A decade ago, when I went through my first (and hopefully, only) cardiac bypass surgery (during which the subject's life is transferred to the tender mercies of a heart-lung machine while repairs are made to the original parts), I also went through six of the roughest months of my life.
I entered into a deep depression that I'm told is very similar to that experienced by survivors of an airliner crash. I'm told this is not unusual. It's almost like you feel guilty for having survived the event that you were allowed to live through.
It was a very dark place I was in, but I never chose counselling or drug therapy, presuming that I could manage my way through it on my own, and I did. I'm sure that I managed to make my family and friends a bit uncomfortable while I worked my way out of it on my own. The good news is that we're all still friends, I'm still married, and I'm no longer depressed and haven't been for many years.
I used Valium for a few months in the 1970's for the expected "attitude adjustment" and quickly discovered how ridiculous and useless that was; I was given Xanax a few days ago to reduce my anxiety prior to my exploratory surgery and discovered how badly that reacted with the anesthetic, Demoral. The combination of the two was pretty amazing.
But nothing I'd like to repeat.
Recently I came perilously close to repeating all of that drug-induced survivor crap but with the grace of God I lucked out. My recent chest pains were a false alarm and newly prescribed meds and demanded life changes will make them no longer an issue. And to the best of my knowledge, presuming I follow the dictates of the docs, I'll be fine and around to annoy you for many more years.
I'd just rather not have anymore cardiac catherizations, okay?
THAT would depress me!