Green grassy Bow Tie o’ the Day presents y’all with a post you might find a bit on the boring side., You only need to read it if you want to know more about rTMS and how it works.
rTMS is based on the theory that some of the neurons in the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex of the brain (known as the mood center of the brain) are misfiring or not firing at all, which can be a cause of depression. rTMS sends electrical charges into that part of the brain, hoping to hot-wire the neurons.
TMS is sometimes called “shock therapy, lite;” “brain zapping”; and ” jumper cables for the mind.” Sounds fun, right? Researchers refer to the science of this treatment as “electroceuticals.” I suppose that makes it sound more therapeutic. I don’t give a dang what it’s called if it can help me level out the extreme moods of my brain’s soul.
Here’s how the treatment works: An electromagnetic coil gadget is attached to the left side of the victim’s, er… the patient’s head, as you have no doubt seen in some of my photos. The coil delivers magnetically generated electricity to the mood center of the brain. The magnetic field travels through the hair, skin, and skull because they don’t conduct electricity. When the magnetic field reaches the surface of the brain, it interacts with brain cells, which do conduct electricity. The brain’s neurons act as a pickup coil and turn the magnetic field back into electricity, which forces the neurons in the mood center to fire.
The bigly number of 36 treatments is because rTMS hits a patient with such a low “dose.” Shock therapy (ECT), on the other hand, gives you mega-strong jolts all at once which are supposed to cause seizures– to push the brain’s mood center into doing what it’s supposed to do. The goal of the therapies is the same: git the mood center’s neurons to do their job. The bare bones of how ECT and rTMS work are the same. Both therapies have about the same success rate. But the thought of following a treatment regimen in which the point is to try to induce seizures is kinda freaky to me. With rTMS, pretty much the worst that can happen to me is that the thirty-six tiny treatments don’t help. Unfortunately, if they don’t help me, I will seriously consider doing shock therapy.
When my “crazy head” doctor first told me about TMS, I immediately thought, “Oh, a mysterious coil– called a wand– attached to my head; magnetic fields; electricity; and a humongous price tag. Well, here’s a scam!”
But then I read the research, test reports, test results, yada yada yada, talked to my doctors, did some more yada yada yada research. I guess I’m just silly like that: I like to know “what’s what,” not what some talking head or salesman says is “what’s what.” My mood center neurons might be struggling, but my thinkin’ brain cells’ neurons still want to know factual stuff.
When I got to the point that I decided the treatment wasn’t bogus, I told Suzanne I would do it if she wanted me to. Heck, I’m not the one who as to live with me. And she hates to see me struggle to stay on the planet. If it were just me hermiting around by myself, I’d save the rTMS money and drive myself to Traverse City, Michigan to see the sights. But I’m not just me. I’m my whole family.
