Guiding My Husband Through His First Ketamine Treatment: A Personal Reflection

At this moment, I sit with my husband as he trusts me and surrenders control to a substance- something he has never, EVER wanted to do.  This is my husband who has never been drunk.  This is my husband who never tried marijuana.  This is my husband who never wanted to try ketamine.  “It’s not my thing.” He would say.  He would recount examples of family members with substance addictions.  When being especially honest, he would confess “I don’t feel comfortable if I’m not in control of my faculties.”  And “I have a negative impression of others who overindulge and behave differently under the influence.”

As I sit with him and observe, I recognize my own anxiety.  Ketamine IS one of the safest medicines we have in our world of western medicine… he has been evaluated by a doctor for safety and given the green light.  And yet… I am scared.  Seeing him lying there, vulnerable, I am reminded of when he had his strokes four years ago.  He was afraid and I was so afraid as well.  The fear of losing him.  A fear that would haunt me for years to come and force me to face my own deepest, buried abandonment traumas.

And yet here we are, he and I willingly giving up that feeling of control.  I have told him that I will remain silent unless he speaks to me… but I notice how much I want to reassure him “I am here.  I’m right here.  It’s going to be ok.”  Just like at his bedside in the hospital.  I want to reach out and hold his hand, more to comfort myself than anything… but I have promised I will not touch him unless he reaches out.  He flexes his fingers, gently rocks his head on the pillow, but he does not reach out to me, nor does he speak.  

I remind myself to trust the medicine.  I remind myself of my training.  I handled the crisis of getting my husband help as his brain was stroking, and we didn’t even know what was wrong.  I can certainly handle the care of my husband on a very low dose of a medication that is safe for children and pregnant women at MUCH higher doses.  He will be ok.  We both will.  We have overcome far more than this.  

He is resting quietly now, and his breathing is regular.  He begins to”ketamine breathing”, longer pauses between deeper breaths.  I take meticulous notes.  

He says nothing out loud on his journey.  He would not even share his intention or what (if any) higher power he called to be present in his treatment.  It is hard to be truly vulnerable.  Even with your partner of 17 years.  We have both learned this during the recent hard years we have had.  And I have learned not to pressure him to share.  Although we are partners in so many ways, we have learned that some parts of the journey are meant to be traveled alone.  We have learned that we will always return to each other when we are ready.  I trust that now.  It is a new skill.  I’ve come so far.

He’s out of the deepest part now,  and beginning his journey back.  His breath is more regular.  He shifts his body and stretches his legs.  He places a hand on his chest, and one on his stomach.  He rotates his ankles.  He is relaxed.  In a moment the “journey home” song will play.  It will let his mind know that it’s time to come home at the end of this and future journeys. The playlists are each about an hour long. He returns, and we spend the next 30-45 minutes discussing his experience.

“It was like watching my own version of Fantasia. My first experience was the numb feeling in my mouth.  It spread throughout my entire body.  It was a bit disconcerting.  It made everything feel fuzzy. Each song was like a music video.  At the beginning I felt nauseous.  As I move my head now, it’s very disoriented.  It was like a fever dream and my body was equating that to being sick.  

It was most potent the first 15-20 min.  Really trippy.  I felt like I was a little man in my head controlling my body, I was moving my appendages.  This little guy was controlling my body with levers, like the little alien guy in Men in Black.  

I felt maybe a little bit of worry when I was getting nauseous; no fear… it was more like I was watching a movie.  I didn’t care much about my original intention as I started getting into it.  

I felt the same experience of not being able to move at first.  Like when they were sedating me when they needed to take the clot out of my brain.  That loss of control over my body.  I think it felt a little scary at first.  

I incorporated a lot of imagery from the show we watched recently- Scavengers Reign… my body was the space ship.  I could always leave it, and then I’d get back in and see if I could still pilot this thing.

I saw my grandmother at the beginning, but just for a little bit.

It was like a fever dream without a fever.”