“Try to relax, hon,” Florence whispers. “There’s nothing to be a afraid of.” Florence, the ECT nurse, is short, fat, and maternal. She wears her glasses on a beaded chain around her neck and smooths my hair. As if I were a child.
“Pick a happy memory,” she whispers. “Something that makes you feel safe.”
Happy? Safe? I am drawing a blank. Florence, who has worked here since 1972 and has seen everything, sees the confusion in my eyes. “Or maybe just a really good day. Something nice that made you feel good about yourself.”
They are all about building self-esteem here. And I know it hasn’t been all bad. So I close my eyes and try to dredge up a piece of history. I do not expect miracles—am in fact prepared for failure. But the biggest surprise is how quickly real happiness rises to the surface.