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BY Ted Scheinman

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When I began considering electroconvulsive therapy, better known as electroshock, I assumed the “shock” part referred to the electrical zap you received. An electrode or two on your head. Some doctor pressing a button. A machine buzzed audibly. Zap, zap . You were shocked. Maybe changed forever. Maybe for good, maybe for ill. Zap, zap . Like a ray gun in a dystopian thriller. And no thriller was more dystopian (I flattered myself) than the anxious depression that had me in agony every waking moment.

Before I met those electrodes, accepted them onto my temples and into my life, my doctors gave me some books to read. I learned that most of what I thought I knew about ECT was deeply wrong.…