The temperate is so cold, exposed human skin freezes solid
in less than an hour. The air is so thin, the average,
unadjusted person would die within minutes. A man named Norm is huddled with his best
friend Chris on the face of the South East Ridge, towards the summit, of Mount Everest.
After an unexpected storm, they have been separated from the rest of the group of tourist
climbers. Because of the conditions, Chris’s body has begun shutting down and is incapable
of holding balance, forcing him to stop in one the most dangerous sections of the mountain.
Norm, Chris, and Norm’s wife Jill had decided a little over a year ago that they were going
to climb Mount Everest together for Norm’s 39th birthday. It’s Norm’s 39th birthday
today. The idea for the trip sprang up during a moderately
drunk conversation about life and getting old. In
a bar, they talked about how it felt like their life was slipping
away from them. How they were wasting their remaining prime
adult years in monotonous routines with little to no excitement
anymore. Then they reminisced about past times and trips
filled with hiking and climbing adventures. They lamented over
how long it had been. They recalled memories of their 20s
and early 30s, hiking some of the greatest trails and climbing some
of the greatest mountains in the world. By the end of the
conversation, they promised each other that by this time next
year, they would climb Mount Everest together and feel that
sense of wonder and excitement again.
Now, one year later, Norm and Chris are sitting at the
highest point of earth’s crust, at their lowest points ever
imaginable. Jill is waiting safely back at base camp after
experiencing challenges with the ascent and was guided back down
by a Sherpa before the storm. Norm is better off than Chris but
not by much, and won’t be for long. Inside his gloves, frostbite
is moving from his fingertips, down his hands. Both Chris and
Norm are running dangerously low on oxygen and their oxygen
tanks have almost completely run out, with only traces of
additional breaths left to be split between them.
Norm can go back down himself, but fears that if he leaves,
Chris will die with certainty. He hopes that both their body
heat and supplies can hold them over until the storm passes and
they can get more oxygen sent up to re-stabilize Chris and bring
him down. Norm is not in the most rational state of mind.
As more time passes, Chris’s speech wanes as his
consciousness begins to freeze inside his head. Realizing what
is happening, Norm gets the base camp to radio in Chris’s wife
for him. Chris struggles to get words out as his wife cries
amidst the static on the other line. They say they love each
other. They talk about what they’re going to do when Chris gets
home. And then Chris tells her to tell his parents and brother
that he loves them and he’s sorry. Not long after the call,
Chris goes to sleep for the last time. By this point, Norm is holding on by a thread.
He leaves Chris now that he is sure there is no hope
left. Norm traverses back down the face of the mountain, struggling
through the storm, using every neuron in his brain to
move his legs one step at a time. By unbelievable odds, he makes
it close enough to base camp to be intercepted and taken the
rest of the way on a stretcher, just before passing out of lethal
levels of oxygen deficiency.
It’s two weeks later. Norm is safe, at home. His left hand
and left foot have been amputated. Far scarier, he has been in
an unresponsive, catatonic state ever since returning home.
Doctors weren’t able to find any physical, tangible
abnormalities in the brain, but suspect that the oxygen
deficiency, subsequent seizures, and psychological damage from
the trauma of the experience all combined to cause Norm’s
strange state. Norm’s capable of moving and talking, but
doesn’t do much of either. It’s as if all of his interest
and motivation is gone and asking him to say or do anything is like
asking someone to learn how to throw a baseball 80 miles per
hour who doesn’t like baseball.
Two months go by. Norm has been going 4 times a week to a
psychiatrist specializing in trauma psychotherapy. Slowly, Norm
has begun to come out of his withdrawn, silent state but
something remains very strange. After struggling to pin down exactly what
is wrong, the psychiatrist finally diagnoses Norm with a
rare, extreme form of a mental condition known as Anhedonia.
Norm, his parents, and Jill sit in the psychiatrist’s office while the psychiatrist explains the
diagnosis. “It’s hard to understand, I’m sure, but essentially,
Norm has lost the ability to attribute any significance to sensations
and emotions. He’s just experiencing things
as things.” “What do you mean things as things? Things are just things.”
Norm’s father confusingly interrupts. “Yes, but I mean
he isn’t distinguishing the different qualities and internal experiences
of things. Like he’s not processing the difference between
pleasure or pain. Beauty or ugliness. Blue or red. Exciting
or dull. Etcetera. Everything is just a different image of the
same thing.” The psychiatrist explains. “How is that even
possible?” Norm’s mother emotionally emits. “Something like
this is pretty rare, so it’s hard to know exactly what is happening,
but cases of Anhedonia, and other mental disorders like
it, are typically triggered from PTSD or major depression or
both. This case is especially strange and extreme, but between
the lack of oxygen,
the seizures, and the psychological trauma, it unfortunately
kind of adds up.” The psychiatrist replies. “Is it permanent,
or...?” Jill speaks up for the first time. “Well, with the
uncertainty comes the possibility that it gets better. If it’s
purely psychological, than I think it’s possible that he makes a
recovery and comes out of it. I’ve certainly seen stranger
things happen.” The psychiatrist says to try to offer some
comfort. Norm’s mother begins to cry. Norm sits apathetically,
unconcerned by the news. The psychiatrist goes on and says, “I
think there are a lot of things that can be done to help the
situation and put a little more force on Norm’s brain. I am
going to suggest that Norm comes in 6 days a week, so I can
begin him on a more intensive talk therapy process. There are
also several other medications and combinations of medications
we can try. It’s likely going to be a long road, but it’s not
hopeless.” Over a year goes by. Norm’s condition has
not improved much. The anti-depression medications don’t
seem to help a lot and the talk therapy has only helped Norm
function better with his condition, rather than fix it at its core.
Norm has also tried electroconvulsive therapy, which uses
electrical currents to stimulate the brain, which also had no
real significant success.
Since that day on the mountain, Norm has not felt anything,
good or bad. Colors look different, but don’t feel different.
What used to be his favorite meal tastes the same as what used
to be his least favorite. His wife doesn’t look better or worse
than any other woman. A cloudy day feels the same as a sunny
day. Even his memories have no associated feelings or qualities
to them. It’s like looking at a photo from somebody else’s past.
Everything is the same, so nothing really is at all.
Jill and Norm’s family and friends have become increasingly
scared and desperate. The strain on the family and Norm and
Jill’s relationship is beginning to boil over. It’s like living
and interacting with the shell of a person, fully intact, with
nothing inside, or like a robot, but one with a face that
reminds you in every moment that it should be a person. Jill
still sees the person she fell in love with in his eyes, though,
and to many other people’s surprise, she continues to stay with
Norm, refusing to give up on him. Another year and a half goes by. Seemingly,
out of nowhere, the FDA approves a brand new depression medication
that is the first functionally different depression medication
in decades. The medication is derived from the drug known
as Ketamine, which had previously been used to induce and sustain
anesthesia, as well as used illegally to experience recreational,
hallucinogenic highs. After Yale University’s research labs
found Ketamine to be highly successful in improving treatment-
resistant depression disorders, it is federally approved in
certain forms and released into the market. The medication
essentially makes the brain malleable enough to be shaped and
reshaped by affecting neurotransmitters and allowing the brain
to form new neural connections. Norm’s psychiatrist prescribes
it. In order to facilitate the effectiveness of
the medication, though, it is essential that Norm also works
through a variety of complimentary psychotherapeutic practices.
As part of this, Norm’s psychiatrist tells Jill and the rest
of Norm’s family that they should spend some time each day
describing things to Norm. Little details of things and little
nuances of emotions. How foods taste. How colors make them feel.
What things are appealing to look at. What hurts and what
feels good. What’s boring and what’s exciting. Everything in
his daily life. In the following months, Jill does this with
Norm. At first she struggles to communicate sensations and
experiences with words, especially as Norm’s questions become
more and more complicated and specific, but she gets better
and better. She finds herself finding the tiniest hidden details
in each moment of each thing. The different sounds of each
breath. The different smells in each pocket of air. The
way different rays of sun feel on her skin. The way her tongue
seems to vibrate
differently with different types of food. The way the textures
of different materials make her feel. How different layers of
all the sounds, odors, tastes, colors, lightings, objects, and
feelings all work together to create a different scene of the
world in each moment, like watching the same movie over and over
again, but noticing something completely different each time.
Norm uses every neuron of his brain to try to feel what Jill
feels. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. Trying to feel and
imagine each thing she describes is like climbing the mountain
all over again. After more than a year of effort goes by,
the treatment is successful. Norm has slowly begun to feel
again. It’s miracle to his friends and family. Like he’s been born
again and given a second chance. They are overwhelmed with bliss
and relief. For the first time in years, Norm can feel what
they feel in these moments of happiness and appreciation.
As part of his continuous recovery process, he picks at
least one thing each day to describe in detail. An object, a
color, a taste, an odor, a feeling, and whatever else. Jill
continues to do this with Norm, even though she doesn’t have to
anymore. Today, Norm and Jill are lying together on
the ground in their living room. They are on their sides
as they look at, feel, and describe the living room carpet.
They talk about how
soft it is. How comfortable it is. How it’s like a patch of
indoor grass for humans, without all the dirt and bugs. They
laugh at this. They talk about the details in each little fiber
and how each little fiber builds into the whole carpet, making
the room cozy and beautiful. In this particular moment, Norm and
Jill feel a sense of happiness and wonder.