Bret S. Stetka, MD

Many of us are reluctant to throw things out.

We buy. We accumulate. We collect. Eventually our attics are packed with dusty heirlooms that we rarely, if ever, look at. Eventually we’re forced to pare down and head to the Goodwill.

But not all of us.

Hoarding – or the prolonged difficulty of discarding unneeded possessions – is pervasive in our culture, affecting nearly 3% of the population. This compulsive collecting, and unwillingness to part with “stuff,” is even the subject of multiple popular television series.

How do you conceptualize hoarding behavior?

The core feature of hoarding is the inability to throw things away. This can be due to many different reasons, whether there’s a strong sentimental attachment or the belief that you will need these items one day. Compulsive buying is often involved, and inevitable clutter.

How was hoarding first conceptualized among psychiatrists and psychologists? And when did the term first enter the lexicon?

It was originally conceptualized as a difficult-to-treat subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). A lot of that work identifying this subgroup was going on in the late 1980s and early 1990s. There was a small but growing group of researchers demonstrating that this is fundamentally different from OCD in several ways.

In terms of the clinical presentation, the comorbidity patterns are different from those for OCD. And the course is a little bit different; we see a progressive development across the lifespan, as opposed to a clear-cut diagnosis earlier in life, as is typically seen with OCD. By the time a lot of people seek treatment, they’re often being brought in by, say, family members when they’re a little bit older. With hoarding, there is also this consistent pattern of poor treatment response across the board, whether to selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors or behavioral therapy.

A lot of this work together led to advocacy for recognizing hoarding as an independent diagnosis in the DSM-5. I think official recognition by our “big book” prompted more attention to this population. Previously these patients probably would have been diagnosed with OCD, and it really isn’t appropriate to think of hoarding as purely an anxiety disorder.
 

Hoarding exposure and future mental health

You have a new study, published in Annals of Clinical Psychiatry, looking at mental health among adult children of parents with hoarding problems. Can you tell us what inspired you to run this study, and what you found?

There were a couple of factors.

We’d seen a lot of folks with hoarding in OCD specialty clinics, so my clinical experiences with this population certainly drew me to this general area. But then, at the same time, I have this broad training in child mental health. And childhood trauma or adverse childhood experiences, which can include being around hoarding, can be a very difficult thing to live through and deal with. And here I have to give a lot of credit to Suzanne Chabaud, PhD, of the OCD Institute of Greater New Orleans, who’s one of the coauthors on the paper. She’s been beating the drum of thinking about the family and kids of people with hoarding disorders for years. My interests came from some of those experiences, but she had the good idea of really looking at this problem in a detailed way.
 

Prior to your paper, had there been research on the prevalence of mental illnesses such as anxiety and depression in the children of people with hoarding behaviors?

That particular question was new to our paper. It was the first time anyone, to my knowledge, had looked at a validated assessment of anxiety and depression in this population.

How did you assess their symptoms and what did you find?

We asked study participants to think back on how they felt throughout their teenage years and gauged their responses with the Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ), a measure of mental health disorders. I should say up front that we didn’t have a control group. But we found that among our 414 study participants, somewhere between 30% and 50% reported clinically significant anxiety or depressive symptoms, far higher than you’d expect in the normal population. So when looking back on how they were feeling as teenagers in that environment, they were struggling, and they often felt rejected by their parents.

We also found that almost 10% of participants were threatened with eviction at some point in their childhood; 15% had to live outside of their home at some point, because of the clutter; and 2% had involvement from child protective services and were removed from the home.
 

I know you recruited patients from online forums established by the children of hoarding parents. Presumably, these are the people most affected by this phenomenon. How does this play out in people who simply like to, say, collect something? Is this a continuum of behavior, with a breaking point at which it becomes a pathology?

I think it’s safe to conceptualize collecting and hoarding as a continuum, and you’ve got to draw a line somewhere in terms of clinical significance.

Did you assess whether the children of hoarders were more likely to hoard themselves as adults?

This is our follow-up paper; we haven’t looked at it yet.

But in looking at preliminary data, the prevalence seems pretty low, actually, at least in our sample. And as you mentioned, in our study there were folks who were seeking support specifically because they grew up in a really cluttered home.

Management

How do mental health providers typically address and treat hoarding?

To my knowledge, there are no current Food and Drug Administration–approved medications for hoarding, though psychiatrists will prescribe SSRIs and try to treat co-occurring problems such as depression and anxiety symptoms.

I can speak to cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) in a bit more detail. A number of randomized controlled trials support CBT for hoarding. I mentioned before that when we as a field treated hoarding akin to OCD and did exposure and response prevention therapy, we didn’t really target the specific features of hoarding. People didn’t do that well.

But now researchers are focusing on CBT interventions focused on discarding tasks that really address hoarding. You can create different categories for different items: Patients can either keep them, throw them out, or donate them. You can explore what thoughts or expectations are associated with these items and try to address them. Clinicians can help patients look at, say, different areas of their house and discuss what they might be willing to part with or at least think about parting with. You find their internal motivations for keeping things.

This sort of therapy generally takes longer than it does for, say, OCD. It can be a little bit slower, particularly if someone has a lot of stuff. And often it can involve doing home visits. In the age of Zoom this is a little bit easier because home visits aren’t always feasible.
 

What role does family play in managing hoarding? I imagine that including loved ones and friends in the process could be quite helpful.

Yes, absolutely. And social support, more broadly.

A colleague I worked with did a really interesting study where she looked at psychologist-delivered versus peer-delivered CBT for hoarding. They found that the biggest predictor of improved outcomes was having what they called a “clutter buddy,” which follows the Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor model. This would be somebody else struggling with the same problem who’s an accountability partner helping a patient follow through with their goals related to discarding. I think that finding underscores how important that social support is.
 

Any final thoughts for our audience of clinicians and researchers on how to approach hoarding?

I think there’s been a stigma – at least in psychology circles – that it’s not really treatable because of that earlier work with OCD. But on the CBT side, there’s now good reason to believe that people can live much happier lives and overcome this problem. CBT does seem to work for a lot of people with hoarding. That’s what I’d like to emphasize.

Dr. Stetka is executive editor for Medscape. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Many of us are reluctant to throw things out.

We buy. We accumulate. We collect. Eventually our attics are packed with dusty heirlooms that we rarely, if ever, look at. Eventually we’re forced to pare down and head to the Goodwill.

But not all of us.

Hoarding – or the prolonged difficulty of discarding unneeded possessions – is pervasive in our culture, affecting nearly 3% of the population. This compulsive collecting, and unwillingness to part with “stuff,” is even the subject of multiple popular television series.

How do you conceptualize hoarding behavior?

The core feature of hoarding is the inability to throw things away. This can be due to many different reasons, whether there’s a strong sentimental attachment or the belief that you will need these items one day. Compulsive buying is often involved, and inevitable clutter.

How was hoarding first conceptualized among psychiatrists and psychologists? And when did the term first enter the lexicon?

It was originally conceptualized as a difficult-to-treat subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). A lot of that work identifying this subgroup was going on in the late 1980s and early 1990s. There was a small but growing group of researchers demonstrating that this is fundamentally different from OCD in several ways.

In terms of the clinical presentation, the comorbidity patterns are different from those for OCD. And the course is a little bit different; we see a progressive development across the lifespan, as opposed to a clear-cut diagnosis earlier in life, as is typically seen with OCD. By the time a lot of people seek treatment, they’re often being brought in by, say, family members when they’re a little bit older. With hoarding, there is also this consistent pattern of poor treatment response across the board, whether to selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors or behavioral therapy.

A lot of this work together led to advocacy for recognizing hoarding as an independent diagnosis in the DSM-5. I think official recognition by our “big book” prompted more attention to this population. Previously these patients probably would have been diagnosed with OCD, and it really isn’t appropriate to think of hoarding as purely an anxiety disorder.
 

Hoarding exposure and future mental health

You have a new study, published in Annals of Clinical Psychiatry, looking at mental health among adult children of parents with hoarding problems. Can you tell us what inspired you to run this study, and what you found?

There were a couple of factors.

We’d seen a lot of folks with hoarding in OCD specialty clinics, so my clinical experiences with this population certainly drew me to this general area. But then, at the same time, I have this broad training in child mental health. And childhood trauma or adverse childhood experiences, which can include being around hoarding, can be a very difficult thing to live through and deal with. And here I have to give a lot of credit to Suzanne Chabaud, PhD, of the OCD Institute of Greater New Orleans, who’s one of the coauthors on the paper. She’s been beating the drum of thinking about the family and kids of people with hoarding disorders for years. My interests came from some of those experiences, but she had the good idea of really looking at this problem in a detailed way.
 

Prior to your paper, had there been research on the prevalence of mental illnesses such as anxiety and depression in the children of people with hoarding behaviors?

That particular question was new to our paper. It was the first time anyone, to my knowledge, had looked at a validated assessment of anxiety and depression in this population.

How did you assess their symptoms and what did you find?

We asked study participants to think back on how they felt throughout their teenage years and gauged their responses with the Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ), a measure of mental health disorders. I should say up front that we didn’t have a control group. But we found that among our 414 study participants, somewhere between 30% and 50% reported clinically significant anxiety or depressive symptoms, far higher than you’d expect in the normal population. So when looking back on how they were feeling as teenagers in that environment, they were struggling, and they often felt rejected by their parents.

We also found that almost 10% of participants were threatened with eviction at some point in their childhood; 15% had to live outside of their home at some point, because of the clutter; and 2% had involvement from child protective services and were removed from the home.
 

I know you recruited patients from online forums established by the children of hoarding parents. Presumably, these are the people most affected by this phenomenon. How does this play out in people who simply like to, say, collect something? Is this a continuum of behavior, with a breaking point at which it becomes a pathology?

I think it’s safe to conceptualize collecting and hoarding as a continuum, and you’ve got to draw a line somewhere in terms of clinical significance.

Did you assess whether the children of hoarders were more likely to hoard themselves as adults?

This is our follow-up paper; we haven’t looked at it yet.

But in looking at preliminary data, the prevalence seems pretty low, actually, at least in our sample. And as you mentioned, in our study there were folks who were seeking support specifically because they grew up in a really cluttered home.

Management

How do mental health providers typically address and treat hoarding?

To my knowledge, there are no current Food and Drug Administration–approved medications for hoarding, though psychiatrists will prescribe SSRIs and try to treat co-occurring problems such as depression and anxiety symptoms.

I can speak to cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) in a bit more detail. A number of randomized controlled trials support CBT for hoarding. I mentioned before that when we as a field treated hoarding akin to OCD and did exposure and response prevention therapy, we didn’t really target the specific features of hoarding. People didn’t do that well.

But now researchers are focusing on CBT interventions focused on discarding tasks that really address hoarding. You can create different categories for different items: Patients can either keep them, throw them out, or donate them. You can explore what thoughts or expectations are associated with these items and try to address them. Clinicians can help patients look at, say, different areas of their house and discuss what they might be willing to part with or at least think about parting with. You find their internal motivations for keeping things.

This sort of therapy generally takes longer than it does for, say, OCD. It can be a little bit slower, particularly if someone has a lot of stuff. And often it can involve doing home visits. In the age of Zoom this is a little bit easier because home visits aren’t always feasible.
 

What role does family play in managing hoarding? I imagine that including loved ones and friends in the process could be quite helpful.

Yes, absolutely. And social support, more broadly.

A colleague I worked with did a really interesting study where she looked at psychologist-delivered versus peer-delivered CBT for hoarding. They found that the biggest predictor of improved outcomes was having what they called a “clutter buddy,” which follows the Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor model. This would be somebody else struggling with the same problem who’s an accountability partner helping a patient follow through with their goals related to discarding. I think that finding underscores how important that social support is.
 

Any final thoughts for our audience of clinicians and researchers on how to approach hoarding?

I think there’s been a stigma – at least in psychology circles – that it’s not really treatable because of that earlier work with OCD. But on the CBT side, there’s now good reason to believe that people can live much happier lives and overcome this problem. CBT does seem to work for a lot of people with hoarding. That’s what I’d like to emphasize.

Dr. Stetka is executive editor for Medscape. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Many of us are reluctant to throw things out.

We buy. We accumulate. We collect. Eventually our attics are packed with dusty heirlooms that we rarely, if ever, look at. Eventually we’re forced to pare down and head to the Goodwill.

But not all of us.

Hoarding – or the prolonged difficulty of discarding unneeded possessions – is pervasive in our culture, affecting nearly 3% of the population. This compulsive collecting, and unwillingness to part with “stuff,” is even the subject of multiple popular television series.

How do you conceptualize hoarding behavior?

The core feature of hoarding is the inability to throw things away. This can be due to many different reasons, whether there’s a strong sentimental attachment or the belief that you will need these items one day. Compulsive buying is often involved, and inevitable clutter.

How was hoarding first conceptualized among psychiatrists and psychologists? And when did the term first enter the lexicon?

It was originally conceptualized as a difficult-to-treat subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). A lot of that work identifying this subgroup was going on in the late 1980s and early 1990s. There was a small but growing group of researchers demonstrating that this is fundamentally different from OCD in several ways.

In terms of the clinical presentation, the comorbidity patterns are different from those for OCD. And the course is a little bit different; we see a progressive development across the lifespan, as opposed to a clear-cut diagnosis earlier in life, as is typically seen with OCD. By the time a lot of people seek treatment, they’re often being brought in by, say, family members when they’re a little bit older. With hoarding, there is also this consistent pattern of poor treatment response across the board, whether to selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors or behavioral therapy.

A lot of this work together led to advocacy for recognizing hoarding as an independent diagnosis in the DSM-5. I think official recognition by our “big book” prompted more attention to this population. Previously these patients probably would have been diagnosed with OCD, and it really isn’t appropriate to think of hoarding as purely an anxiety disorder.
 

Hoarding exposure and future mental health

You have a new study, published in Annals of Clinical Psychiatry, looking at mental health among adult children of parents with hoarding problems. Can you tell us what inspired you to run this study, and what you found?

There were a couple of factors.

We’d seen a lot of folks with hoarding in OCD specialty clinics, so my clinical experiences with this population certainly drew me to this general area. But then, at the same time, I have this broad training in child mental health. And childhood trauma or adverse childhood experiences, which can include being around hoarding, can be a very difficult thing to live through and deal with. And here I have to give a lot of credit to Suzanne Chabaud, PhD, of the OCD Institute of Greater New Orleans, who’s one of the coauthors on the paper. She’s been beating the drum of thinking about the family and kids of people with hoarding disorders for years. My interests came from some of those experiences, but she had the good idea of really looking at this problem in a detailed way.
 

Prior to your paper, had there been research on the prevalence of mental illnesses such as anxiety and depression in the children of people with hoarding behaviors?

That particular question was new to our paper. It was the first time anyone, to my knowledge, had looked at a validated assessment of anxiety and depression in this population.

How did you assess their symptoms and what did you find?

We asked study participants to think back on how they felt throughout their teenage years and gauged their responses with the Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ), a measure of mental health disorders. I should say up front that we didn’t have a control group. But we found that among our 414 study participants, somewhere between 30% and 50% reported clinically significant anxiety or depressive symptoms, far higher than you’d expect in the normal population. So when looking back on how they were feeling as teenagers in that environment, they were struggling, and they often felt rejected by their parents.

We also found that almost 10% of participants were threatened with eviction at some point in their childhood; 15% had to live outside of their home at some point, because of the clutter; and 2% had involvement from child protective services and were removed from the home.
 

I know you recruited patients from online forums established by the children of hoarding parents. Presumably, these are the people most affected by this phenomenon. How does this play out in people who simply like to, say, collect something? Is this a continuum of behavior, with a breaking point at which it becomes a pathology?

I think it’s safe to conceptualize collecting and hoarding as a continuum, and you’ve got to draw a line somewhere in terms of clinical significance.

Did you assess whether the children of hoarders were more likely to hoard themselves as adults?

This is our follow-up paper; we haven’t looked at it yet.

But in looking at preliminary data, the prevalence seems pretty low, actually, at least in our sample. And as you mentioned, in our study there were folks who were seeking support specifically because they grew up in a really cluttered home.

Management

How do mental health providers typically address and treat hoarding?

To my knowledge, there are no current Food and Drug Administration–approved medications for hoarding, though psychiatrists will prescribe SSRIs and try to treat co-occurring problems such as depression and anxiety symptoms.

I can speak to cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) in a bit more detail. A number of randomized controlled trials support CBT for hoarding. I mentioned before that when we as a field treated hoarding akin to OCD and did exposure and response prevention therapy, we didn’t really target the specific features of hoarding. People didn’t do that well.

But now researchers are focusing on CBT interventions focused on discarding tasks that really address hoarding. You can create different categories for different items: Patients can either keep them, throw them out, or donate them. You can explore what thoughts or expectations are associated with these items and try to address them. Clinicians can help patients look at, say, different areas of their house and discuss what they might be willing to part with or at least think about parting with. You find their internal motivations for keeping things.

This sort of therapy generally takes longer than it does for, say, OCD. It can be a little bit slower, particularly if someone has a lot of stuff. And often it can involve doing home visits. In the age of Zoom this is a little bit easier because home visits aren’t always feasible.
 

What role does family play in managing hoarding? I imagine that including loved ones and friends in the process could be quite helpful.

Yes, absolutely. And social support, more broadly.

A colleague I worked with did a really interesting study where she looked at psychologist-delivered versus peer-delivered CBT for hoarding. They found that the biggest predictor of improved outcomes was having what they called a “clutter buddy,” which follows the Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor model. This would be somebody else struggling with the same problem who’s an accountability partner helping a patient follow through with their goals related to discarding. I think that finding underscores how important that social support is.
 

Any final thoughts for our audience of clinicians and researchers on how to approach hoarding?

I think there’s been a stigma – at least in psychology circles – that it’s not really treatable because of that earlier work with OCD. But on the CBT side, there’s now good reason to believe that people can live much happier lives and overcome this problem. CBT does seem to work for a lot of people with hoarding. That’s what I’d like to emphasize.

Dr. Stetka is executive editor for Medscape. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

At Wayne State University’s Stress, Trauma, and Anxiety Research Clinic (STARC) in Michigan, researchers are developing novel interventions for treating some very ancient phobias hardwired into the human brain. By using augmented reality as means of conducting exposure therapy, STARC researchers – including Shantanu Madaboosi, Rakesh Ramaswamy, and Lana Grasser – and STARC director Arash Javanbakht, MD, have produced compelling evidence that they can free patients of their often debilitating fears of spiders, dogs, and snakes. Yet their work doesn’t stop there, and research into treating anxiety and posttraumatic stress disorder among first responders and others with high-stress occupations is ongoing.

This news organization spoke with Dr. Javanbakht, a psychiatrist, about the technological advances that have made this work possible; the future of remote-based psychiatry; and his tarantula colleague, Tony.
 

Augmenting exposure therapy

How did you begin using artificial intelligence as a way of delivering exposure therapy?

Exposure therapy is a very effective treatment for phobias, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and PTSD. But the problem we had is that, if someone comes to me and says they’re afraid of dogs, snakes, or spiders, I don’t have those in my office. Or, if its social phobia, I can’t create those scenarios. So, despite being such an effective treatment, it’s not utilized as much as it should be.

Several years ago, I saw a TED talk by the CEO of an augmented reality company who happened to be a neuroscientist. I thought the concept was amazing, because it offered a way to overcome those limitations.

Mixed augmented reality allows us to bring all those feared objects to the clinic. I can bring my Labrador to the office for someone who’s afraid of dogs, and they can get the exposure to that one dog. But we know good exposure therapy needs to be generalizable, with as many different breeds of dogs as possible, and is context dependent. If the patient sees a dog in their neighborhood, their fear response may come back. Doing it in a real-life context, and offering as many contexts as possible, makes it more effective.

Augmented reality allows all of these options because you can have as many different types of virtual objects as you want, and the difference between augmented reality and virtual reality is that augmented reality happens in a real-life context. You wear the goggles and you can walk around the environment and track the object, so the context is more realistic.
 

When did you begin researching augmented reality as a clinical tool?

I became a faculty member here in 2015, right out of my residency training, and I think it was around 2016 or 2017 that we began this work.

I’m very much involved in exposure therapy, utilize it myself, train others, and research how it works and changes the brain. I knew the ins and outs and what would make a better exposure therapy, based on my knowledge of neuroscience.

We spend time thinking about how we can apply these neuroscientific principles in software that can also be easily used by a not very technologically savvy therapist. Because that has been a big barrier when it comes to technology and human use in medicine.

Initially, we had a company create the software for us, but we’ve since brought all the programming inside.

The cool thing about these augmented reality devices is that they have excellent surface mapping. As soon as the person wears the goggles, it automatically maps the surfaces and provides a 3D view of the patient’s environment on the therapist’s computer. Say you’re treating a patient with a fear of spiders. Through drop-down menus, the therapist can choose what type of spider, its color and size, where it should be placed, and the motion. I can choose to move the spider from 6 feet away on the floor to the walls to the ceiling.
 

Virtual phobias, real fear

A big question for a lot of people was if the spiders are virtual, will they be scary, because it has to be realistic enough to create a fear response for the therapy to work. We use a couple of wires that you can put on a person’s finger and hook them up to a tablet or a cell phone. This provides an online measure of a person’s autonomic sympathetic response.

Like a lie detector test?

Exactly. We put that on their fingers and exposed them to a real-life tarantula and to our virtual tarantulas, and the fear response was no different. That means these do create an objective fear reaction in the body.

We also had people who said, “I know this is not real. I won’t be scared.” And when we started the therapy, it was with a tiny spider 5 meters away from them, and they’d lift their legs off the floor.

With the treatment, we’d come to one room and start with a very little spider, far from them. Then gradually we move them up to bigger, more diverse types of spiders, which are moving around. The patient comes near and tries to touch them.

Then at some point, I’d put a spiderweb on the door, put a few spiders on that, open the door, and have the patient walk through it. They kept walking through this spiderweb.

When they were desensitized to these spiders in this context – and as I said, context is important – we’d go to another room. This was darker, more like a basement, and we’d continue the same thing. That would actually take much less time because they already had desensitized a lot.

In our field, sense of control is very important, especially for when a patient goes home. So at the end, I’d leave the room and talk to the patient via a baby monitor. The patient was surrounded by 20 tarantulas, without the prompt moving around the environment.

Now that they’re desensitized to my virtual spiders, the question is, how would that apply to a real spider? So, we had a real live tarantula, whose name was Tony Stark, because we’re the STARC lab. We’d put Tony at the end of a long hallway before the treatment and see how close the patients could get to him.

Everybody who got the treatment was able to touch the tank containing the tarantula. It was only one treatment session; nobody’s was longer than 1 hour, and the average treatment time was 38 minutes.
 

That’s pretty effective.

It’s pretty good, compared with other studies. And I believe this is because of all the components I mentioned: being able to use your real environment; combining it with the real tarantula; the variety of the types of the feared objects; and, of course, giving the patient a sense of autonomy at the end.

Then we had to see how prolonged the effects are. We had them come in 1 week and 1 month after the treatment. I’d remind them of the principles of good exposure therapy and ask them to keep practicing at home between the sessions, looking at pictures and videos. But we never tested who did or did not do it.

After 1 week and 1 month, the effects were either the same or better. A larger number of people at 1 month were able to touch the tarantula than right after treatment.
 

Treating PTSD in first responders

Did you start with spiders and dogs because those are common fears?

We started with spiders because that worked with the initial goal of creating a prototype. Spiders’ behavior is simple enough for the programming, which takes a lot of time. Another reason for choosing spiders was that we had a lot of other studies of real and virtual reality exposure therapy to compare against.

I think another reason for our success is that, when you do real exposure therapy, you have just one scared tarantula in the corner of their tank, and they don’t listen to you. But my spiders listen to me and do exactly what I tell them.

After our initial success, we obtained more funds to expand it to other phobias. The cool thing is that we don’t need separate software for different phobias. You can choose dogs or snakes, add it to the person’s environment, and decide their behaviors.

We just started a clinical trial using dogs, and another group in Turkey is running a clinical trial with dogs. Eastern Michigan University is working with spiders. And a clinic at the University of Nebraska Medical Center is going to start using them in real-world clinics, not for research.

We have another project whose goal is helping reduce the impact of trauma and also treating PTSD in first responders, who are exposed to a lot of horrible things. Rates of PTSD are around 20%-30% among cops, firefighters, and EMS personnel.

They commonly find it very painful being in crowds because the fight-or-flight instinct in the brain is constantly screening for any sign of threat in their environment. We’re working on them walking into an empty room wearing the goggles, and then their therapist can scale the stimulus up and down.

There’ll be two people in front of you talking to each other, and then another group comes in, and people get louder. People can look at you and talk to you. There’s kids running, Fourth of July fireworks, and other things that might bother someone who’s been involved in gun- or explosion-related traumas. You gradually scale up when the person is next to their therapist.

Another thing we’re doing is related to cardiopulmonary resuscitation. If a young person dies in a CPR situation, that is really painful and traumatic. So, for exposure therapy to that, we’re creating a difficult CPR scenario when that person may die. The responder wears the goggles and basically watches a group of people doing CPR while standing next to a therapist who can help them navigate it and then scale it off.

Another goal is combining this with telemedicine, where the person can do it in their real-life environment. Imagine a person with military trauma. You can put them back in the barracks, connected with their psychiatrists via telemedicine. Then we would put humans in military fatigues near them and have them interact with them to feel comfortable with that situation.
 

What else is next for you and your group?

The next biggest challenge that we’re tackling is PTSD, because of course creating human-encounter scenarios is much more complicated than spiders and dogs. We’re in the midst of developing this so we can basically bring it to people’s homes.

We’ve been working with some military personnel to see if we can basically give a device to a veteran with PTSD, so they can go home and practice on their own.

There’s another possibility for training. Let’s take the example of a police force, which can have a lot of difficulties and mistakes because of lack of exposure and training. They can wear these goggles, get fully geared up, and be placed in encounters with people of different backgrounds, of different severity, with people who could be severely mentally ill or present different challenges for the officers.

Those situations can teach them a lot. I’m the creator of this thing, but even I’m often surprised by how realistic this technology can be. I find myself interacting with avatars the same way I would if they were real humans. I actually had one of my colleagues, when we started launching the programming with the dogs, immediately jump back. It’s just like the animal brain reacts to them.
 

Last question: Do you actually interact with Tony, the tarantula?

Oh, Tony is my friend. Unfortunately, he’s not with our lab at this moment. He’s on a sabbatical at Eastern Michigan University for their clinical trials. But yes, I’ve held him. He’s very friendly.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

At Wayne State University’s Stress, Trauma, and Anxiety Research Clinic (STARC) in Michigan, researchers are developing novel interventions for treating some very ancient phobias hardwired into the human brain. By using augmented reality as means of conducting exposure therapy, STARC researchers – including Shantanu Madaboosi, Rakesh Ramaswamy, and Lana Grasser – and STARC director Arash Javanbakht, MD, have produced compelling evidence that they can free patients of their often debilitating fears of spiders, dogs, and snakes. Yet their work doesn’t stop there, and research into treating anxiety and posttraumatic stress disorder among first responders and others with high-stress occupations is ongoing.

This news organization spoke with Dr. Javanbakht, a psychiatrist, about the technological advances that have made this work possible; the future of remote-based psychiatry; and his tarantula colleague, Tony.
 

Augmenting exposure therapy

How did you begin using artificial intelligence as a way of delivering exposure therapy?

Exposure therapy is a very effective treatment for phobias, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and PTSD. But the problem we had is that, if someone comes to me and says they’re afraid of dogs, snakes, or spiders, I don’t have those in my office. Or, if its social phobia, I can’t create those scenarios. So, despite being such an effective treatment, it’s not utilized as much as it should be.

Several years ago, I saw a TED talk by the CEO of an augmented reality company who happened to be a neuroscientist. I thought the concept was amazing, because it offered a way to overcome those limitations.

Mixed augmented reality allows us to bring all those feared objects to the clinic. I can bring my Labrador to the office for someone who’s afraid of dogs, and they can get the exposure to that one dog. But we know good exposure therapy needs to be generalizable, with as many different breeds of dogs as possible, and is context dependent. If the patient sees a dog in their neighborhood, their fear response may come back. Doing it in a real-life context, and offering as many contexts as possible, makes it more effective.

Augmented reality allows all of these options because you can have as many different types of virtual objects as you want, and the difference between augmented reality and virtual reality is that augmented reality happens in a real-life context. You wear the goggles and you can walk around the environment and track the object, so the context is more realistic.
 

When did you begin researching augmented reality as a clinical tool?

I became a faculty member here in 2015, right out of my residency training, and I think it was around 2016 or 2017 that we began this work.

I’m very much involved in exposure therapy, utilize it myself, train others, and research how it works and changes the brain. I knew the ins and outs and what would make a better exposure therapy, based on my knowledge of neuroscience.

We spend time thinking about how we can apply these neuroscientific principles in software that can also be easily used by a not very technologically savvy therapist. Because that has been a big barrier when it comes to technology and human use in medicine.

Initially, we had a company create the software for us, but we’ve since brought all the programming inside.

The cool thing about these augmented reality devices is that they have excellent surface mapping. As soon as the person wears the goggles, it automatically maps the surfaces and provides a 3D view of the patient’s environment on the therapist’s computer. Say you’re treating a patient with a fear of spiders. Through drop-down menus, the therapist can choose what type of spider, its color and size, where it should be placed, and the motion. I can choose to move the spider from 6 feet away on the floor to the walls to the ceiling.
 

Virtual phobias, real fear

A big question for a lot of people was if the spiders are virtual, will they be scary, because it has to be realistic enough to create a fear response for the therapy to work. We use a couple of wires that you can put on a person’s finger and hook them up to a tablet or a cell phone. This provides an online measure of a person’s autonomic sympathetic response.

Like a lie detector test?

Exactly. We put that on their fingers and exposed them to a real-life tarantula and to our virtual tarantulas, and the fear response was no different. That means these do create an objective fear reaction in the body.

We also had people who said, “I know this is not real. I won’t be scared.” And when we started the therapy, it was with a tiny spider 5 meters away from them, and they’d lift their legs off the floor.

With the treatment, we’d come to one room and start with a very little spider, far from them. Then gradually we move them up to bigger, more diverse types of spiders, which are moving around. The patient comes near and tries to touch them.

Then at some point, I’d put a spiderweb on the door, put a few spiders on that, open the door, and have the patient walk through it. They kept walking through this spiderweb.

When they were desensitized to these spiders in this context – and as I said, context is important – we’d go to another room. This was darker, more like a basement, and we’d continue the same thing. That would actually take much less time because they already had desensitized a lot.

In our field, sense of control is very important, especially for when a patient goes home. So at the end, I’d leave the room and talk to the patient via a baby monitor. The patient was surrounded by 20 tarantulas, without the prompt moving around the environment.

Now that they’re desensitized to my virtual spiders, the question is, how would that apply to a real spider? So, we had a real live tarantula, whose name was Tony Stark, because we’re the STARC lab. We’d put Tony at the end of a long hallway before the treatment and see how close the patients could get to him.

Everybody who got the treatment was able to touch the tank containing the tarantula. It was only one treatment session; nobody’s was longer than 1 hour, and the average treatment time was 38 minutes.
 

That’s pretty effective.

It’s pretty good, compared with other studies. And I believe this is because of all the components I mentioned: being able to use your real environment; combining it with the real tarantula; the variety of the types of the feared objects; and, of course, giving the patient a sense of autonomy at the end.

Then we had to see how prolonged the effects are. We had them come in 1 week and 1 month after the treatment. I’d remind them of the principles of good exposure therapy and ask them to keep practicing at home between the sessions, looking at pictures and videos. But we never tested who did or did not do it.

After 1 week and 1 month, the effects were either the same or better. A larger number of people at 1 month were able to touch the tarantula than right after treatment.
 

Treating PTSD in first responders

Did you start with spiders and dogs because those are common fears?

We started with spiders because that worked with the initial goal of creating a prototype. Spiders’ behavior is simple enough for the programming, which takes a lot of time. Another reason for choosing spiders was that we had a lot of other studies of real and virtual reality exposure therapy to compare against.

I think another reason for our success is that, when you do real exposure therapy, you have just one scared tarantula in the corner of their tank, and they don’t listen to you. But my spiders listen to me and do exactly what I tell them.

After our initial success, we obtained more funds to expand it to other phobias. The cool thing is that we don’t need separate software for different phobias. You can choose dogs or snakes, add it to the person’s environment, and decide their behaviors.

We just started a clinical trial using dogs, and another group in Turkey is running a clinical trial with dogs. Eastern Michigan University is working with spiders. And a clinic at the University of Nebraska Medical Center is going to start using them in real-world clinics, not for research.

We have another project whose goal is helping reduce the impact of trauma and also treating PTSD in first responders, who are exposed to a lot of horrible things. Rates of PTSD are around 20%-30% among cops, firefighters, and EMS personnel.

They commonly find it very painful being in crowds because the fight-or-flight instinct in the brain is constantly screening for any sign of threat in their environment. We’re working on them walking into an empty room wearing the goggles, and then their therapist can scale the stimulus up and down.

There’ll be two people in front of you talking to each other, and then another group comes in, and people get louder. People can look at you and talk to you. There’s kids running, Fourth of July fireworks, and other things that might bother someone who’s been involved in gun- or explosion-related traumas. You gradually scale up when the person is next to their therapist.

Another thing we’re doing is related to cardiopulmonary resuscitation. If a young person dies in a CPR situation, that is really painful and traumatic. So, for exposure therapy to that, we’re creating a difficult CPR scenario when that person may die. The responder wears the goggles and basically watches a group of people doing CPR while standing next to a therapist who can help them navigate it and then scale it off.

Another goal is combining this with telemedicine, where the person can do it in their real-life environment. Imagine a person with military trauma. You can put them back in the barracks, connected with their psychiatrists via telemedicine. Then we would put humans in military fatigues near them and have them interact with them to feel comfortable with that situation.
 

What else is next for you and your group?

The next biggest challenge that we’re tackling is PTSD, because of course creating human-encounter scenarios is much more complicated than spiders and dogs. We’re in the midst of developing this so we can basically bring it to people’s homes.

We’ve been working with some military personnel to see if we can basically give a device to a veteran with PTSD, so they can go home and practice on their own.

There’s another possibility for training. Let’s take the example of a police force, which can have a lot of difficulties and mistakes because of lack of exposure and training. They can wear these goggles, get fully geared up, and be placed in encounters with people of different backgrounds, of different severity, with people who could be severely mentally ill or present different challenges for the officers.

Those situations can teach them a lot. I’m the creator of this thing, but even I’m often surprised by how realistic this technology can be. I find myself interacting with avatars the same way I would if they were real humans. I actually had one of my colleagues, when we started launching the programming with the dogs, immediately jump back. It’s just like the animal brain reacts to them.
 

Last question: Do you actually interact with Tony, the tarantula?

Oh, Tony is my friend. Unfortunately, he’s not with our lab at this moment. He’s on a sabbatical at Eastern Michigan University for their clinical trials. But yes, I’ve held him. He’s very friendly.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

At Wayne State University’s Stress, Trauma, and Anxiety Research Clinic (STARC) in Michigan, researchers are developing novel interventions for treating some very ancient phobias hardwired into the human brain. By using augmented reality as means of conducting exposure therapy, STARC researchers – including Shantanu Madaboosi, Rakesh Ramaswamy, and Lana Grasser – and STARC director Arash Javanbakht, MD, have produced compelling evidence that they can free patients of their often debilitating fears of spiders, dogs, and snakes. Yet their work doesn’t stop there, and research into treating anxiety and posttraumatic stress disorder among first responders and others with high-stress occupations is ongoing.

This news organization spoke with Dr. Javanbakht, a psychiatrist, about the technological advances that have made this work possible; the future of remote-based psychiatry; and his tarantula colleague, Tony.
 

Augmenting exposure therapy

How did you begin using artificial intelligence as a way of delivering exposure therapy?

Exposure therapy is a very effective treatment for phobias, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and PTSD. But the problem we had is that, if someone comes to me and says they’re afraid of dogs, snakes, or spiders, I don’t have those in my office. Or, if its social phobia, I can’t create those scenarios. So, despite being such an effective treatment, it’s not utilized as much as it should be.

Several years ago, I saw a TED talk by the CEO of an augmented reality company who happened to be a neuroscientist. I thought the concept was amazing, because it offered a way to overcome those limitations.

Mixed augmented reality allows us to bring all those feared objects to the clinic. I can bring my Labrador to the office for someone who’s afraid of dogs, and they can get the exposure to that one dog. But we know good exposure therapy needs to be generalizable, with as many different breeds of dogs as possible, and is context dependent. If the patient sees a dog in their neighborhood, their fear response may come back. Doing it in a real-life context, and offering as many contexts as possible, makes it more effective.

Augmented reality allows all of these options because you can have as many different types of virtual objects as you want, and the difference between augmented reality and virtual reality is that augmented reality happens in a real-life context. You wear the goggles and you can walk around the environment and track the object, so the context is more realistic.
 

When did you begin researching augmented reality as a clinical tool?

I became a faculty member here in 2015, right out of my residency training, and I think it was around 2016 or 2017 that we began this work.

I’m very much involved in exposure therapy, utilize it myself, train others, and research how it works and changes the brain. I knew the ins and outs and what would make a better exposure therapy, based on my knowledge of neuroscience.

We spend time thinking about how we can apply these neuroscientific principles in software that can also be easily used by a not very technologically savvy therapist. Because that has been a big barrier when it comes to technology and human use in medicine.

Initially, we had a company create the software for us, but we’ve since brought all the programming inside.

The cool thing about these augmented reality devices is that they have excellent surface mapping. As soon as the person wears the goggles, it automatically maps the surfaces and provides a 3D view of the patient’s environment on the therapist’s computer. Say you’re treating a patient with a fear of spiders. Through drop-down menus, the therapist can choose what type of spider, its color and size, where it should be placed, and the motion. I can choose to move the spider from 6 feet away on the floor to the walls to the ceiling.
 

Virtual phobias, real fear

A big question for a lot of people was if the spiders are virtual, will they be scary, because it has to be realistic enough to create a fear response for the therapy to work. We use a couple of wires that you can put on a person’s finger and hook them up to a tablet or a cell phone. This provides an online measure of a person’s autonomic sympathetic response.

Like a lie detector test?

Exactly. We put that on their fingers and exposed them to a real-life tarantula and to our virtual tarantulas, and the fear response was no different. That means these do create an objective fear reaction in the body.

We also had people who said, “I know this is not real. I won’t be scared.” And when we started the therapy, it was with a tiny spider 5 meters away from them, and they’d lift their legs off the floor.

With the treatment, we’d come to one room and start with a very little spider, far from them. Then gradually we move them up to bigger, more diverse types of spiders, which are moving around. The patient comes near and tries to touch them.

Then at some point, I’d put a spiderweb on the door, put a few spiders on that, open the door, and have the patient walk through it. They kept walking through this spiderweb.

When they were desensitized to these spiders in this context – and as I said, context is important – we’d go to another room. This was darker, more like a basement, and we’d continue the same thing. That would actually take much less time because they already had desensitized a lot.

In our field, sense of control is very important, especially for when a patient goes home. So at the end, I’d leave the room and talk to the patient via a baby monitor. The patient was surrounded by 20 tarantulas, without the prompt moving around the environment.

Now that they’re desensitized to my virtual spiders, the question is, how would that apply to a real spider? So, we had a real live tarantula, whose name was Tony Stark, because we’re the STARC lab. We’d put Tony at the end of a long hallway before the treatment and see how close the patients could get to him.

Everybody who got the treatment was able to touch the tank containing the tarantula. It was only one treatment session; nobody’s was longer than 1 hour, and the average treatment time was 38 minutes.
 

That’s pretty effective.

It’s pretty good, compared with other studies. And I believe this is because of all the components I mentioned: being able to use your real environment; combining it with the real tarantula; the variety of the types of the feared objects; and, of course, giving the patient a sense of autonomy at the end.

Then we had to see how prolonged the effects are. We had them come in 1 week and 1 month after the treatment. I’d remind them of the principles of good exposure therapy and ask them to keep practicing at home between the sessions, looking at pictures and videos. But we never tested who did or did not do it.

After 1 week and 1 month, the effects were either the same or better. A larger number of people at 1 month were able to touch the tarantula than right after treatment.
 

Treating PTSD in first responders

Did you start with spiders and dogs because those are common fears?

We started with spiders because that worked with the initial goal of creating a prototype. Spiders’ behavior is simple enough for the programming, which takes a lot of time. Another reason for choosing spiders was that we had a lot of other studies of real and virtual reality exposure therapy to compare against.

I think another reason for our success is that, when you do real exposure therapy, you have just one scared tarantula in the corner of their tank, and they don’t listen to you. But my spiders listen to me and do exactly what I tell them.

After our initial success, we obtained more funds to expand it to other phobias. The cool thing is that we don’t need separate software for different phobias. You can choose dogs or snakes, add it to the person’s environment, and decide their behaviors.

We just started a clinical trial using dogs, and another group in Turkey is running a clinical trial with dogs. Eastern Michigan University is working with spiders. And a clinic at the University of Nebraska Medical Center is going to start using them in real-world clinics, not for research.

We have another project whose goal is helping reduce the impact of trauma and also treating PTSD in first responders, who are exposed to a lot of horrible things. Rates of PTSD are around 20%-30% among cops, firefighters, and EMS personnel.

They commonly find it very painful being in crowds because the fight-or-flight instinct in the brain is constantly screening for any sign of threat in their environment. We’re working on them walking into an empty room wearing the goggles, and then their therapist can scale the stimulus up and down.

There’ll be two people in front of you talking to each other, and then another group comes in, and people get louder. People can look at you and talk to you. There’s kids running, Fourth of July fireworks, and other things that might bother someone who’s been involved in gun- or explosion-related traumas. You gradually scale up when the person is next to their therapist.

Another thing we’re doing is related to cardiopulmonary resuscitation. If a young person dies in a CPR situation, that is really painful and traumatic. So, for exposure therapy to that, we’re creating a difficult CPR scenario when that person may die. The responder wears the goggles and basically watches a group of people doing CPR while standing next to a therapist who can help them navigate it and then scale it off.

Another goal is combining this with telemedicine, where the person can do it in their real-life environment. Imagine a person with military trauma. You can put them back in the barracks, connected with their psychiatrists via telemedicine. Then we would put humans in military fatigues near them and have them interact with them to feel comfortable with that situation.
 

What else is next for you and your group?

The next biggest challenge that we’re tackling is PTSD, because of course creating human-encounter scenarios is much more complicated than spiders and dogs. We’re in the midst of developing this so we can basically bring it to people’s homes.

We’ve been working with some military personnel to see if we can basically give a device to a veteran with PTSD, so they can go home and practice on their own.

There’s another possibility for training. Let’s take the example of a police force, which can have a lot of difficulties and mistakes because of lack of exposure and training. They can wear these goggles, get fully geared up, and be placed in encounters with people of different backgrounds, of different severity, with people who could be severely mentally ill or present different challenges for the officers.

Those situations can teach them a lot. I’m the creator of this thing, but even I’m often surprised by how realistic this technology can be. I find myself interacting with avatars the same way I would if they were real humans. I actually had one of my colleagues, when we started launching the programming with the dogs, immediately jump back. It’s just like the animal brain reacts to them.
 

Last question: Do you actually interact with Tony, the tarantula?

Oh, Tony is my friend. Unfortunately, he’s not with our lab at this moment. He’s on a sabbatical at Eastern Michigan University for their clinical trials. But yes, I’ve held him. He’s very friendly.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The prolonged and unique stresses imparted by the COVID-19 pandemic has many predicting a significant rise in mental health issues in the weeks, months, and years ahead.

To understand how health care workers can best get ahead of this emerging crisis within a crisis, Medscape Psychiatry editorial director Bret Stetka, MD, spoke with Sheila Rauch, PhD, who’s with the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the Emory University, Atlanta. The director of Mental Health Research and Program Evaluation at the Atlanta VA Medical Center, Dr. Rauch has studied the effects of and best treatments for posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and anxiety disorders over the past 20 years.
 

Are we going to see a PTSD or anxiety epidemic as a result of the pandemic?

First, I think it’s really important that we prepare for the worst but hope for the best. But I would expect that, given the high levels of stress, the impact on resources, and other factors, we are going to see a pretty significant mental health impact over time. This could be the new normal for a while. Some of that will be PTSD, but there will also be other things. I would suspect that the resulting increase in rates of depression, traumatic grief, and loss is probably going to be a significant issue for years to come.

What will the anxiety we see as a result of COVID-19 look like compared with that seen in past disasters, like 9/11?

Most disasters in recent history, like 9/11, are single incidents. Something horrible happened, it impacted people at different levels, and we were able to start putting the pieces back together right away. The prolonged nature of this pandemic makes it even more variable given that the impact is going to be extended over time.

We’re also going to see a lot more people with compound impact – people who’ve lost their jobs, loved ones, maybe even their homes. All of those financial and resource losses put people in a higher risk category for negative mental health outcomes.
 

Is this analogous to the prolonged trauma that can occur with military service during war?

There is some similarity there. Combat is kind of an overarching context in which people experience trauma and, much like this pandemic, may or may not have traumatic exposures during it.

We’re asking health care workers to actually be in a role similar to what we ask of our military: going into danger, sometimes even without proper protective equipment, in order to save the lives of others. That’s also something we need to be factoring in as we plan to support those people and their families.
 

This is an ongoing incident, but is there a time window we need to be particularly worried about for seeing spikes in anxiety and PTSD?

I think we’re going to see variability on that. PTSD is a disorder that’s related to a specific incident or a couple of incidents that are similar. It’s a memory that’s haunting you.

For instance, typically if you have a combat veteran who has PTSD, they’ve been exposed to the overarching context of combat but then they have specific memories that are stuck. If they don’t have PTSD about 3-6 months after those incidents happen, then we would expect that they will not develop it, or it’s much less common that they would.

Depression has a very different course. It’s more prolonged and tends to grow with time.
 

Are you already seeing increased symptoms in your patients?

We’re seeing more anxiety, a lot of frustration, and a lot of very strong feelings about the leadership decisions that are being made. This is pretty similar to what we see in combat veterans. They’ll often be unhappy with the leadership decisions that were made as they were being deployed.

We’re also seeing lots more anger, sadness, and isolation now. Especially over the past couple of weeks, we’ve seen a rise in things like people reaching out for help in our intakes because we’re still open and doing phone assessments and telehealth with veterans and the veterans program.
 

In terms of interventions for this, what should psychiatrists, psychologists, and other clinicians be thinking about?

Right now, the best thing that we can do as mental health providers for people affected by the trauma is provide crisis intervention for those saying they are a danger to themselves and others. That means providing coping strategies and support. It also means making sure people are taking breaks and taking care of themselves, taking that little bit of time off so that they can go back, fully recharged, to their jobs and really stay there.

As we move forward, it will be clearer whether people are going to naturally recover, which most people will. For those who are going to have ongoing problems with time, we need to be getting ready as a system and as a country for those long-term mental health issues that are going to be coming up. And when I say long-term, it means the next 1-3 months. We want to be providing preventive interventions, versions of prolonged exposure, and other things that have shown some help in preventing PTSD. Psychological first aid is helpful.

There’s also an app called COVID Coach that the National Center for PTSD has created. That features a lot of positive coping resources together in one source.

Then when we get to the middle of that point and beyond it, we need to be ready to provide those evidence-based interventions for PTSD, depression, panic disorder, and other issues that are going to come out of this current situation.

But we were already short-staffed as far as mental health resources in general across the country, and especially in rural areas. So that means finding ways to efficiently use what we have through potentially briefer versions of interventions, through primary care, mental health, and other staff.
 

In what ways can primary care providers help?

There are versions of prolonged exposure therapy for primary care. That’s one of my big areas of research – increasing access. That would be something that we need to be building, by training and embedding mental health providers in primary care settings so that they can help to accommodate the increased need for access that’s going to be showing up for the next, I would suspect, several years with the pandemic.

Is there evidence that a prior episode of PTSD or traumatic experience like combat influences a subsequent reaction to a trauma like this?

It depends on how they manage. Research suggests that veterans or other people who have experienced trauma and naturally recovered, or who have gotten good treatment and remitted from that issue, are probably at no higher risk. But people who have subsyndromal PTSD or depression, or who are still experiencing symptoms from a history of trauma exposure, are maybe at a higher risk of having problems over time.

Do you have any guidance for healthcare providers on how to approach the pandemic with their patients, and also on how they can look after their own mental health?

In talking to patients, make sure that they have what they need. Ask if they’ve thought through how they’re going to cope if things get harder for them.

For people who have preexisting mental health issues, I’m talking with them about whether things have gotten worse. If they’re at high risk for suicide, I’m checking in to make sure that they’ve got new plans and ways to connect with people to reduce isolation, keeping in mind the social distancing that we’re asked to engage in so that they can do that safely.

It’s important to check and see if they have had any losses, whether it’s a financial loss or a personal loss of people that they care about. Also have them think through ways to stay entertained, which tends to help manage their own anxiety.

Every coping strategy we outline for patients also applies to mental health professionals. However, you would add to it the real need to take time to recharge, to take breaks, time off. It can feel overwhelming and like you need to just keep going. But the more that you get stuck in that mode of overdoing it, the less effective you’re going to be in helping people and also the more likely that you’ll be at risk of perhaps being one of the people that needs help.

It’s also important to make sure you’re staying connected with family and friends virtually, in whatever ways you can safely do that with social distancing.
 

So take a break to watch some Netflix now and then?

Yes!
 

A version of this article originally appeared on Medscape.com.

The prolonged and unique stresses imparted by the COVID-19 pandemic has many predicting a significant rise in mental health issues in the weeks, months, and years ahead.

To understand how health care workers can best get ahead of this emerging crisis within a crisis, Medscape Psychiatry editorial director Bret Stetka, MD, spoke with Sheila Rauch, PhD, who’s with the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the Emory University, Atlanta. The director of Mental Health Research and Program Evaluation at the Atlanta VA Medical Center, Dr. Rauch has studied the effects of and best treatments for posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and anxiety disorders over the past 20 years.
 

Are we going to see a PTSD or anxiety epidemic as a result of the pandemic?

First, I think it’s really important that we prepare for the worst but hope for the best. But I would expect that, given the high levels of stress, the impact on resources, and other factors, we are going to see a pretty significant mental health impact over time. This could be the new normal for a while. Some of that will be PTSD, but there will also be other things. I would suspect that the resulting increase in rates of depression, traumatic grief, and loss is probably going to be a significant issue for years to come.

What will the anxiety we see as a result of COVID-19 look like compared with that seen in past disasters, like 9/11?

Most disasters in recent history, like 9/11, are single incidents. Something horrible happened, it impacted people at different levels, and we were able to start putting the pieces back together right away. The prolonged nature of this pandemic makes it even more variable given that the impact is going to be extended over time.

We’re also going to see a lot more people with compound impact – people who’ve lost their jobs, loved ones, maybe even their homes. All of those financial and resource losses put people in a higher risk category for negative mental health outcomes.
 

Is this analogous to the prolonged trauma that can occur with military service during war?

There is some similarity there. Combat is kind of an overarching context in which people experience trauma and, much like this pandemic, may or may not have traumatic exposures during it.

We’re asking health care workers to actually be in a role similar to what we ask of our military: going into danger, sometimes even without proper protective equipment, in order to save the lives of others. That’s also something we need to be factoring in as we plan to support those people and their families.
 

This is an ongoing incident, but is there a time window we need to be particularly worried about for seeing spikes in anxiety and PTSD?

I think we’re going to see variability on that. PTSD is a disorder that’s related to a specific incident or a couple of incidents that are similar. It’s a memory that’s haunting you.

For instance, typically if you have a combat veteran who has PTSD, they’ve been exposed to the overarching context of combat but then they have specific memories that are stuck. If they don’t have PTSD about 3-6 months after those incidents happen, then we would expect that they will not develop it, or it’s much less common that they would.

Depression has a very different course. It’s more prolonged and tends to grow with time.
 

Are you already seeing increased symptoms in your patients?

We’re seeing more anxiety, a lot of frustration, and a lot of very strong feelings about the leadership decisions that are being made. This is pretty similar to what we see in combat veterans. They’ll often be unhappy with the leadership decisions that were made as they were being deployed.

We’re also seeing lots more anger, sadness, and isolation now. Especially over the past couple of weeks, we’ve seen a rise in things like people reaching out for help in our intakes because we’re still open and doing phone assessments and telehealth with veterans and the veterans program.
 

In terms of interventions for this, what should psychiatrists, psychologists, and other clinicians be thinking about?

Right now, the best thing that we can do as mental health providers for people affected by the trauma is provide crisis intervention for those saying they are a danger to themselves and others. That means providing coping strategies and support. It also means making sure people are taking breaks and taking care of themselves, taking that little bit of time off so that they can go back, fully recharged, to their jobs and really stay there.

As we move forward, it will be clearer whether people are going to naturally recover, which most people will. For those who are going to have ongoing problems with time, we need to be getting ready as a system and as a country for those long-term mental health issues that are going to be coming up. And when I say long-term, it means the next 1-3 months. We want to be providing preventive interventions, versions of prolonged exposure, and other things that have shown some help in preventing PTSD. Psychological first aid is helpful.

There’s also an app called COVID Coach that the National Center for PTSD has created. That features a lot of positive coping resources together in one source.

Then when we get to the middle of that point and beyond it, we need to be ready to provide those evidence-based interventions for PTSD, depression, panic disorder, and other issues that are going to come out of this current situation.

But we were already short-staffed as far as mental health resources in general across the country, and especially in rural areas. So that means finding ways to efficiently use what we have through potentially briefer versions of interventions, through primary care, mental health, and other staff.
 

In what ways can primary care providers help?

There are versions of prolonged exposure therapy for primary care. That’s one of my big areas of research – increasing access. That would be something that we need to be building, by training and embedding mental health providers in primary care settings so that they can help to accommodate the increased need for access that’s going to be showing up for the next, I would suspect, several years with the pandemic.

Is there evidence that a prior episode of PTSD or traumatic experience like combat influences a subsequent reaction to a trauma like this?

It depends on how they manage. Research suggests that veterans or other people who have experienced trauma and naturally recovered, or who have gotten good treatment and remitted from that issue, are probably at no higher risk. But people who have subsyndromal PTSD or depression, or who are still experiencing symptoms from a history of trauma exposure, are maybe at a higher risk of having problems over time.

Do you have any guidance for healthcare providers on how to approach the pandemic with their patients, and also on how they can look after their own mental health?

In talking to patients, make sure that they have what they need. Ask if they’ve thought through how they’re going to cope if things get harder for them.

For people who have preexisting mental health issues, I’m talking with them about whether things have gotten worse. If they’re at high risk for suicide, I’m checking in to make sure that they’ve got new plans and ways to connect with people to reduce isolation, keeping in mind the social distancing that we’re asked to engage in so that they can do that safely.

It’s important to check and see if they have had any losses, whether it’s a financial loss or a personal loss of people that they care about. Also have them think through ways to stay entertained, which tends to help manage their own anxiety.

Every coping strategy we outline for patients also applies to mental health professionals. However, you would add to it the real need to take time to recharge, to take breaks, time off. It can feel overwhelming and like you need to just keep going. But the more that you get stuck in that mode of overdoing it, the less effective you’re going to be in helping people and also the more likely that you’ll be at risk of perhaps being one of the people that needs help.

It’s also important to make sure you’re staying connected with family and friends virtually, in whatever ways you can safely do that with social distancing.
 

So take a break to watch some Netflix now and then?

Yes!
 

A version of this article originally appeared on Medscape.com.

The prolonged and unique stresses imparted by the COVID-19 pandemic has many predicting a significant rise in mental health issues in the weeks, months, and years ahead.

To understand how health care workers can best get ahead of this emerging crisis within a crisis, Medscape Psychiatry editorial director Bret Stetka, MD, spoke with Sheila Rauch, PhD, who’s with the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the Emory University, Atlanta. The director of Mental Health Research and Program Evaluation at the Atlanta VA Medical Center, Dr. Rauch has studied the effects of and best treatments for posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and anxiety disorders over the past 20 years.
 

Are we going to see a PTSD or anxiety epidemic as a result of the pandemic?

First, I think it’s really important that we prepare for the worst but hope for the best. But I would expect that, given the high levels of stress, the impact on resources, and other factors, we are going to see a pretty significant mental health impact over time. This could be the new normal for a while. Some of that will be PTSD, but there will also be other things. I would suspect that the resulting increase in rates of depression, traumatic grief, and loss is probably going to be a significant issue for years to come.

What will the anxiety we see as a result of COVID-19 look like compared with that seen in past disasters, like 9/11?

Most disasters in recent history, like 9/11, are single incidents. Something horrible happened, it impacted people at different levels, and we were able to start putting the pieces back together right away. The prolonged nature of this pandemic makes it even more variable given that the impact is going to be extended over time.

We’re also going to see a lot more people with compound impact – people who’ve lost their jobs, loved ones, maybe even their homes. All of those financial and resource losses put people in a higher risk category for negative mental health outcomes.
 

Is this analogous to the prolonged trauma that can occur with military service during war?

There is some similarity there. Combat is kind of an overarching context in which people experience trauma and, much like this pandemic, may or may not have traumatic exposures during it.

We’re asking health care workers to actually be in a role similar to what we ask of our military: going into danger, sometimes even without proper protective equipment, in order to save the lives of others. That’s also something we need to be factoring in as we plan to support those people and their families.
 

This is an ongoing incident, but is there a time window we need to be particularly worried about for seeing spikes in anxiety and PTSD?

I think we’re going to see variability on that. PTSD is a disorder that’s related to a specific incident or a couple of incidents that are similar. It’s a memory that’s haunting you.

For instance, typically if you have a combat veteran who has PTSD, they’ve been exposed to the overarching context of combat but then they have specific memories that are stuck. If they don’t have PTSD about 3-6 months after those incidents happen, then we would expect that they will not develop it, or it’s much less common that they would.

Depression has a very different course. It’s more prolonged and tends to grow with time.
 

Are you already seeing increased symptoms in your patients?

We’re seeing more anxiety, a lot of frustration, and a lot of very strong feelings about the leadership decisions that are being made. This is pretty similar to what we see in combat veterans. They’ll often be unhappy with the leadership decisions that were made as they were being deployed.

We’re also seeing lots more anger, sadness, and isolation now. Especially over the past couple of weeks, we’ve seen a rise in things like people reaching out for help in our intakes because we’re still open and doing phone assessments and telehealth with veterans and the veterans program.
 

In terms of interventions for this, what should psychiatrists, psychologists, and other clinicians be thinking about?

Right now, the best thing that we can do as mental health providers for people affected by the trauma is provide crisis intervention for those saying they are a danger to themselves and others. That means providing coping strategies and support. It also means making sure people are taking breaks and taking care of themselves, taking that little bit of time off so that they can go back, fully recharged, to their jobs and really stay there.

As we move forward, it will be clearer whether people are going to naturally recover, which most people will. For those who are going to have ongoing problems with time, we need to be getting ready as a system and as a country for those long-term mental health issues that are going to be coming up. And when I say long-term, it means the next 1-3 months. We want to be providing preventive interventions, versions of prolonged exposure, and other things that have shown some help in preventing PTSD. Psychological first aid is helpful.

There’s also an app called COVID Coach that the National Center for PTSD has created. That features a lot of positive coping resources together in one source.

Then when we get to the middle of that point and beyond it, we need to be ready to provide those evidence-based interventions for PTSD, depression, panic disorder, and other issues that are going to come out of this current situation.

But we were already short-staffed as far as mental health resources in general across the country, and especially in rural areas. So that means finding ways to efficiently use what we have through potentially briefer versions of interventions, through primary care, mental health, and other staff.
 

In what ways can primary care providers help?

There are versions of prolonged exposure therapy for primary care. That’s one of my big areas of research – increasing access. That would be something that we need to be building, by training and embedding mental health providers in primary care settings so that they can help to accommodate the increased need for access that’s going to be showing up for the next, I would suspect, several years with the pandemic.

Is there evidence that a prior episode of PTSD or traumatic experience like combat influences a subsequent reaction to a trauma like this?

It depends on how they manage. Research suggests that veterans or other people who have experienced trauma and naturally recovered, or who have gotten good treatment and remitted from that issue, are probably at no higher risk. But people who have subsyndromal PTSD or depression, or who are still experiencing symptoms from a history of trauma exposure, are maybe at a higher risk of having problems over time.

Do you have any guidance for healthcare providers on how to approach the pandemic with their patients, and also on how they can look after their own mental health?

In talking to patients, make sure that they have what they need. Ask if they’ve thought through how they’re going to cope if things get harder for them.

For people who have preexisting mental health issues, I’m talking with them about whether things have gotten worse. If they’re at high risk for suicide, I’m checking in to make sure that they’ve got new plans and ways to connect with people to reduce isolation, keeping in mind the social distancing that we’re asked to engage in so that they can do that safely.

It’s important to check and see if they have had any losses, whether it’s a financial loss or a personal loss of people that they care about. Also have them think through ways to stay entertained, which tends to help manage their own anxiety.

Every coping strategy we outline for patients also applies to mental health professionals. However, you would add to it the real need to take time to recharge, to take breaks, time off. It can feel overwhelming and like you need to just keep going. But the more that you get stuck in that mode of overdoing it, the less effective you’re going to be in helping people and also the more likely that you’ll be at risk of perhaps being one of the people that needs help.

It’s also important to make sure you’re staying connected with family and friends virtually, in whatever ways you can safely do that with social distancing.
 

So take a break to watch some Netflix now and then?

Yes!
 

A version of this article originally appeared on Medscape.com.

Jails provide ideal conditions for the spread of COVID-19, as made clear by the distressing stories coming out of New York City. Beyond the very substantial risks posed by the virus itself, practitioners tasked with attending to the large proportion of inmates with mental illness now face additional challenges.

Medscape Psychiatry editorial director Bret Stetka, MD, spoke with Elizabeth Ford, MD, former chief of psychiatry for NYC Health + Hospitals/Correctional Health Services and current chief medical officer for the Center for Alternative Sentencing and Employment Services (CASES), a community organization focused on the needs of people touched by the criminal justice system, to find out how COVID-19 may be reshaping the mental health care of incarcerated patients. As noted by Ford, who authored the 2017 memoir Sometimes Amazing Things Happen: Heartbreak and Hope on the Bellevue Hospital Psychiatric Prison Ward, the unique vulnerabilities of this population were evident well before the coronavirus pandemic’s arrival on our shores.
 

What are the unique health and mental health challenges that can arise in correctional facilities during crises like this, in particular, infectious crises? Or are we still learning this as COVID-19 spreads?

I think it’s important to say that they are still learning it, and I don’t want to speak for them. I left Correctional Health Services on Feb. 14, and we weren’t aware of [all the risks posed by COVID-19] at that point.

I worked in the jail proper for five and a half years. Prior to that I spent a decade at Bellevue Hospital, where I took care of the same patients, who were still incarcerated but also hospitalized. In those years, the closest I ever came to managing something like this was Superstorm Sandy, which obviously had much different health implications.

All of the things that the community is struggling with in terms of the virus also apply in jails and prisons: identifying people who are sick, keeping healthy people from getting sick, preventing sick people from getting worse, separating populations, treatment options, testing options, making sure people follow the appropriate hygiene recommendations. It’s just amplified immensely because these are closed systems that tend to be poorly sanitized, crowded, and frequently forgotten or minimized in public health and political conversations.

A really important distinction is that individuals who are incarcerated do not have control over their behavior in the way that they would in the outside world. They may want to wash their hands frequently and to stay six feet away from everybody, but they can’t because the environment doesn’t allow for that. I know that everyone – correctional officers, health staff, incarcerated individuals, the city – is trying to figure out how to do those things in the jail. The primary challenge is that you don’t have the ability to do the things that you know are right to prevent the spread of the infection.
 

I know you can’t speak to what’s going on at specific jails at the moment, but what sort of psychiatric measures would a jail system put forth in a time like this?

It’s a good question, because like everybody, they’re having to balance the safety of the staff and the patients. Mental health interventions are mostly in person and very time intensive, and social distancing guidelines don’t allow for that now.

I expect that the jails are trying to stratify patients based on severity, both physical and psychological, although increasingly it’s likely harder to separate those who are sick from those who aren’t. In areas where patients are sick, I think the mental health staff are likely doing as much intervention as they can safely, including remote work like telehealth. Telehealth actually got its start in prisons, because they couldn’t get enough providers to come in and do the work in person.
 

I’ve read a lot of the criticism around this, specifically at Rikers Island, where inmates are still closely seated at dining tables, with no possibility of social distancing. [Editor’s note: At the time of this writing, Rikers Island experienced its first inmate death due to COVID-19.] But I see the other side of it. What are jails supposed to do when limited to such a confined space?

That’s correct. I think it is hard for someone who has not lived or worked intensely in these settings to understand how difficult it can be to implement even the most basic hygiene precautions. There are all sorts of efforts happening to create more space, to reduce admissions coming into the jail, to try to expedite discharges out, to offer a lot more sanitation options. I think they may have opened up a jail that was empty to allow for more space.
 

In a recent Medscape commentary, Jeffrey Lieberman, MD, from Columbia University detailed how a crisis like this may affect those in different tiers of mental illness. Interestingly, there are data showing that those with serious mental illness – schizophrenia, severe mania – often aren’t panicked by disasters. I assume that a sizable percentage of the jail population has severe mental illness, so I was curious about what your experience is, about how they may handle it psychologically.

The rate of serious mental illness in jail is roughly 16% or so, which is three or four times higher than the general population.

Although I don’t know if these kinds of crises differentially affect people with serious mental illness, I do believe very strongly that situations like this, for those who are and who are not incarcerated, can exacerbate or cause symptoms like anxiety, depression, and elevated levels of fear – fear about the unknown, fear of illness or death, fear of isolation.

For people who are incarcerated and who understandably may struggle with trusting the system that is supposed to be keeping them safe, I am concerned that this kind of situation will make that lack of trust worse. I worry that when they get out of jail they will be less inclined to seek help. I imagine that the staff in the jails are doing as much as they can to support the patients, but the staff are also likely experiencing some version of the abandonment and frustration that the patients may feel.

I’ve also seen – not in a crisis of this magnitude but in other crisis situations – that a community really develops among everybody in incarcerated settings. A shared crisis forces everybody to work together in ways that they may not have before. That includes more tolerance for behaviors, more understanding of differences, including mental illness and developmental delay. More compassion.
 

Do you mean between prisoners and staff? Among everybody?

Everybody. In all of the different relationships you can imagine.
 

That speaks to the vulnerability and good nature in all of us. It’s encouraging.

It is, although it’s devastating to me that it happens because they collectively feel so neglected and forgotten. Shared trauma can bind people together very closely.
 

What psychiatric conditions did you typically see in New York City jails?

For the many people with serious mental illness, it’s generally schizophrenia-spectrum illnesses and bipolar disorder – really severe illnesses that do not do well in confinement settings. There’s a lot of anxiety and depression, some that rises to the level of serious illness. There is near universal substance use among the population.

There is also almost universal trauma exposure, whether early-childhood experiences or the ongoing trauma of incarceration. Not everyone has PTSD, but almost everyone behaves in a traumatized way. As you know, in the United States, incarceration is very racially and socioeconomically biased; the trauma of poverty can be incredibly harsh.

What I didn’t see were lots of people with antisocial personality disorder or diagnoses of malingering. That may surprise people. There’s an idea that everybody in jail is a liar and lacks empathy. I didn’t experience that. People in jail are doing whatever they can to survive.
 

What treatments are offered to these patients?

In New York City, all of the typical treatments that you would imagine for people with serious mental illness are offered in the jails: individual and group psychotherapy, medication management, substance use treatment, social work services, even creative art therapy. Many other jails are not able to do even a fraction of that.

In many jails there also has to be a lot of supportive therapy. This involves trying to help people get through a very anxiety-provoking and difficult time, when they frequently don’t know when they are going to be able to leave. I felt the same way as many of the correction officers – that the best thing for these patients is to be out of the jail, to be out of that toxic environment.
 

We have heard for years that the jail system and prison system is the new psych ward. Can you speak to how this occurred and the influence of deinstitutionalization?

When deinstitutionalization happened, there were not enough community agencies available that were equipped to take care of patients who were previously in hospitals. But I think a larger contributor to the overpopulation of people with mental illness in jails and prisons was the war on drugs. It disproportionately affected people who were poor, of color, and who had mental illness. Mental illness and substance use frequently occur together.

At the same time as deinstitutionalization and the war on drugs, there was also a tightening up of the laws relating to admission to psychiatric hospitals. The civil rights movement helped define the requirements that someone had to be dangerous and mentally ill in order to get admitted against their will. While this was an important protection against more indiscriminate admissions of the past, it made it harder to get into hospitals; the state hospitals were closed but the hospitals that were open were now harder to get into.
 

You mentioned that prisoners are undergoing trauma every day. Is this inherent to punitive confinement, or is it something that can be improved upon in the United States?

It’s important that you said “in the United States” as part of that question. Our approach to incarceration in the U.S. is heavily punishment based.
 

Compared to somewhere like Scandinavia, where inmates and prisoners are given a lot more support?

Or England or Canada. The challenge with comparing the United States to Scandinavia is that we are socioeconomically, demographically, and politically so different. But yes, my understanding about the Scandinavian systems are that they have a much more rehabilitative approach to incarceration. Until the U.S. can reframe the goals of incarceration to focus on helping individuals behave in a socially acceptable way, rather than destroy their sense of self-worth, we will continue to see the impact of trauma on generations of lives.

Now, that doesn’t mean that every jail and prison in this country is abusive. But taking away autonomy and freedom, applying inconsistent rules, using solitary confinement, and getting limited to no access to people you love all really destroy a person’s ability to behave in a way that society has deemed acceptable.
 

Assuming that mental health professionals such as yourself have a more compassionate understanding of what’s going on psychologically with the inmates, are you often at odds with law enforcement in the philosophy behind incarceration?

That’s an interesting question. When I moved from the hospital to the jail, I thought that I would run into a lot of resistance from the correction officer staff. I just thought, we’re coming at this from a totally different perspective: I’m trying to help these people and see if there’s a way to safely get them out, and you guys want to punish them.

It turns out that I was very misguided in that view, because it seemed to me that everybody wanted to do what was right for the patient. My perspective about what’s right involved respectful care, building self-esteem, treating illness. The correction officer’s perspective seemed to be keeping them safe, making sure that they can get through the system as quickly as possible, not having them get into fights. Our perspectives may have been different, but the goals were the same. I want all that stuff that the officers want as well.

It’s important to remember that the people who work inside jails and prisons are usually not the ones who are making the policies about who goes in. I haven’t had a lot of exposure working directly with many policymakers. I imagine that my opinions might differ from theirs in some regards.
 

For those working in the U.S. psychiatric healthcare system, what do you want them to know about mental health care in the correctional setting?

Patients in correctional settings are mostly the same patients seen in the public mental health system setting. The vast majority of people who spend time in jail or prison return to the community. But there’s a difference in how patients are perceived by many mental health professionals, including psychiatrists, depending on whether they have criminal justice experience or not.

I would encourage everybody to try to keep an open mind and remember that these patients are cycling through a very difficult system, for many reasons that are at least rooted in community trauma and poverty, and that it doesn’t change the nature of who they are. It doesn’t change that they’re still human beings and they still deserve care and support and treatment.

In this country, patients with mental illness and incarceration histories are so vulnerable and are often black, brown, and poor. It’s an incredible and disturbing representation of American society. But I feel like you can help a lot by getting involved in the frequently dysfunctional criminal justice system. Psychiatrists and other providers have an opportunity to fix things from the inside out.
 

What’s your new role at CASES?

I’m the chief medical officer at CASES [Center for Alternative Sentencing and Employment Services]. It’s a large community organization that provides mental health treatment, case management, employment and education services, alternatives to incarceration, and general support for people who have experienced criminal justice involvement. CASES began operating in the 1960s, and around 2000 it began developing programs specifically addressing the connection between serious mental illness and criminal justice system involvement. For example, we take care of the patients who are coming out of the jails or prisons, or managing patients that the courts have said should go to treatment instead of incarceration.

I took the job because as conditions for individuals with serious mental illness started to improve in the jails, I started to hear more frequently from patients that they were getting better treatment in the jail than out in the community. That did not sit well with me and seemed to be almost the opposite of how it should be.

I also have never been an outpatient public psychiatrist. Most of the patients I treat live most of their lives outside of a jail or a hospital. It felt really important for me to understand the lives of these patients and to see if all of the resistance that I’ve heard from community psychiatrists about taking care of people who have been in jail is really true or not.

It was a logical transition for me. I’m following the patients and basically deinstitutionalizing [them] myself.

This article was first published on Medscape.com.

Jails provide ideal conditions for the spread of COVID-19, as made clear by the distressing stories coming out of New York City. Beyond the very substantial risks posed by the virus itself, practitioners tasked with attending to the large proportion of inmates with mental illness now face additional challenges.

Medscape Psychiatry editorial director Bret Stetka, MD, spoke with Elizabeth Ford, MD, former chief of psychiatry for NYC Health + Hospitals/Correctional Health Services and current chief medical officer for the Center for Alternative Sentencing and Employment Services (CASES), a community organization focused on the needs of people touched by the criminal justice system, to find out how COVID-19 may be reshaping the mental health care of incarcerated patients. As noted by Ford, who authored the 2017 memoir Sometimes Amazing Things Happen: Heartbreak and Hope on the Bellevue Hospital Psychiatric Prison Ward, the unique vulnerabilities of this population were evident well before the coronavirus pandemic’s arrival on our shores.
 

What are the unique health and mental health challenges that can arise in correctional facilities during crises like this, in particular, infectious crises? Or are we still learning this as COVID-19 spreads?

I think it’s important to say that they are still learning it, and I don’t want to speak for them. I left Correctional Health Services on Feb. 14, and we weren’t aware of [all the risks posed by COVID-19] at that point.

I worked in the jail proper for five and a half years. Prior to that I spent a decade at Bellevue Hospital, where I took care of the same patients, who were still incarcerated but also hospitalized. In those years, the closest I ever came to managing something like this was Superstorm Sandy, which obviously had much different health implications.

All of the things that the community is struggling with in terms of the virus also apply in jails and prisons: identifying people who are sick, keeping healthy people from getting sick, preventing sick people from getting worse, separating populations, treatment options, testing options, making sure people follow the appropriate hygiene recommendations. It’s just amplified immensely because these are closed systems that tend to be poorly sanitized, crowded, and frequently forgotten or minimized in public health and political conversations.

A really important distinction is that individuals who are incarcerated do not have control over their behavior in the way that they would in the outside world. They may want to wash their hands frequently and to stay six feet away from everybody, but they can’t because the environment doesn’t allow for that. I know that everyone – correctional officers, health staff, incarcerated individuals, the city – is trying to figure out how to do those things in the jail. The primary challenge is that you don’t have the ability to do the things that you know are right to prevent the spread of the infection.
 

I know you can’t speak to what’s going on at specific jails at the moment, but what sort of psychiatric measures would a jail system put forth in a time like this?

It’s a good question, because like everybody, they’re having to balance the safety of the staff and the patients. Mental health interventions are mostly in person and very time intensive, and social distancing guidelines don’t allow for that now.

I expect that the jails are trying to stratify patients based on severity, both physical and psychological, although increasingly it’s likely harder to separate those who are sick from those who aren’t. In areas where patients are sick, I think the mental health staff are likely doing as much intervention as they can safely, including remote work like telehealth. Telehealth actually got its start in prisons, because they couldn’t get enough providers to come in and do the work in person.
 

I’ve read a lot of the criticism around this, specifically at Rikers Island, where inmates are still closely seated at dining tables, with no possibility of social distancing. [Editor’s note: At the time of this writing, Rikers Island experienced its first inmate death due to COVID-19.] But I see the other side of it. What are jails supposed to do when limited to such a confined space?

That’s correct. I think it is hard for someone who has not lived or worked intensely in these settings to understand how difficult it can be to implement even the most basic hygiene precautions. There are all sorts of efforts happening to create more space, to reduce admissions coming into the jail, to try to expedite discharges out, to offer a lot more sanitation options. I think they may have opened up a jail that was empty to allow for more space.
 

In a recent Medscape commentary, Jeffrey Lieberman, MD, from Columbia University detailed how a crisis like this may affect those in different tiers of mental illness. Interestingly, there are data showing that those with serious mental illness – schizophrenia, severe mania – often aren’t panicked by disasters. I assume that a sizable percentage of the jail population has severe mental illness, so I was curious about what your experience is, about how they may handle it psychologically.

The rate of serious mental illness in jail is roughly 16% or so, which is three or four times higher than the general population.

Although I don’t know if these kinds of crises differentially affect people with serious mental illness, I do believe very strongly that situations like this, for those who are and who are not incarcerated, can exacerbate or cause symptoms like anxiety, depression, and elevated levels of fear – fear about the unknown, fear of illness or death, fear of isolation.

For people who are incarcerated and who understandably may struggle with trusting the system that is supposed to be keeping them safe, I am concerned that this kind of situation will make that lack of trust worse. I worry that when they get out of jail they will be less inclined to seek help. I imagine that the staff in the jails are doing as much as they can to support the patients, but the staff are also likely experiencing some version of the abandonment and frustration that the patients may feel.

I’ve also seen – not in a crisis of this magnitude but in other crisis situations – that a community really develops among everybody in incarcerated settings. A shared crisis forces everybody to work together in ways that they may not have before. That includes more tolerance for behaviors, more understanding of differences, including mental illness and developmental delay. More compassion.
 

Do you mean between prisoners and staff? Among everybody?

Everybody. In all of the different relationships you can imagine.
 

That speaks to the vulnerability and good nature in all of us. It’s encouraging.

It is, although it’s devastating to me that it happens because they collectively feel so neglected and forgotten. Shared trauma can bind people together very closely.
 

What psychiatric conditions did you typically see in New York City jails?

For the many people with serious mental illness, it’s generally schizophrenia-spectrum illnesses and bipolar disorder – really severe illnesses that do not do well in confinement settings. There’s a lot of anxiety and depression, some that rises to the level of serious illness. There is near universal substance use among the population.

There is also almost universal trauma exposure, whether early-childhood experiences or the ongoing trauma of incarceration. Not everyone has PTSD, but almost everyone behaves in a traumatized way. As you know, in the United States, incarceration is very racially and socioeconomically biased; the trauma of poverty can be incredibly harsh.

What I didn’t see were lots of people with antisocial personality disorder or diagnoses of malingering. That may surprise people. There’s an idea that everybody in jail is a liar and lacks empathy. I didn’t experience that. People in jail are doing whatever they can to survive.
 

What treatments are offered to these patients?

In New York City, all of the typical treatments that you would imagine for people with serious mental illness are offered in the jails: individual and group psychotherapy, medication management, substance use treatment, social work services, even creative art therapy. Many other jails are not able to do even a fraction of that.

In many jails there also has to be a lot of supportive therapy. This involves trying to help people get through a very anxiety-provoking and difficult time, when they frequently don’t know when they are going to be able to leave. I felt the same way as many of the correction officers – that the best thing for these patients is to be out of the jail, to be out of that toxic environment.
 

We have heard for years that the jail system and prison system is the new psych ward. Can you speak to how this occurred and the influence of deinstitutionalization?

When deinstitutionalization happened, there were not enough community agencies available that were equipped to take care of patients who were previously in hospitals. But I think a larger contributor to the overpopulation of people with mental illness in jails and prisons was the war on drugs. It disproportionately affected people who were poor, of color, and who had mental illness. Mental illness and substance use frequently occur together.

At the same time as deinstitutionalization and the war on drugs, there was also a tightening up of the laws relating to admission to psychiatric hospitals. The civil rights movement helped define the requirements that someone had to be dangerous and mentally ill in order to get admitted against their will. While this was an important protection against more indiscriminate admissions of the past, it made it harder to get into hospitals; the state hospitals were closed but the hospitals that were open were now harder to get into.
 

You mentioned that prisoners are undergoing trauma every day. Is this inherent to punitive confinement, or is it something that can be improved upon in the United States?

It’s important that you said “in the United States” as part of that question. Our approach to incarceration in the U.S. is heavily punishment based.
 

Compared to somewhere like Scandinavia, where inmates and prisoners are given a lot more support?

Or England or Canada. The challenge with comparing the United States to Scandinavia is that we are socioeconomically, demographically, and politically so different. But yes, my understanding about the Scandinavian systems are that they have a much more rehabilitative approach to incarceration. Until the U.S. can reframe the goals of incarceration to focus on helping individuals behave in a socially acceptable way, rather than destroy their sense of self-worth, we will continue to see the impact of trauma on generations of lives.

Now, that doesn’t mean that every jail and prison in this country is abusive. But taking away autonomy and freedom, applying inconsistent rules, using solitary confinement, and getting limited to no access to people you love all really destroy a person’s ability to behave in a way that society has deemed acceptable.
 

Assuming that mental health professionals such as yourself have a more compassionate understanding of what’s going on psychologically with the inmates, are you often at odds with law enforcement in the philosophy behind incarceration?

That’s an interesting question. When I moved from the hospital to the jail, I thought that I would run into a lot of resistance from the correction officer staff. I just thought, we’re coming at this from a totally different perspective: I’m trying to help these people and see if there’s a way to safely get them out, and you guys want to punish them.

It turns out that I was very misguided in that view, because it seemed to me that everybody wanted to do what was right for the patient. My perspective about what’s right involved respectful care, building self-esteem, treating illness. The correction officer’s perspective seemed to be keeping them safe, making sure that they can get through the system as quickly as possible, not having them get into fights. Our perspectives may have been different, but the goals were the same. I want all that stuff that the officers want as well.

It’s important to remember that the people who work inside jails and prisons are usually not the ones who are making the policies about who goes in. I haven’t had a lot of exposure working directly with many policymakers. I imagine that my opinions might differ from theirs in some regards.
 

For those working in the U.S. psychiatric healthcare system, what do you want them to know about mental health care in the correctional setting?

Patients in correctional settings are mostly the same patients seen in the public mental health system setting. The vast majority of people who spend time in jail or prison return to the community. But there’s a difference in how patients are perceived by many mental health professionals, including psychiatrists, depending on whether they have criminal justice experience or not.

I would encourage everybody to try to keep an open mind and remember that these patients are cycling through a very difficult system, for many reasons that are at least rooted in community trauma and poverty, and that it doesn’t change the nature of who they are. It doesn’t change that they’re still human beings and they still deserve care and support and treatment.

In this country, patients with mental illness and incarceration histories are so vulnerable and are often black, brown, and poor. It’s an incredible and disturbing representation of American society. But I feel like you can help a lot by getting involved in the frequently dysfunctional criminal justice system. Psychiatrists and other providers have an opportunity to fix things from the inside out.
 

What’s your new role at CASES?

I’m the chief medical officer at CASES [Center for Alternative Sentencing and Employment Services]. It’s a large community organization that provides mental health treatment, case management, employment and education services, alternatives to incarceration, and general support for people who have experienced criminal justice involvement. CASES began operating in the 1960s, and around 2000 it began developing programs specifically addressing the connection between serious mental illness and criminal justice system involvement. For example, we take care of the patients who are coming out of the jails or prisons, or managing patients that the courts have said should go to treatment instead of incarceration.

I took the job because as conditions for individuals with serious mental illness started to improve in the jails, I started to hear more frequently from patients that they were getting better treatment in the jail than out in the community. That did not sit well with me and seemed to be almost the opposite of how it should be.

I also have never been an outpatient public psychiatrist. Most of the patients I treat live most of their lives outside of a jail or a hospital. It felt really important for me to understand the lives of these patients and to see if all of the resistance that I’ve heard from community psychiatrists about taking care of people who have been in jail is really true or not.

It was a logical transition for me. I’m following the patients and basically deinstitutionalizing [them] myself.

This article was first published on Medscape.com.

Jails provide ideal conditions for the spread of COVID-19, as made clear by the distressing stories coming out of New York City. Beyond the very substantial risks posed by the virus itself, practitioners tasked with attending to the large proportion of inmates with mental illness now face additional challenges.

Medscape Psychiatry editorial director Bret Stetka, MD, spoke with Elizabeth Ford, MD, former chief of psychiatry for NYC Health + Hospitals/Correctional Health Services and current chief medical officer for the Center for Alternative Sentencing and Employment Services (CASES), a community organization focused on the needs of people touched by the criminal justice system, to find out how COVID-19 may be reshaping the mental health care of incarcerated patients. As noted by Ford, who authored the 2017 memoir Sometimes Amazing Things Happen: Heartbreak and Hope on the Bellevue Hospital Psychiatric Prison Ward, the unique vulnerabilities of this population were evident well before the coronavirus pandemic’s arrival on our shores.
 

What are the unique health and mental health challenges that can arise in correctional facilities during crises like this, in particular, infectious crises? Or are we still learning this as COVID-19 spreads?

I think it’s important to say that they are still learning it, and I don’t want to speak for them. I left Correctional Health Services on Feb. 14, and we weren’t aware of [all the risks posed by COVID-19] at that point.

I worked in the jail proper for five and a half years. Prior to that I spent a decade at Bellevue Hospital, where I took care of the same patients, who were still incarcerated but also hospitalized. In those years, the closest I ever came to managing something like this was Superstorm Sandy, which obviously had much different health implications.

All of the things that the community is struggling with in terms of the virus also apply in jails and prisons: identifying people who are sick, keeping healthy people from getting sick, preventing sick people from getting worse, separating populations, treatment options, testing options, making sure people follow the appropriate hygiene recommendations. It’s just amplified immensely because these are closed systems that tend to be poorly sanitized, crowded, and frequently forgotten or minimized in public health and political conversations.

A really important distinction is that individuals who are incarcerated do not have control over their behavior in the way that they would in the outside world. They may want to wash their hands frequently and to stay six feet away from everybody, but they can’t because the environment doesn’t allow for that. I know that everyone – correctional officers, health staff, incarcerated individuals, the city – is trying to figure out how to do those things in the jail. The primary challenge is that you don’t have the ability to do the things that you know are right to prevent the spread of the infection.
 

I know you can’t speak to what’s going on at specific jails at the moment, but what sort of psychiatric measures would a jail system put forth in a time like this?

It’s a good question, because like everybody, they’re having to balance the safety of the staff and the patients. Mental health interventions are mostly in person and very time intensive, and social distancing guidelines don’t allow for that now.

I expect that the jails are trying to stratify patients based on severity, both physical and psychological, although increasingly it’s likely harder to separate those who are sick from those who aren’t. In areas where patients are sick, I think the mental health staff are likely doing as much intervention as they can safely, including remote work like telehealth. Telehealth actually got its start in prisons, because they couldn’t get enough providers to come in and do the work in person.
 

I’ve read a lot of the criticism around this, specifically at Rikers Island, where inmates are still closely seated at dining tables, with no possibility of social distancing. [Editor’s note: At the time of this writing, Rikers Island experienced its first inmate death due to COVID-19.] But I see the other side of it. What are jails supposed to do when limited to such a confined space?

That’s correct. I think it is hard for someone who has not lived or worked intensely in these settings to understand how difficult it can be to implement even the most basic hygiene precautions. There are all sorts of efforts happening to create more space, to reduce admissions coming into the jail, to try to expedite discharges out, to offer a lot more sanitation options. I think they may have opened up a jail that was empty to allow for more space.
 

In a recent Medscape commentary, Jeffrey Lieberman, MD, from Columbia University detailed how a crisis like this may affect those in different tiers of mental illness. Interestingly, there are data showing that those with serious mental illness – schizophrenia, severe mania – often aren’t panicked by disasters. I assume that a sizable percentage of the jail population has severe mental illness, so I was curious about what your experience is, about how they may handle it psychologically.

The rate of serious mental illness in jail is roughly 16% or so, which is three or four times higher than the general population.

Although I don’t know if these kinds of crises differentially affect people with serious mental illness, I do believe very strongly that situations like this, for those who are and who are not incarcerated, can exacerbate or cause symptoms like anxiety, depression, and elevated levels of fear – fear about the unknown, fear of illness or death, fear of isolation.

For people who are incarcerated and who understandably may struggle with trusting the system that is supposed to be keeping them safe, I am concerned that this kind of situation will make that lack of trust worse. I worry that when they get out of jail they will be less inclined to seek help. I imagine that the staff in the jails are doing as much as they can to support the patients, but the staff are also likely experiencing some version of the abandonment and frustration that the patients may feel.

I’ve also seen – not in a crisis of this magnitude but in other crisis situations – that a community really develops among everybody in incarcerated settings. A shared crisis forces everybody to work together in ways that they may not have before. That includes more tolerance for behaviors, more understanding of differences, including mental illness and developmental delay. More compassion.
 

Do you mean between prisoners and staff? Among everybody?

Everybody. In all of the different relationships you can imagine.
 

That speaks to the vulnerability and good nature in all of us. It’s encouraging.

It is, although it’s devastating to me that it happens because they collectively feel so neglected and forgotten. Shared trauma can bind people together very closely.
 

What psychiatric conditions did you typically see in New York City jails?

For the many people with serious mental illness, it’s generally schizophrenia-spectrum illnesses and bipolar disorder – really severe illnesses that do not do well in confinement settings. There’s a lot of anxiety and depression, some that rises to the level of serious illness. There is near universal substance use among the population.

There is also almost universal trauma exposure, whether early-childhood experiences or the ongoing trauma of incarceration. Not everyone has PTSD, but almost everyone behaves in a traumatized way. As you know, in the United States, incarceration is very racially and socioeconomically biased; the trauma of poverty can be incredibly harsh.

What I didn’t see were lots of people with antisocial personality disorder or diagnoses of malingering. That may surprise people. There’s an idea that everybody in jail is a liar and lacks empathy. I didn’t experience that. People in jail are doing whatever they can to survive.
 

What treatments are offered to these patients?

In New York City, all of the typical treatments that you would imagine for people with serious mental illness are offered in the jails: individual and group psychotherapy, medication management, substance use treatment, social work services, even creative art therapy. Many other jails are not able to do even a fraction of that.

In many jails there also has to be a lot of supportive therapy. This involves trying to help people get through a very anxiety-provoking and difficult time, when they frequently don’t know when they are going to be able to leave. I felt the same way as many of the correction officers – that the best thing for these patients is to be out of the jail, to be out of that toxic environment.
 

We have heard for years that the jail system and prison system is the new psych ward. Can you speak to how this occurred and the influence of deinstitutionalization?

When deinstitutionalization happened, there were not enough community agencies available that were equipped to take care of patients who were previously in hospitals. But I think a larger contributor to the overpopulation of people with mental illness in jails and prisons was the war on drugs. It disproportionately affected people who were poor, of color, and who had mental illness. Mental illness and substance use frequently occur together.

At the same time as deinstitutionalization and the war on drugs, there was also a tightening up of the laws relating to admission to psychiatric hospitals. The civil rights movement helped define the requirements that someone had to be dangerous and mentally ill in order to get admitted against their will. While this was an important protection against more indiscriminate admissions of the past, it made it harder to get into hospitals; the state hospitals were closed but the hospitals that were open were now harder to get into.
 

You mentioned that prisoners are undergoing trauma every day. Is this inherent to punitive confinement, or is it something that can be improved upon in the United States?

It’s important that you said “in the United States” as part of that question. Our approach to incarceration in the U.S. is heavily punishment based.
 

Compared to somewhere like Scandinavia, where inmates and prisoners are given a lot more support?

Or England or Canada. The challenge with comparing the United States to Scandinavia is that we are socioeconomically, demographically, and politically so different. But yes, my understanding about the Scandinavian systems are that they have a much more rehabilitative approach to incarceration. Until the U.S. can reframe the goals of incarceration to focus on helping individuals behave in a socially acceptable way, rather than destroy their sense of self-worth, we will continue to see the impact of trauma on generations of lives.

Now, that doesn’t mean that every jail and prison in this country is abusive. But taking away autonomy and freedom, applying inconsistent rules, using solitary confinement, and getting limited to no access to people you love all really destroy a person’s ability to behave in a way that society has deemed acceptable.
 

Assuming that mental health professionals such as yourself have a more compassionate understanding of what’s going on psychologically with the inmates, are you often at odds with law enforcement in the philosophy behind incarceration?

That’s an interesting question. When I moved from the hospital to the jail, I thought that I would run into a lot of resistance from the correction officer staff. I just thought, we’re coming at this from a totally different perspective: I’m trying to help these people and see if there’s a way to safely get them out, and you guys want to punish them.

It turns out that I was very misguided in that view, because it seemed to me that everybody wanted to do what was right for the patient. My perspective about what’s right involved respectful care, building self-esteem, treating illness. The correction officer’s perspective seemed to be keeping them safe, making sure that they can get through the system as quickly as possible, not having them get into fights. Our perspectives may have been different, but the goals were the same. I want all that stuff that the officers want as well.

It’s important to remember that the people who work inside jails and prisons are usually not the ones who are making the policies about who goes in. I haven’t had a lot of exposure working directly with many policymakers. I imagine that my opinions might differ from theirs in some regards.
 

For those working in the U.S. psychiatric healthcare system, what do you want them to know about mental health care in the correctional setting?

Patients in correctional settings are mostly the same patients seen in the public mental health system setting. The vast majority of people who spend time in jail or prison return to the community. But there’s a difference in how patients are perceived by many mental health professionals, including psychiatrists, depending on whether they have criminal justice experience or not.

I would encourage everybody to try to keep an open mind and remember that these patients are cycling through a very difficult system, for many reasons that are at least rooted in community trauma and poverty, and that it doesn’t change the nature of who they are. It doesn’t change that they’re still human beings and they still deserve care and support and treatment.

In this country, patients with mental illness and incarceration histories are so vulnerable and are often black, brown, and poor. It’s an incredible and disturbing representation of American society. But I feel like you can help a lot by getting involved in the frequently dysfunctional criminal justice system. Psychiatrists and other providers have an opportunity to fix things from the inside out.
 

What’s your new role at CASES?

I’m the chief medical officer at CASES [Center for Alternative Sentencing and Employment Services]. It’s a large community organization that provides mental health treatment, case management, employment and education services, alternatives to incarceration, and general support for people who have experienced criminal justice involvement. CASES began operating in the 1960s, and around 2000 it began developing programs specifically addressing the connection between serious mental illness and criminal justice system involvement. For example, we take care of the patients who are coming out of the jails or prisons, or managing patients that the courts have said should go to treatment instead of incarceration.

I took the job because as conditions for individuals with serious mental illness started to improve in the jails, I started to hear more frequently from patients that they were getting better treatment in the jail than out in the community. That did not sit well with me and seemed to be almost the opposite of how it should be.

I also have never been an outpatient public psychiatrist. Most of the patients I treat live most of their lives outside of a jail or a hospital. It felt really important for me to understand the lives of these patients and to see if all of the resistance that I’ve heard from community psychiatrists about taking care of people who have been in jail is really true or not.

It was a logical transition for me. I’m following the patients and basically deinstitutionalizing [them] myself.

This article was first published on Medscape.com.