made that final choice of their lives.

Sometimes I experience fleeting thoughts of what the end could be like, often times wishing my life would be cut short so as to be spared any more heartache. Would I feel warmth and relief? Would there be the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? Would I be punished eternally for committing the sin of suicide? What would people say about me? Would it really matter in the Grand Scheme?

As I continue to tailspin, I have fears of what this continued hell will do to me in the long-term. The toll it takes can easily make you do things you'd never think of doing because of desperation. Of late, I've had fleeting realizations that I'm losing my will to live. This does not mean I'm suicidal. I'm just having a great deal of trouble caring anymore. I hope I won't reach a point where I'll have no option left but to face that awful, final choice.

One for the books

Today my psychiatrist told me she has never in her career been unsuccessful in treating her patients for depression. As she said this she shook her head slightly.

I may have stumped her. Nothing to be proud of.