Before yesterday, it had been about three weeks since my last ketamine infusion. Lately, I notice an improvement in my depression in the days following an infusion, but it doesn’t last for as long as I’d like. Changing or adding a medication seems like a good option at this point. For a couple of weeks now, I’ve been battling my pharmacy and insurance for access to Wellbutrin. It’s been quite a hassle, but I hope it will be worth it.
For this infusion, I used a scopolamine patch and took cimetidine, both of which may help the effects of ketamine last longer. When we’ve done this combination in the past, I’m pretty well zonked for the rest of the day, and the experience of the infusion mostly disappears from my memory. Scopolamine makes me feel slightly off balance, and it gives me wicked dry mouth. Not just dry mouth, though – it’s also inside my nose and throat. Yuck.
Often, the first sensation I notice during a ketamine infusion is warmth in my head and neck. This is quickly followed by a sense that my head is either expanding or shrinking. This time, it was shrinking. It felt a bit like the skin around my head stayed in place, but everything underneath it was crumpling into a little tin foil ball. At some point, the feeling reversed. The warmth radiating upward evoked a strange floaty sensation, and I remember thinking that my head felt like a hot air balloon, stretching out and lifting off.
Perhaps the dryness in my mouth and throat is what led to the first image I can remember: a drab, grey fish drying out on a sandbar. Somebody came by and tossed it back into the ocean, only for it to find itself surrounded by sharks.
The fish dream did not last long, and I soon moved on to other things. Once again, numbers dominated parts of my experience. Spreadsheets, tickets, and measurements scattered throughout my brain. My mind seemed to be going a mile a minute, and interspersed with the numbers were seemingly random objects and animals that flashed into focus and then disappeared. It started to become overwhelming, so I opened my eyes a few times. After the speed and intensity of my split-second ketamine dreams, the room was suddenly, jarringly quiet and still.
Something I’ve noticed about ketamine is that when I open my eyes, everything is so blurry and unstructured that I can’t tell where the people around me are looking. It’s interesting to note how much it bothers me to not be able to read people’s expressions or body language. I don’t notice that being so crucial in my daily life because it just happens naturally for me. But when I suddenly can’t do it anymore, it’s almost like the people around me are aliens whose emotions and thoughts are completely inscrutable.
At times, quiet conversations and activity in the hallway and other room seemed incredibly loud and close. I wondered if there were people standing right over me, but when I opened my eyes, the noise stopped and the same calm, serene room greeted me. When I looked up, the ceiling tiles resembled oil paintings of pastel landscapes. I closed my eyes and was met with more odd images, many of which I don’t remember. There were translucent shrimps on the sea floor, skeletons, and a curtain made of long, interwoven strips of orange, red, and pink fabric. At one point, a sequence of images told a bizarre story. I had found two birds and put them in a cage until I could figure out what to do with them. But as I turned away, the larger of the two birds veeery slowly swallowed the smaller bird whole. WTF. I’m relieved that I managed to interpret my post-infusion notes, because what I wrote down in reference to that particular ketamine dream was “mbira dram” (bird dream). Even autocorrect couldn’t help me with that one.
I went to bed early last night, but woke up around 11pm extremely confused about what day/time it was. I had completed my whole nighttime routine before going to bed, so I just decided to not worry about it and went back to sleep. I was awoken a couple more times in the night because of how dry my throat was. It felt so desiccated that just breathing irritated it. Definitely unpleasant, but bearable if it means the ketamine works better. I was developing a headache when I went to bed, and it’s still hanging on around my right eye and forehead, but in a mild way. I had a headache after the previous infusion as well, which I had assumed was PMS. Perhaps not, though.
To try to boost my mood, we’re going to do another ketamine infusion in a few days. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the fact that 2020 is officially over.
Happy New Year!