Clinical Psychiatry News

Taking up gardening is linked to improved mood and decreased stress, new research suggests.

The results of the small pilot study add to the growing body of evidence supporting the therapeutic value of gardening, study investigator Charles Guy, PhD, professor emeritus, University of Florida Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Gainesville, told this news organization.

“If we can see therapeutic benefits among healthy individuals in a rigorously designed study, where variability was as controlled as you will see in this field, then now is the time to invest in some large-scale multi-institutional studies,” Dr. Guy added.

The study was published online in PLOS ONE.
 

Horticulture as therapy

Horticulture therapy involves engaging in gardening and plant-based activities facilitated by a trained therapist. Previous studies found that this intervention reduces apathy and improves cognitive function in some populations.

The current study included healthy, nonsmoking, and non–drug-using women, whose average age was about 32.5 years and whose body mass index was less than 32. The participants had no chronic conditions and were not allergic to pollen or plants.

Virtually all previous studies of therapeutic gardening included participants who had been diagnosed with conditions such as depression, chronic pain, or PTSD. “If we can see a therapeutic benefit with perfectly healthy people, then this is likely to have a therapeutic effect with whatever clinical population you might be interested in looking at,” said Dr. Guy.

In addition, including only women reduced variability, which is important in a small study, he said.

The researchers randomly assigned 20 participants to the gardening intervention and 20 to an art intervention. Each intervention consisted of twice-weekly 60-minute sessions for 4 weeks and a single follow-up session.

The art group was asked not to visit art galleries, museums, arts and crafts events, or art-related websites. Those in the gardening group were told not to visit parks or botanical gardens, not to engage in gardening activities, and not to visit gardening websites.

Activities in both groups involved a similar level of physical, cognitive, and social engagement. Gardeners were taught how to plant seeds and transplant and harvest edible crops, such as tomatoes, beans, and basil. Those in the art group learned papermaking and storytelling through drawing, printmaking, and mixed media collage.

At the beginning and end of the study, participants completed six questionnaires: the Profile of Mood States 2-A (POMS) short form, the Perceived Stress Scale (PSS), the Beck Depression Inventory II (BDI-II), the State-Trait Anxiety Inventory for Adults, the Satisfaction With Participation in Discretionary Social Activities, and the 36-item Short-Form Survey.

Participants wore wrist cuff blood pressure and heart rate monitors.

The analysis included 15 persons in the gardening group and 17 in the art group.

Participants in both interventions improved on several scales. For example, the mean preintervention POMS TMD (T score) for gardeners was 53.1, which was reduced to a mean of 46.9 post intervention (P = .018). In the art group, the means score was 53.5 before the intervention and 47.0 after the intervention (P = .009).

For the PSS, mean scores went from 14.9 to 9.4 (P = .002) for gardening and from 15.8 to 10.0 (P = .001) for artmaking.

For the BDI-II, mean scores dropped from 8.2 to 2.8 (P = .001) for gardening and from 9.0 to 5.1 (P = .009) for art.

However, gardening was associated with less trait anxiety than artmaking. “We concluded that both interventions were roughly equally therapeutic, with one glaring exception, and that was with trait anxiety, where the gardening resulted in statistical separation from the art group,” said Dr. Guy.

There appeared to be dose responses for total mood disturbance, perceived stress, and depression symptomatology for both gardening and artmaking.

Neither intervention affected heart rate or blood pressure. A larger sample might be needed to detect treatment differences in healthy women, the investigators noted.

The therapeutic benefit of gardening may lie in the role of plants in human evolution, during which “we relied on plants for shelter; we relied on them for protection; we relied on them obviously for nutrition,” said Dr. Guy.

The study results support carrying out large, well-designed, rigorously designed trials “that will definitively and conclusively demonstrate treatment effects with quantitative descriptions of those treatment effects with respect to dosage,” he said.
 

Good for the mind

Commenting on the study, Sir Richard Thompson, MD, past president, Royal College of Physicians, London, who has written about the health benefits of gardening, said this new study provides “more evidence that both gardening and art therapy are good for the mind” with mostly equal benefits for the two interventions.

Anuradha Dullewe Wijeyeratne

“A much larger study would be needed to strengthen their case, but it fits in with much of the literature,” said Dr. Thompson.

However, he acknowledged the difficulty of carrying out scientifically robust studies in the field of alternative medicine, which “tends to be frowned upon” by some scientists.

Dr. Thompson identified some drawbacks of the study. In trying to measure so many parameters, the authors “may have had to resort to complex statistical analyses,” which may have led to some outcome changes being statistically positive by chance.

He noted that the study was small and that the gardening arm was “artificial” in that it was carried out in a greenhouse. “Maybe being outside would have been more beneficial; it would be interesting to test that hypothesis.”

As well, he pointed out initial differences between the two groups, including income and initial blood pressure, but he doubts these were significant.

He agreed that changes in cardiovascular parameters wouldn’t be expected in healthy young women, “as there’s little room for improvement.

“I wonder whether more improvement might have been seen in participants who were already suffering from anxiety, depression, etc.”

The study was supported by the Horticulture Research Institute, the Gene and Barbara Batson Endowed Nursery Fund, Florida Nursery Growers and Landscape Association, the Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Wilmot Botanical Gardens, the Center for Arts in Medicine, Health Shands Arts in Medicine, and the department of environmental horticulture at the University of Florida. The authors disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Taking up gardening is linked to improved mood and decreased stress, new research suggests.

The results of the small pilot study add to the growing body of evidence supporting the therapeutic value of gardening, study investigator Charles Guy, PhD, professor emeritus, University of Florida Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Gainesville, told this news organization.

“If we can see therapeutic benefits among healthy individuals in a rigorously designed study, where variability was as controlled as you will see in this field, then now is the time to invest in some large-scale multi-institutional studies,” Dr. Guy added.

The study was published online in PLOS ONE.
 

Horticulture as therapy

Horticulture therapy involves engaging in gardening and plant-based activities facilitated by a trained therapist. Previous studies found that this intervention reduces apathy and improves cognitive function in some populations.

The current study included healthy, nonsmoking, and non–drug-using women, whose average age was about 32.5 years and whose body mass index was less than 32. The participants had no chronic conditions and were not allergic to pollen or plants.

Virtually all previous studies of therapeutic gardening included participants who had been diagnosed with conditions such as depression, chronic pain, or PTSD. “If we can see a therapeutic benefit with perfectly healthy people, then this is likely to have a therapeutic effect with whatever clinical population you might be interested in looking at,” said Dr. Guy.

In addition, including only women reduced variability, which is important in a small study, he said.

The researchers randomly assigned 20 participants to the gardening intervention and 20 to an art intervention. Each intervention consisted of twice-weekly 60-minute sessions for 4 weeks and a single follow-up session.

The art group was asked not to visit art galleries, museums, arts and crafts events, or art-related websites. Those in the gardening group were told not to visit parks or botanical gardens, not to engage in gardening activities, and not to visit gardening websites.

Activities in both groups involved a similar level of physical, cognitive, and social engagement. Gardeners were taught how to plant seeds and transplant and harvest edible crops, such as tomatoes, beans, and basil. Those in the art group learned papermaking and storytelling through drawing, printmaking, and mixed media collage.

At the beginning and end of the study, participants completed six questionnaires: the Profile of Mood States 2-A (POMS) short form, the Perceived Stress Scale (PSS), the Beck Depression Inventory II (BDI-II), the State-Trait Anxiety Inventory for Adults, the Satisfaction With Participation in Discretionary Social Activities, and the 36-item Short-Form Survey.

Participants wore wrist cuff blood pressure and heart rate monitors.

The analysis included 15 persons in the gardening group and 17 in the art group.

Participants in both interventions improved on several scales. For example, the mean preintervention POMS TMD (T score) for gardeners was 53.1, which was reduced to a mean of 46.9 post intervention (P = .018). In the art group, the means score was 53.5 before the intervention and 47.0 after the intervention (P = .009).

For the PSS, mean scores went from 14.9 to 9.4 (P = .002) for gardening and from 15.8 to 10.0 (P = .001) for artmaking.

For the BDI-II, mean scores dropped from 8.2 to 2.8 (P = .001) for gardening and from 9.0 to 5.1 (P = .009) for art.

However, gardening was associated with less trait anxiety than artmaking. “We concluded that both interventions were roughly equally therapeutic, with one glaring exception, and that was with trait anxiety, where the gardening resulted in statistical separation from the art group,” said Dr. Guy.

There appeared to be dose responses for total mood disturbance, perceived stress, and depression symptomatology for both gardening and artmaking.

Neither intervention affected heart rate or blood pressure. A larger sample might be needed to detect treatment differences in healthy women, the investigators noted.

The therapeutic benefit of gardening may lie in the role of plants in human evolution, during which “we relied on plants for shelter; we relied on them for protection; we relied on them obviously for nutrition,” said Dr. Guy.

The study results support carrying out large, well-designed, rigorously designed trials “that will definitively and conclusively demonstrate treatment effects with quantitative descriptions of those treatment effects with respect to dosage,” he said.
 

Good for the mind

Commenting on the study, Sir Richard Thompson, MD, past president, Royal College of Physicians, London, who has written about the health benefits of gardening, said this new study provides “more evidence that both gardening and art therapy are good for the mind” with mostly equal benefits for the two interventions.

Anuradha Dullewe Wijeyeratne

“A much larger study would be needed to strengthen their case, but it fits in with much of the literature,” said Dr. Thompson.

However, he acknowledged the difficulty of carrying out scientifically robust studies in the field of alternative medicine, which “tends to be frowned upon” by some scientists.

Dr. Thompson identified some drawbacks of the study. In trying to measure so many parameters, the authors “may have had to resort to complex statistical analyses,” which may have led to some outcome changes being statistically positive by chance.

He noted that the study was small and that the gardening arm was “artificial” in that it was carried out in a greenhouse. “Maybe being outside would have been more beneficial; it would be interesting to test that hypothesis.”

As well, he pointed out initial differences between the two groups, including income and initial blood pressure, but he doubts these were significant.

He agreed that changes in cardiovascular parameters wouldn’t be expected in healthy young women, “as there’s little room for improvement.

“I wonder whether more improvement might have been seen in participants who were already suffering from anxiety, depression, etc.”

The study was supported by the Horticulture Research Institute, the Gene and Barbara Batson Endowed Nursery Fund, Florida Nursery Growers and Landscape Association, the Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Wilmot Botanical Gardens, the Center for Arts in Medicine, Health Shands Arts in Medicine, and the department of environmental horticulture at the University of Florida. The authors disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Taking up gardening is linked to improved mood and decreased stress, new research suggests.

The results of the small pilot study add to the growing body of evidence supporting the therapeutic value of gardening, study investigator Charles Guy, PhD, professor emeritus, University of Florida Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Gainesville, told this news organization.

“If we can see therapeutic benefits among healthy individuals in a rigorously designed study, where variability was as controlled as you will see in this field, then now is the time to invest in some large-scale multi-institutional studies,” Dr. Guy added.

The study was published online in PLOS ONE.
 

Horticulture as therapy

Horticulture therapy involves engaging in gardening and plant-based activities facilitated by a trained therapist. Previous studies found that this intervention reduces apathy and improves cognitive function in some populations.

The current study included healthy, nonsmoking, and non–drug-using women, whose average age was about 32.5 years and whose body mass index was less than 32. The participants had no chronic conditions and were not allergic to pollen or plants.

Virtually all previous studies of therapeutic gardening included participants who had been diagnosed with conditions such as depression, chronic pain, or PTSD. “If we can see a therapeutic benefit with perfectly healthy people, then this is likely to have a therapeutic effect with whatever clinical population you might be interested in looking at,” said Dr. Guy.

In addition, including only women reduced variability, which is important in a small study, he said.

The researchers randomly assigned 20 participants to the gardening intervention and 20 to an art intervention. Each intervention consisted of twice-weekly 60-minute sessions for 4 weeks and a single follow-up session.

The art group was asked not to visit art galleries, museums, arts and crafts events, or art-related websites. Those in the gardening group were told not to visit parks or botanical gardens, not to engage in gardening activities, and not to visit gardening websites.

Activities in both groups involved a similar level of physical, cognitive, and social engagement. Gardeners were taught how to plant seeds and transplant and harvest edible crops, such as tomatoes, beans, and basil. Those in the art group learned papermaking and storytelling through drawing, printmaking, and mixed media collage.

At the beginning and end of the study, participants completed six questionnaires: the Profile of Mood States 2-A (POMS) short form, the Perceived Stress Scale (PSS), the Beck Depression Inventory II (BDI-II), the State-Trait Anxiety Inventory for Adults, the Satisfaction With Participation in Discretionary Social Activities, and the 36-item Short-Form Survey.

Participants wore wrist cuff blood pressure and heart rate monitors.

The analysis included 15 persons in the gardening group and 17 in the art group.

Participants in both interventions improved on several scales. For example, the mean preintervention POMS TMD (T score) for gardeners was 53.1, which was reduced to a mean of 46.9 post intervention (P = .018). In the art group, the means score was 53.5 before the intervention and 47.0 after the intervention (P = .009).

For the PSS, mean scores went from 14.9 to 9.4 (P = .002) for gardening and from 15.8 to 10.0 (P = .001) for artmaking.

For the BDI-II, mean scores dropped from 8.2 to 2.8 (P = .001) for gardening and from 9.0 to 5.1 (P = .009) for art.

However, gardening was associated with less trait anxiety than artmaking. “We concluded that both interventions were roughly equally therapeutic, with one glaring exception, and that was with trait anxiety, where the gardening resulted in statistical separation from the art group,” said Dr. Guy.

There appeared to be dose responses for total mood disturbance, perceived stress, and depression symptomatology for both gardening and artmaking.

Neither intervention affected heart rate or blood pressure. A larger sample might be needed to detect treatment differences in healthy women, the investigators noted.

The therapeutic benefit of gardening may lie in the role of plants in human evolution, during which “we relied on plants for shelter; we relied on them for protection; we relied on them obviously for nutrition,” said Dr. Guy.

The study results support carrying out large, well-designed, rigorously designed trials “that will definitively and conclusively demonstrate treatment effects with quantitative descriptions of those treatment effects with respect to dosage,” he said.
 

Good for the mind

Commenting on the study, Sir Richard Thompson, MD, past president, Royal College of Physicians, London, who has written about the health benefits of gardening, said this new study provides “more evidence that both gardening and art therapy are good for the mind” with mostly equal benefits for the two interventions.

Anuradha Dullewe Wijeyeratne

“A much larger study would be needed to strengthen their case, but it fits in with much of the literature,” said Dr. Thompson.

However, he acknowledged the difficulty of carrying out scientifically robust studies in the field of alternative medicine, which “tends to be frowned upon” by some scientists.

Dr. Thompson identified some drawbacks of the study. In trying to measure so many parameters, the authors “may have had to resort to complex statistical analyses,” which may have led to some outcome changes being statistically positive by chance.

He noted that the study was small and that the gardening arm was “artificial” in that it was carried out in a greenhouse. “Maybe being outside would have been more beneficial; it would be interesting to test that hypothesis.”

As well, he pointed out initial differences between the two groups, including income and initial blood pressure, but he doubts these were significant.

He agreed that changes in cardiovascular parameters wouldn’t be expected in healthy young women, “as there’s little room for improvement.

“I wonder whether more improvement might have been seen in participants who were already suffering from anxiety, depression, etc.”

The study was supported by the Horticulture Research Institute, the Gene and Barbara Batson Endowed Nursery Fund, Florida Nursery Growers and Landscape Association, the Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Wilmot Botanical Gardens, the Center for Arts in Medicine, Health Shands Arts in Medicine, and the department of environmental horticulture at the University of Florida. The authors disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

New Yorker Lyss Stern came down with COVID-19 at the beginning of the pandemic, in March 2020. She ran a 103° F fever for 5 days straight and was bedridden for several weeks. Yet symptoms such as a persistent headache and tinnitus, or ringing in her ears, lingered.

“Four months later, I still couldn’t walk four blocks without becoming winded,” says Ms. Stern, 48. Five months after her diagnosis, her doctors finally gave a name to her condition: long COVID.

Long COVID is known by many different names: long-haul COVID, postacute COVID-19, or even chronic COVID. It’s a general term used to describe the range of ongoing health problems people can have after their infection.

The most recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has found that one in 13 adults in the United States – 7.5% – have symptoms that last at least 3 months after they first came down with the virus. Another earlier report found that one in five COVID-19 survivors between the ages of 18 and 64, and one in four survivors aged at least 65, have a health condition that may be related to their previous bout with the virus.

Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to screen for long COVID.

“There’s no definite laboratory test to give us a diagnosis,” says Daniel Sterman, MD, director of the division of pulmonary, critical care and sleep medicine at NYU Langone Health in New York. “We’re also still working on a definition, since there’s a whole slew of symptoms associated with the condition.”

It’s a challenge that Ms. Stern is personally acquainted with after she bounced from doctor to doctor for several months before she found her way to the Center for Post-COVID Care at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York. “It was a relief to have an official diagnosis, even if it didn’t bring immediate answers,” she says.
 

What to look for

Many people who become infected with COVID-19 get symptoms that linger for 2-3 weeks after their infection has cleared, says Brittany Baloun, a certified nurse practitioner at the Cleveland Clinic. “It’s not unusual to feel some residual shortness of breath or heart palpitations, especially if you are exerting yourself,” she says. “The acute phase of COVID itself can last for up to 14 days. But if it’s been 30 days since you came down with the virus, and your symptoms are still there and not improving, it indicates some level of long COVID.”

More than 200 symptoms can be linked to long COVID. But perhaps the one that stands out the most is constant fatigue that interferes with daily life.

“We often hear that these patients can’t fold the laundry or take a short walk with their dog without feeling exhausted,” Ms. Baloun says.

This exhaustion may get worse after patients exercise or do something mentally taxing, a condition known as postexertional malaise.

“It can be crushing fatigue; I may clean my room for an hour and talk to a friend, and the next day feel like I can’t get out of bed,” says Allison Guy, 36, who was diagnosed with COVID in February 2021. She’s now a long-COVID advocate in Washington.

Other symptoms can be divided into different categories, which include cardiac/lung symptoms such as shortness of breath, coughing, chest pain, and heart palpitations, as well as neurologic symptoms.

One of the most common neurologic symptoms is brain fog, says Andrew Schamess, MD, a professor of internal medicine at Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center, Columbus, who runs its post-COVID recovery program. “Patients describe feeling ‘fuzzy’ or ‘spacey,’ and often report that they are forgetful or have memory problems,” he says. Others include:

• Headache.
• Sleep problems. One 2022 study from the Cleveland Clinic found that more than 40% of patients with long COVID reported sleep disturbances.
• Dizziness when standing.
• Pins-and-needles feelings.
• Changes in smell or taste.
• Depression or anxiety.

You could also have digestive symptoms such as diarrhea or stomach pain. Other symptoms include joint or muscle pain, rashes, or changes in menstrual cycles.
 

Risk of having other health conditions

People who have had COVID-19, particularly a severe case, may be more at risk of getting other health conditions, such as:

• Type 2 diabetes.
• Kidney failure.
• Pulmonary embolism, or a blood clot in the lung.
• Myocarditis, an inflamed heart.

While it’s hard to say precisely whether these conditions were caused by COVID, they are most likely linked to it, says Dr. Schamess. A March 2022 study published in The Lancet Diabetes & Endocrinology, for example, found that people who had recovered from COVID-19 had a 40% higher risk of being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes over the next year.

“We don’t know for sure that infection with COVID-19 triggered someone’s diabetes – it may have been that they already had risk factors and the virus pushed them over the edge,” he says.

COVID-19 itself may also worsen conditions you already have, such as asthma, sleep apnea, or fibromyalgia. “We see patients with previously mild asthma who come in constantly coughing and wheezing, for example,” says Dr. Schamess. “They usually respond well once we start aggressive treatment.” That might include a continuous positive airway pressure, or CPAP, setup to help treat sleep apnea, or gabapentin to treat fibromyalgia symptoms.
 

Is it long COVID or something else?

Long COVID can cause a long list of symptoms, and they can easily mean other ailments. That’s one reason why, if your symptoms last for more than a month, it’s important to see a doctor, Ms. Baloun says. They can run a wide variety of tests to check for other conditions, such as a thyroid disorder or vitamin deficiency, that could be confused with long COVID.

They should also run blood tests such as D-dimer. This helps rule out a pulmonary embolism, which can be a complication of COVID-19 and also causes symptoms that may mimic long COVID, such as breathlessness and anxiety. They will also run tests to look for inflammation, Ms. Baloun says.

“These tests can’t provide definitive answers, but they can help provide clues as to what’s causing symptoms and whether they are related to long COVID,” she says.

What’s just as important, says Dr. Schamess, is a careful medical history. This can help pinpoint exactly when symptoms started, when they worsened, and whether anything else could have triggered them.

“I saw a patient recently who presented with symptoms of brain fog, memory loss, fatigue, headache, and sleep disturbance 5 months after she had COVID-19,” says Dr. Schamess. “After we talked, we realized that her symptoms were due to a fainting spell a couple of months earlier where she whacked her head very hard. She didn’t have long COVID – she had a concussion. But I wouldn’t have picked that up if I had just run a whole battery of tests.”

Ms. Stern agrees. “If you have long COVID, you may come across doctors who dismiss your symptoms, especially if your workups don’t show an obvious problem,” she says. “But you know your body. If it still seems like something is wrong, then you need to continue to push until you find answers.”

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

New Yorker Lyss Stern came down with COVID-19 at the beginning of the pandemic, in March 2020. She ran a 103° F fever for 5 days straight and was bedridden for several weeks. Yet symptoms such as a persistent headache and tinnitus, or ringing in her ears, lingered.

“Four months later, I still couldn’t walk four blocks without becoming winded,” says Ms. Stern, 48. Five months after her diagnosis, her doctors finally gave a name to her condition: long COVID.

Long COVID is known by many different names: long-haul COVID, postacute COVID-19, or even chronic COVID. It’s a general term used to describe the range of ongoing health problems people can have after their infection.

The most recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has found that one in 13 adults in the United States – 7.5% – have symptoms that last at least 3 months after they first came down with the virus. Another earlier report found that one in five COVID-19 survivors between the ages of 18 and 64, and one in four survivors aged at least 65, have a health condition that may be related to their previous bout with the virus.

Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to screen for long COVID.

“There’s no definite laboratory test to give us a diagnosis,” says Daniel Sterman, MD, director of the division of pulmonary, critical care and sleep medicine at NYU Langone Health in New York. “We’re also still working on a definition, since there’s a whole slew of symptoms associated with the condition.”

It’s a challenge that Ms. Stern is personally acquainted with after she bounced from doctor to doctor for several months before she found her way to the Center for Post-COVID Care at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York. “It was a relief to have an official diagnosis, even if it didn’t bring immediate answers,” she says.
 

What to look for

Many people who become infected with COVID-19 get symptoms that linger for 2-3 weeks after their infection has cleared, says Brittany Baloun, a certified nurse practitioner at the Cleveland Clinic. “It’s not unusual to feel some residual shortness of breath or heart palpitations, especially if you are exerting yourself,” she says. “The acute phase of COVID itself can last for up to 14 days. But if it’s been 30 days since you came down with the virus, and your symptoms are still there and not improving, it indicates some level of long COVID.”

More than 200 symptoms can be linked to long COVID. But perhaps the one that stands out the most is constant fatigue that interferes with daily life.

“We often hear that these patients can’t fold the laundry or take a short walk with their dog without feeling exhausted,” Ms. Baloun says.

This exhaustion may get worse after patients exercise or do something mentally taxing, a condition known as postexertional malaise.

“It can be crushing fatigue; I may clean my room for an hour and talk to a friend, and the next day feel like I can’t get out of bed,” says Allison Guy, 36, who was diagnosed with COVID in February 2021. She’s now a long-COVID advocate in Washington.

Other symptoms can be divided into different categories, which include cardiac/lung symptoms such as shortness of breath, coughing, chest pain, and heart palpitations, as well as neurologic symptoms.

One of the most common neurologic symptoms is brain fog, says Andrew Schamess, MD, a professor of internal medicine at Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center, Columbus, who runs its post-COVID recovery program. “Patients describe feeling ‘fuzzy’ or ‘spacey,’ and often report that they are forgetful or have memory problems,” he says. Others include:

• Headache.
• Sleep problems. One 2022 study from the Cleveland Clinic found that more than 40% of patients with long COVID reported sleep disturbances.
• Dizziness when standing.
• Pins-and-needles feelings.
• Changes in smell or taste.
• Depression or anxiety.

You could also have digestive symptoms such as diarrhea or stomach pain. Other symptoms include joint or muscle pain, rashes, or changes in menstrual cycles.
 

Risk of having other health conditions

People who have had COVID-19, particularly a severe case, may be more at risk of getting other health conditions, such as:

• Type 2 diabetes.
• Kidney failure.
• Pulmonary embolism, or a blood clot in the lung.
• Myocarditis, an inflamed heart.

While it’s hard to say precisely whether these conditions were caused by COVID, they are most likely linked to it, says Dr. Schamess. A March 2022 study published in The Lancet Diabetes & Endocrinology, for example, found that people who had recovered from COVID-19 had a 40% higher risk of being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes over the next year.

“We don’t know for sure that infection with COVID-19 triggered someone’s diabetes – it may have been that they already had risk factors and the virus pushed them over the edge,” he says.

COVID-19 itself may also worsen conditions you already have, such as asthma, sleep apnea, or fibromyalgia. “We see patients with previously mild asthma who come in constantly coughing and wheezing, for example,” says Dr. Schamess. “They usually respond well once we start aggressive treatment.” That might include a continuous positive airway pressure, or CPAP, setup to help treat sleep apnea, or gabapentin to treat fibromyalgia symptoms.
 

Is it long COVID or something else?

Long COVID can cause a long list of symptoms, and they can easily mean other ailments. That’s one reason why, if your symptoms last for more than a month, it’s important to see a doctor, Ms. Baloun says. They can run a wide variety of tests to check for other conditions, such as a thyroid disorder or vitamin deficiency, that could be confused with long COVID.

They should also run blood tests such as D-dimer. This helps rule out a pulmonary embolism, which can be a complication of COVID-19 and also causes symptoms that may mimic long COVID, such as breathlessness and anxiety. They will also run tests to look for inflammation, Ms. Baloun says.

“These tests can’t provide definitive answers, but they can help provide clues as to what’s causing symptoms and whether they are related to long COVID,” she says.

What’s just as important, says Dr. Schamess, is a careful medical history. This can help pinpoint exactly when symptoms started, when they worsened, and whether anything else could have triggered them.

“I saw a patient recently who presented with symptoms of brain fog, memory loss, fatigue, headache, and sleep disturbance 5 months after she had COVID-19,” says Dr. Schamess. “After we talked, we realized that her symptoms were due to a fainting spell a couple of months earlier where she whacked her head very hard. She didn’t have long COVID – she had a concussion. But I wouldn’t have picked that up if I had just run a whole battery of tests.”

Ms. Stern agrees. “If you have long COVID, you may come across doctors who dismiss your symptoms, especially if your workups don’t show an obvious problem,” she says. “But you know your body. If it still seems like something is wrong, then you need to continue to push until you find answers.”

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

New Yorker Lyss Stern came down with COVID-19 at the beginning of the pandemic, in March 2020. She ran a 103° F fever for 5 days straight and was bedridden for several weeks. Yet symptoms such as a persistent headache and tinnitus, or ringing in her ears, lingered.

“Four months later, I still couldn’t walk four blocks without becoming winded,” says Ms. Stern, 48. Five months after her diagnosis, her doctors finally gave a name to her condition: long COVID.

Long COVID is known by many different names: long-haul COVID, postacute COVID-19, or even chronic COVID. It’s a general term used to describe the range of ongoing health problems people can have after their infection.

The most recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has found that one in 13 adults in the United States – 7.5% – have symptoms that last at least 3 months after they first came down with the virus. Another earlier report found that one in five COVID-19 survivors between the ages of 18 and 64, and one in four survivors aged at least 65, have a health condition that may be related to their previous bout with the virus.

Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to screen for long COVID.

“There’s no definite laboratory test to give us a diagnosis,” says Daniel Sterman, MD, director of the division of pulmonary, critical care and sleep medicine at NYU Langone Health in New York. “We’re also still working on a definition, since there’s a whole slew of symptoms associated with the condition.”

It’s a challenge that Ms. Stern is personally acquainted with after she bounced from doctor to doctor for several months before she found her way to the Center for Post-COVID Care at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York. “It was a relief to have an official diagnosis, even if it didn’t bring immediate answers,” she says.
 

What to look for

Many people who become infected with COVID-19 get symptoms that linger for 2-3 weeks after their infection has cleared, says Brittany Baloun, a certified nurse practitioner at the Cleveland Clinic. “It’s not unusual to feel some residual shortness of breath or heart palpitations, especially if you are exerting yourself,” she says. “The acute phase of COVID itself can last for up to 14 days. But if it’s been 30 days since you came down with the virus, and your symptoms are still there and not improving, it indicates some level of long COVID.”

More than 200 symptoms can be linked to long COVID. But perhaps the one that stands out the most is constant fatigue that interferes with daily life.

“We often hear that these patients can’t fold the laundry or take a short walk with their dog without feeling exhausted,” Ms. Baloun says.

This exhaustion may get worse after patients exercise or do something mentally taxing, a condition known as postexertional malaise.

“It can be crushing fatigue; I may clean my room for an hour and talk to a friend, and the next day feel like I can’t get out of bed,” says Allison Guy, 36, who was diagnosed with COVID in February 2021. She’s now a long-COVID advocate in Washington.

Other symptoms can be divided into different categories, which include cardiac/lung symptoms such as shortness of breath, coughing, chest pain, and heart palpitations, as well as neurologic symptoms.

One of the most common neurologic symptoms is brain fog, says Andrew Schamess, MD, a professor of internal medicine at Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center, Columbus, who runs its post-COVID recovery program. “Patients describe feeling ‘fuzzy’ or ‘spacey,’ and often report that they are forgetful or have memory problems,” he says. Others include:

• Headache.
• Sleep problems. One 2022 study from the Cleveland Clinic found that more than 40% of patients with long COVID reported sleep disturbances.
• Dizziness when standing.
• Pins-and-needles feelings.
• Changes in smell or taste.
• Depression or anxiety.

You could also have digestive symptoms such as diarrhea or stomach pain. Other symptoms include joint or muscle pain, rashes, or changes in menstrual cycles.
 

Risk of having other health conditions

People who have had COVID-19, particularly a severe case, may be more at risk of getting other health conditions, such as:

• Type 2 diabetes.
• Kidney failure.
• Pulmonary embolism, or a blood clot in the lung.
• Myocarditis, an inflamed heart.

While it’s hard to say precisely whether these conditions were caused by COVID, they are most likely linked to it, says Dr. Schamess. A March 2022 study published in The Lancet Diabetes & Endocrinology, for example, found that people who had recovered from COVID-19 had a 40% higher risk of being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes over the next year.

“We don’t know for sure that infection with COVID-19 triggered someone’s diabetes – it may have been that they already had risk factors and the virus pushed them over the edge,” he says.

COVID-19 itself may also worsen conditions you already have, such as asthma, sleep apnea, or fibromyalgia. “We see patients with previously mild asthma who come in constantly coughing and wheezing, for example,” says Dr. Schamess. “They usually respond well once we start aggressive treatment.” That might include a continuous positive airway pressure, or CPAP, setup to help treat sleep apnea, or gabapentin to treat fibromyalgia symptoms.
 

Is it long COVID or something else?

Long COVID can cause a long list of symptoms, and they can easily mean other ailments. That’s one reason why, if your symptoms last for more than a month, it’s important to see a doctor, Ms. Baloun says. They can run a wide variety of tests to check for other conditions, such as a thyroid disorder or vitamin deficiency, that could be confused with long COVID.

They should also run blood tests such as D-dimer. This helps rule out a pulmonary embolism, which can be a complication of COVID-19 and also causes symptoms that may mimic long COVID, such as breathlessness and anxiety. They will also run tests to look for inflammation, Ms. Baloun says.

“These tests can’t provide definitive answers, but they can help provide clues as to what’s causing symptoms and whether they are related to long COVID,” she says.

What’s just as important, says Dr. Schamess, is a careful medical history. This can help pinpoint exactly when symptoms started, when they worsened, and whether anything else could have triggered them.

“I saw a patient recently who presented with symptoms of brain fog, memory loss, fatigue, headache, and sleep disturbance 5 months after she had COVID-19,” says Dr. Schamess. “After we talked, we realized that her symptoms were due to a fainting spell a couple of months earlier where she whacked her head very hard. She didn’t have long COVID – she had a concussion. But I wouldn’t have picked that up if I had just run a whole battery of tests.”

Ms. Stern agrees. “If you have long COVID, you may come across doctors who dismiss your symptoms, especially if your workups don’t show an obvious problem,” she says. “But you know your body. If it still seems like something is wrong, then you need to continue to push until you find answers.”

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

I was a resident, young and naive, when I bumped into my neighbor in the hospital hallway as he walked out of a psychiatrist’s office.

“Why are you here?” I asked, thinking that my neighbor, a theology professor, had some professional reason to be meeting with a psychiatrist, perhaps some type of community project. As the question escaped from my lips, however, I had an instant sense of regret and made a “note to self” in bold, all capital letters with a few exclamation points: Don’t ever ask friends or neighbors why they are visiting a psychiatrist. 

Fast-forward a number of decades, and I received an email from that neighbor. Charles Marsh, is now a professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia, Charlottesville, director of the Lived Theology Project, and author of several books. He sent me a link to an article he’d written about his treatment for an anxiety disorder and let me know he was working on a book on the topic. I later received the galleys for his manuscript, Evangelical Anxiety: A Memoir, which was released last month by HarperOne.

Professor Marsh opens his story as he’s sitting with his family in church, listening to his pastor’s sermon. It is a quiet April day, and as they are throughout this memoir, his descriptions are so vivid that the reader is sitting next to him in his familiar pew, there in that church on that Sunday, seeing what he sees, smelling what he smells, and feeling what he feels. The pastor confers a wish on his congregants: He’d like them all to have a nervous breakdown in their youth. He goes on to say that if Martin Luther had lived in the days of Prozac, his inner torment would have been quelled, and there would have been no Protestant reformation. Professor Marsh then treats us to the first of many humorous moments – he rushes home and swallows a tablet of Ativan.

Professor Marsh focuses on a single dividing point for his life, a day in the fall of 1981. He was resting on his bed in his dorm room at Harvard Divinity School at the ripe age of 23 years, 6 months, and 3 days (but who’s counting), when all of who he was changed. He described what he went through that night:

It was then that a high pandemonium ripped away everything protecting me from the world outside. I was no longer a person alone in his room. In an instant, I could hear all things inside my body in their deepest repercussions. My heart and its soft aortic murmur, my breath’s every exhalation and inhalation, the downward silences, the laborious intake – would this one be the last? How much noise the body makes when amped up on fear! I could hear the hiss of molecules colliding. And outside in the yellow night, the compressors harrumphing atop the nearby physics building, the sound of car engines and slamming doors. All these things I heard as tormenting assault, a soundscape I could not mute. I’d become a thought thinking about thinking itself and nothing else, metaphysics’ ancient curse. A cogitation cycling through every autonomous body function, placing on each a question mark like flowers for the dead.

This moment in time – this “breakdown,” as Professor Marsh repeatedly refers to it – bifurcated his life. He went from being a person who lived “disguised to myself as unaghast and free” to someone who could no longer find escape in his reading, who struggled in his own skin and his own mind, and who, for lack of a better description, was tortured. The “breakdown” passed, and Professor Marsh diagnosed himself with generalized anxiety disorder.

That night, he did not go to an emergency department nor did he seek help from services that were available to Harvard students. There was no psychiatrist, no therapy, no medication. It was, for him, with his fundamentalist Christian background, a religious event of sorts.

I counted it all joy if I should suffer. My sorrow, my soul’s sin-sickness, was not unintelligible – it was a kind of blessing, something that might draw me, like a medieval saint, to the suffering of my Lord, something that would testify wordlessly to my heroic exertion to attain purity. And, at least during those late days of autumn 1981, the heavens above and the earth below, spirit and flesh, felt miraculously aligned. Though suffering, this was the life I had craved.

Charles Marsh grew up as a Baptist pastor’s son in the Deep South during a time when the civil rights movement came to a head, and life was marked by fear and change. The memoir is not simply about one man’s struggle with an anxiety disorder, but a beautifully written account of life as an evangelical Christian during a tumultuous time of racial tensions and horrible violence. He details his life as a lonely only child in a God-fearing world cast in dark shadows, one where he struggled to belong and called out to his mother in the nights. Inside this world, Professor Marsh searched for his own religious identity, with the pride of being a high school “Jesus freak,” running alongside his repressed and frustrated sexual longings.

It was a world of good and bad, of heaven and hell, only the two became so confused as he talked about his existence full of fears: The windows were barred; violence and fear were central in his Alabama hometown, “the epicenter of white terrorism,” and then later when his family moved to Mississippi. He feared the barking dogs that guarded the houses, the bullies who tormented him, and the bullying in which, he too, joined in. He feared the switch-wielding adults – his mother, his principals, his coaches, and his youth pastor, all set on “breaking the will of the child,” a term he explains to be a Christian concept in which the child’s own will is broken so that he will be submissive to his parents and to God. 

Professor Marsh wanted so much to be good. And we’re not sure he even knew what that was as he battled his desire to conform and belong, and his ever-present sexual impulses. Even as an adult, he was certain his mother would know if he had premarital sex and he would have to kill himself. Sex outside of marriage was the one unpardonable sin.

He suffered in silence and shame. It was not until a few years later that he entered psychotherapy as a doctoral student. When he moved to Baltimore, he again looked for a therapist and eventually found himself with a psychiatrist who was training to be a psychoanalyst in the hospital where I was a resident. This psychoanalysis proved to be transformative and healing, but first, Professor Marsh needed to reconcile his treatment with his religious beliefs, as therapy and fundamental religion travel different roads.

Analysis and faith traverse similar terrain – they understand how language and narrative heal. They may see each other as strangers or competitors, but they need not. Like prayer, the analytic dialogue slows down to ponder, to meander, to piece together, to redeem; both inspire the mind toward hope under the influence of an empathetic listener. Neither needs the other to effectuate its truths, but they follow parallel tracks into the mysteries of being human, where all truth is God’s truth. It’s more than fine that they neither merge nor collide.

He goes on to describe how powerful the process was for him and his healing. 

Analysis is the space where one feels – where I felt in an embodied way, in the unhurried hours over months and years – a trust in the beautiful interplay between the center and the extremes. My body and mind would not be raised in resurrected splendor in the course of the treatment. I wish to emphasize the point. It was tempting to think that it would, that I would undergo a miraculous transformation. If not resurrected splendor, then surely I would take on the “new man.” Instead, I received the gift of mortal life: the freedom to be imperfect, to have fears and face them, to accept brokenness, to let go of the will to control all outcomes.

Evangelical Anxiety is a beautifully written book, and a look into two worlds that can feel so secretive to the outsider. Professor Marsh’s use of language is extraordinary; he has a gift for metaphors and descriptions, and he carries the reader alongside him on a splendid journey. It has to be said, however, that he assumes a lot: He is a sophisticated scholar who mentions religious leaders, philosophers, historical characters, and the occasional rock song, with no patience for those who don’t follow his quick transitions and impressive vocabulary; I could have read this book with a dictionary beside me (but I didn’t).

It’s an illuminating journey, often sad and disturbing, sometimes funny and endearing, and ultimately uplifting. In our skeptical world where psychiatrists are so are often undone, it is refreshing to read a memoir where the psychiatrist is the good guy and the patient emerges healed and whole.
 

Dr. Miller, is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I was a resident, young and naive, when I bumped into my neighbor in the hospital hallway as he walked out of a psychiatrist’s office.

“Why are you here?” I asked, thinking that my neighbor, a theology professor, had some professional reason to be meeting with a psychiatrist, perhaps some type of community project. As the question escaped from my lips, however, I had an instant sense of regret and made a “note to self” in bold, all capital letters with a few exclamation points: Don’t ever ask friends or neighbors why they are visiting a psychiatrist. 

Fast-forward a number of decades, and I received an email from that neighbor. Charles Marsh, is now a professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia, Charlottesville, director of the Lived Theology Project, and author of several books. He sent me a link to an article he’d written about his treatment for an anxiety disorder and let me know he was working on a book on the topic. I later received the galleys for his manuscript, Evangelical Anxiety: A Memoir, which was released last month by HarperOne.

Professor Marsh opens his story as he’s sitting with his family in church, listening to his pastor’s sermon. It is a quiet April day, and as they are throughout this memoir, his descriptions are so vivid that the reader is sitting next to him in his familiar pew, there in that church on that Sunday, seeing what he sees, smelling what he smells, and feeling what he feels. The pastor confers a wish on his congregants: He’d like them all to have a nervous breakdown in their youth. He goes on to say that if Martin Luther had lived in the days of Prozac, his inner torment would have been quelled, and there would have been no Protestant reformation. Professor Marsh then treats us to the first of many humorous moments – he rushes home and swallows a tablet of Ativan.

Professor Marsh focuses on a single dividing point for his life, a day in the fall of 1981. He was resting on his bed in his dorm room at Harvard Divinity School at the ripe age of 23 years, 6 months, and 3 days (but who’s counting), when all of who he was changed. He described what he went through that night:

It was then that a high pandemonium ripped away everything protecting me from the world outside. I was no longer a person alone in his room. In an instant, I could hear all things inside my body in their deepest repercussions. My heart and its soft aortic murmur, my breath’s every exhalation and inhalation, the downward silences, the laborious intake – would this one be the last? How much noise the body makes when amped up on fear! I could hear the hiss of molecules colliding. And outside in the yellow night, the compressors harrumphing atop the nearby physics building, the sound of car engines and slamming doors. All these things I heard as tormenting assault, a soundscape I could not mute. I’d become a thought thinking about thinking itself and nothing else, metaphysics’ ancient curse. A cogitation cycling through every autonomous body function, placing on each a question mark like flowers for the dead.

This moment in time – this “breakdown,” as Professor Marsh repeatedly refers to it – bifurcated his life. He went from being a person who lived “disguised to myself as unaghast and free” to someone who could no longer find escape in his reading, who struggled in his own skin and his own mind, and who, for lack of a better description, was tortured. The “breakdown” passed, and Professor Marsh diagnosed himself with generalized anxiety disorder.

That night, he did not go to an emergency department nor did he seek help from services that were available to Harvard students. There was no psychiatrist, no therapy, no medication. It was, for him, with his fundamentalist Christian background, a religious event of sorts.

I counted it all joy if I should suffer. My sorrow, my soul’s sin-sickness, was not unintelligible – it was a kind of blessing, something that might draw me, like a medieval saint, to the suffering of my Lord, something that would testify wordlessly to my heroic exertion to attain purity. And, at least during those late days of autumn 1981, the heavens above and the earth below, spirit and flesh, felt miraculously aligned. Though suffering, this was the life I had craved.

Charles Marsh grew up as a Baptist pastor’s son in the Deep South during a time when the civil rights movement came to a head, and life was marked by fear and change. The memoir is not simply about one man’s struggle with an anxiety disorder, but a beautifully written account of life as an evangelical Christian during a tumultuous time of racial tensions and horrible violence. He details his life as a lonely only child in a God-fearing world cast in dark shadows, one where he struggled to belong and called out to his mother in the nights. Inside this world, Professor Marsh searched for his own religious identity, with the pride of being a high school “Jesus freak,” running alongside his repressed and frustrated sexual longings.

It was a world of good and bad, of heaven and hell, only the two became so confused as he talked about his existence full of fears: The windows were barred; violence and fear were central in his Alabama hometown, “the epicenter of white terrorism,” and then later when his family moved to Mississippi. He feared the barking dogs that guarded the houses, the bullies who tormented him, and the bullying in which, he too, joined in. He feared the switch-wielding adults – his mother, his principals, his coaches, and his youth pastor, all set on “breaking the will of the child,” a term he explains to be a Christian concept in which the child’s own will is broken so that he will be submissive to his parents and to God. 

Professor Marsh wanted so much to be good. And we’re not sure he even knew what that was as he battled his desire to conform and belong, and his ever-present sexual impulses. Even as an adult, he was certain his mother would know if he had premarital sex and he would have to kill himself. Sex outside of marriage was the one unpardonable sin.

He suffered in silence and shame. It was not until a few years later that he entered psychotherapy as a doctoral student. When he moved to Baltimore, he again looked for a therapist and eventually found himself with a psychiatrist who was training to be a psychoanalyst in the hospital where I was a resident. This psychoanalysis proved to be transformative and healing, but first, Professor Marsh needed to reconcile his treatment with his religious beliefs, as therapy and fundamental religion travel different roads.

Analysis and faith traverse similar terrain – they understand how language and narrative heal. They may see each other as strangers or competitors, but they need not. Like prayer, the analytic dialogue slows down to ponder, to meander, to piece together, to redeem; both inspire the mind toward hope under the influence of an empathetic listener. Neither needs the other to effectuate its truths, but they follow parallel tracks into the mysteries of being human, where all truth is God’s truth. It’s more than fine that they neither merge nor collide.

He goes on to describe how powerful the process was for him and his healing. 

Analysis is the space where one feels – where I felt in an embodied way, in the unhurried hours over months and years – a trust in the beautiful interplay between the center and the extremes. My body and mind would not be raised in resurrected splendor in the course of the treatment. I wish to emphasize the point. It was tempting to think that it would, that I would undergo a miraculous transformation. If not resurrected splendor, then surely I would take on the “new man.” Instead, I received the gift of mortal life: the freedom to be imperfect, to have fears and face them, to accept brokenness, to let go of the will to control all outcomes.

Evangelical Anxiety is a beautifully written book, and a look into two worlds that can feel so secretive to the outsider. Professor Marsh’s use of language is extraordinary; he has a gift for metaphors and descriptions, and he carries the reader alongside him on a splendid journey. It has to be said, however, that he assumes a lot: He is a sophisticated scholar who mentions religious leaders, philosophers, historical characters, and the occasional rock song, with no patience for those who don’t follow his quick transitions and impressive vocabulary; I could have read this book with a dictionary beside me (but I didn’t).

It’s an illuminating journey, often sad and disturbing, sometimes funny and endearing, and ultimately uplifting. In our skeptical world where psychiatrists are so are often undone, it is refreshing to read a memoir where the psychiatrist is the good guy and the patient emerges healed and whole.
 

Dr. Miller, is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I was a resident, young and naive, when I bumped into my neighbor in the hospital hallway as he walked out of a psychiatrist’s office.

“Why are you here?” I asked, thinking that my neighbor, a theology professor, had some professional reason to be meeting with a psychiatrist, perhaps some type of community project. As the question escaped from my lips, however, I had an instant sense of regret and made a “note to self” in bold, all capital letters with a few exclamation points: Don’t ever ask friends or neighbors why they are visiting a psychiatrist. 

Fast-forward a number of decades, and I received an email from that neighbor. Charles Marsh, is now a professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia, Charlottesville, director of the Lived Theology Project, and author of several books. He sent me a link to an article he’d written about his treatment for an anxiety disorder and let me know he was working on a book on the topic. I later received the galleys for his manuscript, Evangelical Anxiety: A Memoir, which was released last month by HarperOne.

Professor Marsh opens his story as he’s sitting with his family in church, listening to his pastor’s sermon. It is a quiet April day, and as they are throughout this memoir, his descriptions are so vivid that the reader is sitting next to him in his familiar pew, there in that church on that Sunday, seeing what he sees, smelling what he smells, and feeling what he feels. The pastor confers a wish on his congregants: He’d like them all to have a nervous breakdown in their youth. He goes on to say that if Martin Luther had lived in the days of Prozac, his inner torment would have been quelled, and there would have been no Protestant reformation. Professor Marsh then treats us to the first of many humorous moments – he rushes home and swallows a tablet of Ativan.

Professor Marsh focuses on a single dividing point for his life, a day in the fall of 1981. He was resting on his bed in his dorm room at Harvard Divinity School at the ripe age of 23 years, 6 months, and 3 days (but who’s counting), when all of who he was changed. He described what he went through that night:

It was then that a high pandemonium ripped away everything protecting me from the world outside. I was no longer a person alone in his room. In an instant, I could hear all things inside my body in their deepest repercussions. My heart and its soft aortic murmur, my breath’s every exhalation and inhalation, the downward silences, the laborious intake – would this one be the last? How much noise the body makes when amped up on fear! I could hear the hiss of molecules colliding. And outside in the yellow night, the compressors harrumphing atop the nearby physics building, the sound of car engines and slamming doors. All these things I heard as tormenting assault, a soundscape I could not mute. I’d become a thought thinking about thinking itself and nothing else, metaphysics’ ancient curse. A cogitation cycling through every autonomous body function, placing on each a question mark like flowers for the dead.

This moment in time – this “breakdown,” as Professor Marsh repeatedly refers to it – bifurcated his life. He went from being a person who lived “disguised to myself as unaghast and free” to someone who could no longer find escape in his reading, who struggled in his own skin and his own mind, and who, for lack of a better description, was tortured. The “breakdown” passed, and Professor Marsh diagnosed himself with generalized anxiety disorder.

That night, he did not go to an emergency department nor did he seek help from services that were available to Harvard students. There was no psychiatrist, no therapy, no medication. It was, for him, with his fundamentalist Christian background, a religious event of sorts.

I counted it all joy if I should suffer. My sorrow, my soul’s sin-sickness, was not unintelligible – it was a kind of blessing, something that might draw me, like a medieval saint, to the suffering of my Lord, something that would testify wordlessly to my heroic exertion to attain purity. And, at least during those late days of autumn 1981, the heavens above and the earth below, spirit and flesh, felt miraculously aligned. Though suffering, this was the life I had craved.

Charles Marsh grew up as a Baptist pastor’s son in the Deep South during a time when the civil rights movement came to a head, and life was marked by fear and change. The memoir is not simply about one man’s struggle with an anxiety disorder, but a beautifully written account of life as an evangelical Christian during a tumultuous time of racial tensions and horrible violence. He details his life as a lonely only child in a God-fearing world cast in dark shadows, one where he struggled to belong and called out to his mother in the nights. Inside this world, Professor Marsh searched for his own religious identity, with the pride of being a high school “Jesus freak,” running alongside his repressed and frustrated sexual longings.

It was a world of good and bad, of heaven and hell, only the two became so confused as he talked about his existence full of fears: The windows were barred; violence and fear were central in his Alabama hometown, “the epicenter of white terrorism,” and then later when his family moved to Mississippi. He feared the barking dogs that guarded the houses, the bullies who tormented him, and the bullying in which, he too, joined in. He feared the switch-wielding adults – his mother, his principals, his coaches, and his youth pastor, all set on “breaking the will of the child,” a term he explains to be a Christian concept in which the child’s own will is broken so that he will be submissive to his parents and to God. 

Professor Marsh wanted so much to be good. And we’re not sure he even knew what that was as he battled his desire to conform and belong, and his ever-present sexual impulses. Even as an adult, he was certain his mother would know if he had premarital sex and he would have to kill himself. Sex outside of marriage was the one unpardonable sin.

He suffered in silence and shame. It was not until a few years later that he entered psychotherapy as a doctoral student. When he moved to Baltimore, he again looked for a therapist and eventually found himself with a psychiatrist who was training to be a psychoanalyst in the hospital where I was a resident. This psychoanalysis proved to be transformative and healing, but first, Professor Marsh needed to reconcile his treatment with his religious beliefs, as therapy and fundamental religion travel different roads.

Analysis and faith traverse similar terrain – they understand how language and narrative heal. They may see each other as strangers or competitors, but they need not. Like prayer, the analytic dialogue slows down to ponder, to meander, to piece together, to redeem; both inspire the mind toward hope under the influence of an empathetic listener. Neither needs the other to effectuate its truths, but they follow parallel tracks into the mysteries of being human, where all truth is God’s truth. It’s more than fine that they neither merge nor collide.

He goes on to describe how powerful the process was for him and his healing. 

Analysis is the space where one feels – where I felt in an embodied way, in the unhurried hours over months and years – a trust in the beautiful interplay between the center and the extremes. My body and mind would not be raised in resurrected splendor in the course of the treatment. I wish to emphasize the point. It was tempting to think that it would, that I would undergo a miraculous transformation. If not resurrected splendor, then surely I would take on the “new man.” Instead, I received the gift of mortal life: the freedom to be imperfect, to have fears and face them, to accept brokenness, to let go of the will to control all outcomes.

Evangelical Anxiety is a beautifully written book, and a look into two worlds that can feel so secretive to the outsider. Professor Marsh’s use of language is extraordinary; he has a gift for metaphors and descriptions, and he carries the reader alongside him on a splendid journey. It has to be said, however, that he assumes a lot: He is a sophisticated scholar who mentions religious leaders, philosophers, historical characters, and the occasional rock song, with no patience for those who don’t follow his quick transitions and impressive vocabulary; I could have read this book with a dictionary beside me (but I didn’t).

It’s an illuminating journey, often sad and disturbing, sometimes funny and endearing, and ultimately uplifting. In our skeptical world where psychiatrists are so are often undone, it is refreshing to read a memoir where the psychiatrist is the good guy and the patient emerges healed and whole.
 

Dr. Miller, is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

President Joe Biden has tested positive for COVID-19, the White House announced today.

Biden, 79, is experiencing “very mild” symptoms, White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre said in a statement. The president is fully vaccinated and has been boosted twice and has started taking the antiviral Paxlovid since testing positive, Ms. Jean-Pierre said.

President Biden plans to isolate at the White House and “will continue to carry out all of his duties fully during that time,” the statement said.

“He has been in contact with members of the White House staff by phone this morning, and will participate in his planned meetings at the White House this morning via phone and Zoom from the residence.”

President Biden will return to in-person work after he tests negative.

This is a developing story. Please check back for updates. A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com .

President Joe Biden has tested positive for COVID-19, the White House announced today.

Biden, 79, is experiencing “very mild” symptoms, White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre said in a statement. The president is fully vaccinated and has been boosted twice and has started taking the antiviral Paxlovid since testing positive, Ms. Jean-Pierre said.

President Biden plans to isolate at the White House and “will continue to carry out all of his duties fully during that time,” the statement said.

“He has been in contact with members of the White House staff by phone this morning, and will participate in his planned meetings at the White House this morning via phone and Zoom from the residence.”

President Biden will return to in-person work after he tests negative.

This is a developing story. Please check back for updates. A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com .

President Joe Biden has tested positive for COVID-19, the White House announced today.

Biden, 79, is experiencing “very mild” symptoms, White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre said in a statement. The president is fully vaccinated and has been boosted twice and has started taking the antiviral Paxlovid since testing positive, Ms. Jean-Pierre said.

President Biden plans to isolate at the White House and “will continue to carry out all of his duties fully during that time,” the statement said.

“He has been in contact with members of the White House staff by phone this morning, and will participate in his planned meetings at the White House this morning via phone and Zoom from the residence.”

President Biden will return to in-person work after he tests negative.

This is a developing story. Please check back for updates. A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com .

After a year of uncertainty and decline because of the COVID-19 pandemic, demand for clinicians has rebounded – and the job market for new physicians and advanced practitioners is back to normal, or more accurately “the new normal,” according to a recently released report from Merritt Hawkins, the physician search division of AMN Healthcare.

The study is based on an analysis of job search and consulting assignments that the firm conducted on behalf of its health care organization clients from April 1, 2021, to March 31, 2022.

“Search engagements were down a little over 30% in 2020, but by the end of 2021, everything started spiking dramatically to the point of where we were at a 34-year high,” Michael Belkin, divisional vice president with Merritt Hawkins, told this news organization. “The pendulum has gone all the way back. People are more interested in going out and seeing their physicians.”

Demand for physicians was suppressed during the peak of the pandemic, as many hospitals curtailed elective procedures and many patients refrained from entering a medical facility. A large backlog of patients needing care subsequently developed.

This, combined with an aging population and widespread chronic medical conditions, has caused a strong surge in demand for physicians and advanced practitioners, according to the report.

In addition to the volume of searches increasing, physician starting salaries have rebounded from the COVID-19 downturn.

Average starting salaries of 14 physician specialties tracked in 2021/2022 increased, while only 3 decreased. Orthopedic surgeons were offered an average of $565,000 to start, exclusive of signing bonuses and other incentives, up from $546,000 the previous year. Urologists were offered an average of $510,000 to start, up from $497,000; gastroenterologists were offered $474,000, up from $453,000; while radiologists were offered $455,000, up from $401,000.

Similarly, a recent Medscape study based on responses from more than 13,000 U.S. physicians across 29 specialties found that income for all physician specialists increased, with otolaryngologists, gastroenterologists, and dermatologists experiencing the greatest gains.
 

A new reality

While the job market for physicians and advanced practitioners has seemingly recovered, there are many differences between today’s working environment for clinicians and what existed during the pandemic.

First, specialists are now stepping into the spotlight, a position that primary care clinicians previously held. The majority of Merritt Hawkins’ search engagements (64%) in 2021/2022 were for physician specialists, including cardiologists, gastroenterologists, orthopedic surgeons, neurologists, oncologists, and others. Only 17% of the search engagements were for primary care physicians, down from 18% in 2020/2021 and 20% in 2019/2020.

“We’ve seen specialties bounce back faster. Of course, you’ve got the aging population; you’ve got people that want that specialized care,” Mr. Belkin said.

Advanced practitioners also are playing a more significant role in the postpandemic word. In fact, 19% of Merritt Hawkins’ search engagements were for advanced practitioners, including nurse practitioners (NPs), physician assistants, and certified registered nurse anesthetists, up from 18% the previous year and just 13% the year prior to that, indicating growing demand for nonphysician providers.

NPs, in fact, topped the list of most requested search engagements, underscoring a shift from traditional physician office-based primary care delivery settings toward “convenient care” settings such as urgent care centers and retail clinics that are largely staffed by NPs and other advanced practitioners.

Advanced practitioners are taking on more responsibility for primary care simply because there is a large number of these professionals ready to take on the challenge.

The health care industry was “not able to produce enough primary care physicians over the last decade. So advanced practitioners, I believe, have slowly started to work alongside those primary care physicians. In a lot of areas such as your retail space, your CVS, your Walmart, your Walgreens, your standalone urgent cares, they’ve stepped up,” Mr. Belkin said.

Advanced practitioners also are providing the convenience that consumers are increasingly demanding.

“We are a society that wants things immediately ... but it’s still a challenge to schedule an appointment with a physician. However, it’s less of a challenge to get into a retail clinic or an urgent care center or to schedule something through telehealth,” Mr. Belkin noted.
 

More than just money

With the job market strong, the challenge for health care organizations is to create competitive recruiting packages. Sure enough, 92% of candidates were offered signing bonuses in 2021/2022 compared with just 61% in 2020/2021.

The financial incentives, however, might not be enough. In this environment, health care organizations need to go beyond simply offering competitive salaries to new recruits. For example, clinicians are seeking flexibility, as many potential hires are seeking remote positions. In fact, 18% of radiology search engagements were for teleradiologists, while 15% of its search engagements for psychiatrists were for telepsychiatrists in 2021/2022.

“Right now, quality of life is a very important factor. It’s work-life balance. It’s sensitivity to the stresses that we just experienced over the last 2.5 years,” Mr. Belkin concluded. “There’s more sensitivity around the culture of the organizations. What’s the leadership like? How did the organization handle the pandemic? How do they respond?”

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

After a year of uncertainty and decline because of the COVID-19 pandemic, demand for clinicians has rebounded – and the job market for new physicians and advanced practitioners is back to normal, or more accurately “the new normal,” according to a recently released report from Merritt Hawkins, the physician search division of AMN Healthcare.

The study is based on an analysis of job search and consulting assignments that the firm conducted on behalf of its health care organization clients from April 1, 2021, to March 31, 2022.

“Search engagements were down a little over 30% in 2020, but by the end of 2021, everything started spiking dramatically to the point of where we were at a 34-year high,” Michael Belkin, divisional vice president with Merritt Hawkins, told this news organization. “The pendulum has gone all the way back. People are more interested in going out and seeing their physicians.”

Demand for physicians was suppressed during the peak of the pandemic, as many hospitals curtailed elective procedures and many patients refrained from entering a medical facility. A large backlog of patients needing care subsequently developed.

This, combined with an aging population and widespread chronic medical conditions, has caused a strong surge in demand for physicians and advanced practitioners, according to the report.

In addition to the volume of searches increasing, physician starting salaries have rebounded from the COVID-19 downturn.

Average starting salaries of 14 physician specialties tracked in 2021/2022 increased, while only 3 decreased. Orthopedic surgeons were offered an average of $565,000 to start, exclusive of signing bonuses and other incentives, up from $546,000 the previous year. Urologists were offered an average of $510,000 to start, up from $497,000; gastroenterologists were offered $474,000, up from $453,000; while radiologists were offered $455,000, up from $401,000.

Similarly, a recent Medscape study based on responses from more than 13,000 U.S. physicians across 29 specialties found that income for all physician specialists increased, with otolaryngologists, gastroenterologists, and dermatologists experiencing the greatest gains.
 

A new reality

While the job market for physicians and advanced practitioners has seemingly recovered, there are many differences between today’s working environment for clinicians and what existed during the pandemic.

First, specialists are now stepping into the spotlight, a position that primary care clinicians previously held. The majority of Merritt Hawkins’ search engagements (64%) in 2021/2022 were for physician specialists, including cardiologists, gastroenterologists, orthopedic surgeons, neurologists, oncologists, and others. Only 17% of the search engagements were for primary care physicians, down from 18% in 2020/2021 and 20% in 2019/2020.

“We’ve seen specialties bounce back faster. Of course, you’ve got the aging population; you’ve got people that want that specialized care,” Mr. Belkin said.

Advanced practitioners also are playing a more significant role in the postpandemic word. In fact, 19% of Merritt Hawkins’ search engagements were for advanced practitioners, including nurse practitioners (NPs), physician assistants, and certified registered nurse anesthetists, up from 18% the previous year and just 13% the year prior to that, indicating growing demand for nonphysician providers.

NPs, in fact, topped the list of most requested search engagements, underscoring a shift from traditional physician office-based primary care delivery settings toward “convenient care” settings such as urgent care centers and retail clinics that are largely staffed by NPs and other advanced practitioners.

Advanced practitioners are taking on more responsibility for primary care simply because there is a large number of these professionals ready to take on the challenge.

The health care industry was “not able to produce enough primary care physicians over the last decade. So advanced practitioners, I believe, have slowly started to work alongside those primary care physicians. In a lot of areas such as your retail space, your CVS, your Walmart, your Walgreens, your standalone urgent cares, they’ve stepped up,” Mr. Belkin said.

Advanced practitioners also are providing the convenience that consumers are increasingly demanding.

“We are a society that wants things immediately ... but it’s still a challenge to schedule an appointment with a physician. However, it’s less of a challenge to get into a retail clinic or an urgent care center or to schedule something through telehealth,” Mr. Belkin noted.
 

More than just money

With the job market strong, the challenge for health care organizations is to create competitive recruiting packages. Sure enough, 92% of candidates were offered signing bonuses in 2021/2022 compared with just 61% in 2020/2021.

The financial incentives, however, might not be enough. In this environment, health care organizations need to go beyond simply offering competitive salaries to new recruits. For example, clinicians are seeking flexibility, as many potential hires are seeking remote positions. In fact, 18% of radiology search engagements were for teleradiologists, while 15% of its search engagements for psychiatrists were for telepsychiatrists in 2021/2022.

“Right now, quality of life is a very important factor. It’s work-life balance. It’s sensitivity to the stresses that we just experienced over the last 2.5 years,” Mr. Belkin concluded. “There’s more sensitivity around the culture of the organizations. What’s the leadership like? How did the organization handle the pandemic? How do they respond?”

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

After a year of uncertainty and decline because of the COVID-19 pandemic, demand for clinicians has rebounded – and the job market for new physicians and advanced practitioners is back to normal, or more accurately “the new normal,” according to a recently released report from Merritt Hawkins, the physician search division of AMN Healthcare.

The study is based on an analysis of job search and consulting assignments that the firm conducted on behalf of its health care organization clients from April 1, 2021, to March 31, 2022.

“Search engagements were down a little over 30% in 2020, but by the end of 2021, everything started spiking dramatically to the point of where we were at a 34-year high,” Michael Belkin, divisional vice president with Merritt Hawkins, told this news organization. “The pendulum has gone all the way back. People are more interested in going out and seeing their physicians.”

Demand for physicians was suppressed during the peak of the pandemic, as many hospitals curtailed elective procedures and many patients refrained from entering a medical facility. A large backlog of patients needing care subsequently developed.

This, combined with an aging population and widespread chronic medical conditions, has caused a strong surge in demand for physicians and advanced practitioners, according to the report.

In addition to the volume of searches increasing, physician starting salaries have rebounded from the COVID-19 downturn.

Average starting salaries of 14 physician specialties tracked in 2021/2022 increased, while only 3 decreased. Orthopedic surgeons were offered an average of $565,000 to start, exclusive of signing bonuses and other incentives, up from $546,000 the previous year. Urologists were offered an average of $510,000 to start, up from $497,000; gastroenterologists were offered $474,000, up from $453,000; while radiologists were offered $455,000, up from $401,000.

Similarly, a recent Medscape study based on responses from more than 13,000 U.S. physicians across 29 specialties found that income for all physician specialists increased, with otolaryngologists, gastroenterologists, and dermatologists experiencing the greatest gains.
 

A new reality

While the job market for physicians and advanced practitioners has seemingly recovered, there are many differences between today’s working environment for clinicians and what existed during the pandemic.

First, specialists are now stepping into the spotlight, a position that primary care clinicians previously held. The majority of Merritt Hawkins’ search engagements (64%) in 2021/2022 were for physician specialists, including cardiologists, gastroenterologists, orthopedic surgeons, neurologists, oncologists, and others. Only 17% of the search engagements were for primary care physicians, down from 18% in 2020/2021 and 20% in 2019/2020.

“We’ve seen specialties bounce back faster. Of course, you’ve got the aging population; you’ve got people that want that specialized care,” Mr. Belkin said.

Advanced practitioners also are playing a more significant role in the postpandemic word. In fact, 19% of Merritt Hawkins’ search engagements were for advanced practitioners, including nurse practitioners (NPs), physician assistants, and certified registered nurse anesthetists, up from 18% the previous year and just 13% the year prior to that, indicating growing demand for nonphysician providers.

NPs, in fact, topped the list of most requested search engagements, underscoring a shift from traditional physician office-based primary care delivery settings toward “convenient care” settings such as urgent care centers and retail clinics that are largely staffed by NPs and other advanced practitioners.

Advanced practitioners are taking on more responsibility for primary care simply because there is a large number of these professionals ready to take on the challenge.

The health care industry was “not able to produce enough primary care physicians over the last decade. So advanced practitioners, I believe, have slowly started to work alongside those primary care physicians. In a lot of areas such as your retail space, your CVS, your Walmart, your Walgreens, your standalone urgent cares, they’ve stepped up,” Mr. Belkin said.

Advanced practitioners also are providing the convenience that consumers are increasingly demanding.

“We are a society that wants things immediately ... but it’s still a challenge to schedule an appointment with a physician. However, it’s less of a challenge to get into a retail clinic or an urgent care center or to schedule something through telehealth,” Mr. Belkin noted.
 

More than just money

With the job market strong, the challenge for health care organizations is to create competitive recruiting packages. Sure enough, 92% of candidates were offered signing bonuses in 2021/2022 compared with just 61% in 2020/2021.

The financial incentives, however, might not be enough. In this environment, health care organizations need to go beyond simply offering competitive salaries to new recruits. For example, clinicians are seeking flexibility, as many potential hires are seeking remote positions. In fact, 18% of radiology search engagements were for teleradiologists, while 15% of its search engagements for psychiatrists were for telepsychiatrists in 2021/2022.

“Right now, quality of life is a very important factor. It’s work-life balance. It’s sensitivity to the stresses that we just experienced over the last 2.5 years,” Mr. Belkin concluded. “There’s more sensitivity around the culture of the organizations. What’s the leadership like? How did the organization handle the pandemic? How do they respond?”

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

In a video posted to TikTok by the comedian Will Flanary, MD, better known to his followers as Dr. Glaucomflecken, he imitates a neurosurgical residency interview. With glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, Dr. Glaucomflecken poses as the attending, asking: “What are your weaknesses?”

The residency applicant answers without hesitation: “My physiological need for sleep.” “What are your strengths?” The resident replies with the hard, steely stare of the determined and uninitiated: “My desire to eliminate my physiological need for sleep.”

If you follow Dr. Glaucomflecken on Twitter, you might know the skit I’m referencing. For many physicians and physicians-in-training, what makes the satire successful is its reflection of reality.

Many things have changed in medicine since his time, but the tired trope of the sleepless surgeon hangs on. Undaunted, I spent my second and third year of medical school accumulating accolades, conducting research, and connecting with mentors with the singular goal of joining the surgical ranks.

Midway through my third year, I completed a month-long surgical subinternship designed to give students a taste of what life would look like as an intern. I loved the operating room; it felt like the difference between being on dry land and being underwater. There were fewer distractions – your patient in the spotlight while everything else receded to the shadows.

However, as the month wore on, something stronger took hold. I couldn’t keep my eyes open in the darkened operating rooms and had to decline stools, fearing that I would fall asleep if I sat down.

On early morning prerounds, it’s 4:50 a.m. when I glance at the clock and pull back the curtain, already apologizing. My patient rolls over, flashing a wry smile. “Do you ever go home?” I’ve seen residents respond to this exact question in various ways. I live here. Yes. No. Soon. Not enough. My partner doesn’t think so.

There are days and, yes, years when we are led to believe this is what we live for: to be constantly available to our patients. It feels like a hollow victory when the patient, 2 days out from a total colectomy, begins to worry about your personal life. I ask her how she slept (not enough), any fevers (no), vomiting (no), urinating (I pause – she has a catheter).

My favorite part of these early morning rounds is the pause in my scripted litany of questions to listen to heart and lungs. It never fails to feel sacred: Patients become so quiet and still that I can’t help but think they have faith in me. Without prompting, she slides the back of her hospital gown forward like a curtain, already taking deep breaths so I can hear her lungs.

I look outside. The streetlights are still on, and from the seventh-floor window, I can watch staff making their way through the sliding double-doors, just beyond the yellowed pools of streetlight. I smile. I love medicine. I’m so tired.

For many in medicine, we are treated, and thus behave, as though our ability to manipulate physiology should also apply within the borders of our bodies: commanding less sleep, food, or bathroom breaks.

It places health care workers solidly in the realm of superhuman, living beyond one’s corporeal needs. The pandemic only heightened this misappropriation – adding hero and setting out a pedestal for health care workers to make their ungainly ascent. This kind of unsolicited admiration implicitly implies inhumanness, an otherness.

What would it look like if we started treating ourselves less like physicians and more like patients? I wish I was offering a solution, but really this is just a story. Maybe it’s not more sleep you need but something just as critical to the delicate physiologic and psychological scales of well-being.

To students rising through the ranks of medical training, identify what it is you need early and often. I can count on one hand how many physicians I’ve seen take a lunch break – even 10 minutes. Embrace hard work and self-preservation equally. My hope is that if enough of us take this path, it just might become a matter of course.

Dr. Meffert is a resident in the department of emergency medicine, MedStar Georgetown University Hospital, Washington Hospital Center, Washington. Dr. Meffert disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

In a video posted to TikTok by the comedian Will Flanary, MD, better known to his followers as Dr. Glaucomflecken, he imitates a neurosurgical residency interview. With glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, Dr. Glaucomflecken poses as the attending, asking: “What are your weaknesses?”

The residency applicant answers without hesitation: “My physiological need for sleep.” “What are your strengths?” The resident replies with the hard, steely stare of the determined and uninitiated: “My desire to eliminate my physiological need for sleep.”

If you follow Dr. Glaucomflecken on Twitter, you might know the skit I’m referencing. For many physicians and physicians-in-training, what makes the satire successful is its reflection of reality.

Many things have changed in medicine since his time, but the tired trope of the sleepless surgeon hangs on. Undaunted, I spent my second and third year of medical school accumulating accolades, conducting research, and connecting with mentors with the singular goal of joining the surgical ranks.

Midway through my third year, I completed a month-long surgical subinternship designed to give students a taste of what life would look like as an intern. I loved the operating room; it felt like the difference between being on dry land and being underwater. There were fewer distractions – your patient in the spotlight while everything else receded to the shadows.

However, as the month wore on, something stronger took hold. I couldn’t keep my eyes open in the darkened operating rooms and had to decline stools, fearing that I would fall asleep if I sat down.

On early morning prerounds, it’s 4:50 a.m. when I glance at the clock and pull back the curtain, already apologizing. My patient rolls over, flashing a wry smile. “Do you ever go home?” I’ve seen residents respond to this exact question in various ways. I live here. Yes. No. Soon. Not enough. My partner doesn’t think so.

There are days and, yes, years when we are led to believe this is what we live for: to be constantly available to our patients. It feels like a hollow victory when the patient, 2 days out from a total colectomy, begins to worry about your personal life. I ask her how she slept (not enough), any fevers (no), vomiting (no), urinating (I pause – she has a catheter).

My favorite part of these early morning rounds is the pause in my scripted litany of questions to listen to heart and lungs. It never fails to feel sacred: Patients become so quiet and still that I can’t help but think they have faith in me. Without prompting, she slides the back of her hospital gown forward like a curtain, already taking deep breaths so I can hear her lungs.

I look outside. The streetlights are still on, and from the seventh-floor window, I can watch staff making their way through the sliding double-doors, just beyond the yellowed pools of streetlight. I smile. I love medicine. I’m so tired.

For many in medicine, we are treated, and thus behave, as though our ability to manipulate physiology should also apply within the borders of our bodies: commanding less sleep, food, or bathroom breaks.

It places health care workers solidly in the realm of superhuman, living beyond one’s corporeal needs. The pandemic only heightened this misappropriation – adding hero and setting out a pedestal for health care workers to make their ungainly ascent. This kind of unsolicited admiration implicitly implies inhumanness, an otherness.

What would it look like if we started treating ourselves less like physicians and more like patients? I wish I was offering a solution, but really this is just a story. Maybe it’s not more sleep you need but something just as critical to the delicate physiologic and psychological scales of well-being.

To students rising through the ranks of medical training, identify what it is you need early and often. I can count on one hand how many physicians I’ve seen take a lunch break – even 10 minutes. Embrace hard work and self-preservation equally. My hope is that if enough of us take this path, it just might become a matter of course.

Dr. Meffert is a resident in the department of emergency medicine, MedStar Georgetown University Hospital, Washington Hospital Center, Washington. Dr. Meffert disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

In a video posted to TikTok by the comedian Will Flanary, MD, better known to his followers as Dr. Glaucomflecken, he imitates a neurosurgical residency interview. With glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, Dr. Glaucomflecken poses as the attending, asking: “What are your weaknesses?”

The residency applicant answers without hesitation: “My physiological need for sleep.” “What are your strengths?” The resident replies with the hard, steely stare of the determined and uninitiated: “My desire to eliminate my physiological need for sleep.”

If you follow Dr. Glaucomflecken on Twitter, you might know the skit I’m referencing. For many physicians and physicians-in-training, what makes the satire successful is its reflection of reality.

Many things have changed in medicine since his time, but the tired trope of the sleepless surgeon hangs on. Undaunted, I spent my second and third year of medical school accumulating accolades, conducting research, and connecting with mentors with the singular goal of joining the surgical ranks.

Midway through my third year, I completed a month-long surgical subinternship designed to give students a taste of what life would look like as an intern. I loved the operating room; it felt like the difference between being on dry land and being underwater. There were fewer distractions – your patient in the spotlight while everything else receded to the shadows.

However, as the month wore on, something stronger took hold. I couldn’t keep my eyes open in the darkened operating rooms and had to decline stools, fearing that I would fall asleep if I sat down.

On early morning prerounds, it’s 4:50 a.m. when I glance at the clock and pull back the curtain, already apologizing. My patient rolls over, flashing a wry smile. “Do you ever go home?” I’ve seen residents respond to this exact question in various ways. I live here. Yes. No. Soon. Not enough. My partner doesn’t think so.

There are days and, yes, years when we are led to believe this is what we live for: to be constantly available to our patients. It feels like a hollow victory when the patient, 2 days out from a total colectomy, begins to worry about your personal life. I ask her how she slept (not enough), any fevers (no), vomiting (no), urinating (I pause – she has a catheter).

My favorite part of these early morning rounds is the pause in my scripted litany of questions to listen to heart and lungs. It never fails to feel sacred: Patients become so quiet and still that I can’t help but think they have faith in me. Without prompting, she slides the back of her hospital gown forward like a curtain, already taking deep breaths so I can hear her lungs.

I look outside. The streetlights are still on, and from the seventh-floor window, I can watch staff making their way through the sliding double-doors, just beyond the yellowed pools of streetlight. I smile. I love medicine. I’m so tired.

For many in medicine, we are treated, and thus behave, as though our ability to manipulate physiology should also apply within the borders of our bodies: commanding less sleep, food, or bathroom breaks.

It places health care workers solidly in the realm of superhuman, living beyond one’s corporeal needs. The pandemic only heightened this misappropriation – adding hero and setting out a pedestal for health care workers to make their ungainly ascent. This kind of unsolicited admiration implicitly implies inhumanness, an otherness.

What would it look like if we started treating ourselves less like physicians and more like patients? I wish I was offering a solution, but really this is just a story. Maybe it’s not more sleep you need but something just as critical to the delicate physiologic and psychological scales of well-being.

To students rising through the ranks of medical training, identify what it is you need early and often. I can count on one hand how many physicians I’ve seen take a lunch break – even 10 minutes. Embrace hard work and self-preservation equally. My hope is that if enough of us take this path, it just might become a matter of course.

Dr. Meffert is a resident in the department of emergency medicine, MedStar Georgetown University Hospital, Washington Hospital Center, Washington. Dr. Meffert disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Charcoal won’t let high-fat diet weigh you down

Do you want to be the funniest person alive? Of course you do. It’s really simple too, just one joke can make you the greatest comedian of all time. All you have to do is go camping and cook food over a roaring campfire. When someone drops food into the fire (which they always will), get ready. Once they fish out the offending food, which is almost certainly coated in hot coals, tell them: “Ah, eat it anyway. A little texture never hurt!” Trust us, most hilarious and original gag of all time.

But before your hapless friend brushes off his hot dog and forces a laugh, consider this: Japanese researchers have found that a charcoal supplement can prevent weight gain in mice consuming a high-fat diet. Charcoal is actually quite the helpful substance, and not just for grilling. It’s been used as medicine for hundreds of years and even today is used as a treatment for drug overdose and excess gas and flatulence.

PxHere

The study involved two groups of mice: One was fed a normal diet, the other a high-fat diet. After 12 weeks, the high-fat diet mice had gained weight. At that point, edible activated charcoal was added to their diet. From that point, weight gain was similar between the two groups, and the amount of bile acid, cholesterol, triglyceride, and fatty acid excreted by the high-fat mice increased by two to four times.

The researchers supported the notion that consuming an activated charcoal supplement before or while eating fatty food could prevent weight gain from said fatty food. Which works out well for the classic American barbecue, which is traditionally both high in fat and charcoal. All you have to do is buy some extra charcoal briquettes to pass around and munch on with your friends. Now that’s a party we can get behind.
 

There’s awake, and then there’s neurologically awake

Time to toss another urban legend onto the trash heap of history. Say goodbye to the benefits of uninterrupted sleep. It’s a fraud, a fake, a myth, a hit or myth, a swing and a myth, an old wives’ tale. You can stuff it and put it on a shelf next to Bigfoot, the Slender Man, and Twinkies.

JackF/thinkstockphotos.com

We all thought we needed 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep every night, but guess who we forgot to tell? Our brains. They’ve been doing exactly the opposite all along, laughing at us the whole time. Smug SOBs.

To straighten out this mess, let’s bring in a scientist, Celia Kjaerby of the Center for Translational Neuromedicine at the University of Copenhagen: “You may think that sleep is a constant state that you are in, and then you wake up. But there is a lot more to sleep than meets the eye. We have learned that noradrenaline causes you to wake up more than 100 times a night. And that is during perfectly normal sleep.”

Those 100 or so sleep interruptions are so brief that we don’t even notice, but they are very important, according to a study conducted at the university. Those tiny little wake-up calls are “the essence for the part of sleep that makes us wake up rested and which enables us to remember what we learned the day before. ... The very short awakenings are created by waves of norepinephrine [and they] reset the brain so that it is ready to store memory when you dive back into sleep,” lead author Maiken Nedergaard, MD, explained.

The investigators compared the level of noradrenaline in sleeping mice with their electrical activity and found that the hormone constantly increased and decreased in a wavelike pattern. A high level meant that the animal was neurologically awake. Deeper valleys between the high points meant better sleep, and the mice with the “highest number of deep noradrenaline valleys were also the ones with the best memory,” the team said in their written statement.

Not just the best memory, they said, but “super memory.” That, of course, was enough to get the attention of Marvel Comics, so the next Disney superhero blockbuster will feature Nocturna, the queen of the night. Her power? Never forgets. Her archnemesis? The Insomniac. Her catchphrase? “Let me sleep on it.”

Words can hurt, literally

Growing up, we’re sure you heard the “sticks and stones” rhyme. Maybe you’ve even recited it once or twice to defend yourself. Well, forget it, because words can hurt and your brain knows it.

PxHere

In a new study published in Frontiers in Communication, Marijn Struiksma, PhD, of Utrecht University, and colleagues incorporated the use of electroencephalography (EEG) and skin conductance on 79 women to see how words (specifically insults) actually affect the human body.

Each subject was asked to read three different types of statements: an insult, a compliment, and something factual but neutral. Half of the statements contained the subject’s name and half used somebody else’s. The participants were told that these statements were collected from three men.

Nobody interacted with each other, and the setting was completely clinical, yet the results were unmistakable. The EEG showed an effect in P2 amplitude with repetitive insults, no matter who it was about. Even though the insults weren’t real and the participants were aware of it, the brain still recognized them as hurtful, coming across as “mini slaps in the face,” Dr. Struiksma noted in a written statement.

The researchers noted that more needs to be done to better understand the long-term effects that insults can have and create a deeper understanding between words and emotion, but studying the effects of insults in a real-life setting is ethically tricky. This study is a start.

So, yeah, sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will actually hurt you.

This article was updated 7/21/22.

Charcoal won’t let high-fat diet weigh you down

Do you want to be the funniest person alive? Of course you do. It’s really simple too, just one joke can make you the greatest comedian of all time. All you have to do is go camping and cook food over a roaring campfire. When someone drops food into the fire (which they always will), get ready. Once they fish out the offending food, which is almost certainly coated in hot coals, tell them: “Ah, eat it anyway. A little texture never hurt!” Trust us, most hilarious and original gag of all time.

But before your hapless friend brushes off his hot dog and forces a laugh, consider this: Japanese researchers have found that a charcoal supplement can prevent weight gain in mice consuming a high-fat diet. Charcoal is actually quite the helpful substance, and not just for grilling. It’s been used as medicine for hundreds of years and even today is used as a treatment for drug overdose and excess gas and flatulence.

PxHere

The study involved two groups of mice: One was fed a normal diet, the other a high-fat diet. After 12 weeks, the high-fat diet mice had gained weight. At that point, edible activated charcoal was added to their diet. From that point, weight gain was similar between the two groups, and the amount of bile acid, cholesterol, triglyceride, and fatty acid excreted by the high-fat mice increased by two to four times.

The researchers supported the notion that consuming an activated charcoal supplement before or while eating fatty food could prevent weight gain from said fatty food. Which works out well for the classic American barbecue, which is traditionally both high in fat and charcoal. All you have to do is buy some extra charcoal briquettes to pass around and munch on with your friends. Now that’s a party we can get behind.
 

There’s awake, and then there’s neurologically awake

Time to toss another urban legend onto the trash heap of history. Say goodbye to the benefits of uninterrupted sleep. It’s a fraud, a fake, a myth, a hit or myth, a swing and a myth, an old wives’ tale. You can stuff it and put it on a shelf next to Bigfoot, the Slender Man, and Twinkies.

JackF/thinkstockphotos.com

We all thought we needed 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep every night, but guess who we forgot to tell? Our brains. They’ve been doing exactly the opposite all along, laughing at us the whole time. Smug SOBs.

To straighten out this mess, let’s bring in a scientist, Celia Kjaerby of the Center for Translational Neuromedicine at the University of Copenhagen: “You may think that sleep is a constant state that you are in, and then you wake up. But there is a lot more to sleep than meets the eye. We have learned that noradrenaline causes you to wake up more than 100 times a night. And that is during perfectly normal sleep.”

Those 100 or so sleep interruptions are so brief that we don’t even notice, but they are very important, according to a study conducted at the university. Those tiny little wake-up calls are “the essence for the part of sleep that makes us wake up rested and which enables us to remember what we learned the day before. ... The very short awakenings are created by waves of norepinephrine [and they] reset the brain so that it is ready to store memory when you dive back into sleep,” lead author Maiken Nedergaard, MD, explained.

The investigators compared the level of noradrenaline in sleeping mice with their electrical activity and found that the hormone constantly increased and decreased in a wavelike pattern. A high level meant that the animal was neurologically awake. Deeper valleys between the high points meant better sleep, and the mice with the “highest number of deep noradrenaline valleys were also the ones with the best memory,” the team said in their written statement.

Not just the best memory, they said, but “super memory.” That, of course, was enough to get the attention of Marvel Comics, so the next Disney superhero blockbuster will feature Nocturna, the queen of the night. Her power? Never forgets. Her archnemesis? The Insomniac. Her catchphrase? “Let me sleep on it.”

Words can hurt, literally

Growing up, we’re sure you heard the “sticks and stones” rhyme. Maybe you’ve even recited it once or twice to defend yourself. Well, forget it, because words can hurt and your brain knows it.

PxHere

In a new study published in Frontiers in Communication, Marijn Struiksma, PhD, of Utrecht University, and colleagues incorporated the use of electroencephalography (EEG) and skin conductance on 79 women to see how words (specifically insults) actually affect the human body.

Each subject was asked to read three different types of statements: an insult, a compliment, and something factual but neutral. Half of the statements contained the subject’s name and half used somebody else’s. The participants were told that these statements were collected from three men.

Nobody interacted with each other, and the setting was completely clinical, yet the results were unmistakable. The EEG showed an effect in P2 amplitude with repetitive insults, no matter who it was about. Even though the insults weren’t real and the participants were aware of it, the brain still recognized them as hurtful, coming across as “mini slaps in the face,” Dr. Struiksma noted in a written statement.

The researchers noted that more needs to be done to better understand the long-term effects that insults can have and create a deeper understanding between words and emotion, but studying the effects of insults in a real-life setting is ethically tricky. This study is a start.

So, yeah, sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will actually hurt you.

This article was updated 7/21/22.

Charcoal won’t let high-fat diet weigh you down

Do you want to be the funniest person alive? Of course you do. It’s really simple too, just one joke can make you the greatest comedian of all time. All you have to do is go camping and cook food over a roaring campfire. When someone drops food into the fire (which they always will), get ready. Once they fish out the offending food, which is almost certainly coated in hot coals, tell them: “Ah, eat it anyway. A little texture never hurt!” Trust us, most hilarious and original gag of all time.

But before your hapless friend brushes off his hot dog and forces a laugh, consider this: Japanese researchers have found that a charcoal supplement can prevent weight gain in mice consuming a high-fat diet. Charcoal is actually quite the helpful substance, and not just for grilling. It’s been used as medicine for hundreds of years and even today is used as a treatment for drug overdose and excess gas and flatulence.

PxHere

The study involved two groups of mice: One was fed a normal diet, the other a high-fat diet. After 12 weeks, the high-fat diet mice had gained weight. At that point, edible activated charcoal was added to their diet. From that point, weight gain was similar between the two groups, and the amount of bile acid, cholesterol, triglyceride, and fatty acid excreted by the high-fat mice increased by two to four times.

The researchers supported the notion that consuming an activated charcoal supplement before or while eating fatty food could prevent weight gain from said fatty food. Which works out well for the classic American barbecue, which is traditionally both high in fat and charcoal. All you have to do is buy some extra charcoal briquettes to pass around and munch on with your friends. Now that’s a party we can get behind.
 

There’s awake, and then there’s neurologically awake

Time to toss another urban legend onto the trash heap of history. Say goodbye to the benefits of uninterrupted sleep. It’s a fraud, a fake, a myth, a hit or myth, a swing and a myth, an old wives’ tale. You can stuff it and put it on a shelf next to Bigfoot, the Slender Man, and Twinkies.

JackF/thinkstockphotos.com

We all thought we needed 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep every night, but guess who we forgot to tell? Our brains. They’ve been doing exactly the opposite all along, laughing at us the whole time. Smug SOBs.

To straighten out this mess, let’s bring in a scientist, Celia Kjaerby of the Center for Translational Neuromedicine at the University of Copenhagen: “You may think that sleep is a constant state that you are in, and then you wake up. But there is a lot more to sleep than meets the eye. We have learned that noradrenaline causes you to wake up more than 100 times a night. And that is during perfectly normal sleep.”

Those 100 or so sleep interruptions are so brief that we don’t even notice, but they are very important, according to a study conducted at the university. Those tiny little wake-up calls are “the essence for the part of sleep that makes us wake up rested and which enables us to remember what we learned the day before. ... The very short awakenings are created by waves of norepinephrine [and they] reset the brain so that it is ready to store memory when you dive back into sleep,” lead author Maiken Nedergaard, MD, explained.

The investigators compared the level of noradrenaline in sleeping mice with their electrical activity and found that the hormone constantly increased and decreased in a wavelike pattern. A high level meant that the animal was neurologically awake. Deeper valleys between the high points meant better sleep, and the mice with the “highest number of deep noradrenaline valleys were also the ones with the best memory,” the team said in their written statement.

Not just the best memory, they said, but “super memory.” That, of course, was enough to get the attention of Marvel Comics, so the next Disney superhero blockbuster will feature Nocturna, the queen of the night. Her power? Never forgets. Her archnemesis? The Insomniac. Her catchphrase? “Let me sleep on it.”

Words can hurt, literally

Growing up, we’re sure you heard the “sticks and stones” rhyme. Maybe you’ve even recited it once or twice to defend yourself. Well, forget it, because words can hurt and your brain knows it.

PxHere

In a new study published in Frontiers in Communication, Marijn Struiksma, PhD, of Utrecht University, and colleagues incorporated the use of electroencephalography (EEG) and skin conductance on 79 women to see how words (specifically insults) actually affect the human body.

Each subject was asked to read three different types of statements: an insult, a compliment, and something factual but neutral. Half of the statements contained the subject’s name and half used somebody else’s. The participants were told that these statements were collected from three men.

Nobody interacted with each other, and the setting was completely clinical, yet the results were unmistakable. The EEG showed an effect in P2 amplitude with repetitive insults, no matter who it was about. Even though the insults weren’t real and the participants were aware of it, the brain still recognized them as hurtful, coming across as “mini slaps in the face,” Dr. Struiksma noted in a written statement.

The researchers noted that more needs to be done to better understand the long-term effects that insults can have and create a deeper understanding between words and emotion, but studying the effects of insults in a real-life setting is ethically tricky. This study is a start.

So, yeah, sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will actually hurt you.

This article was updated 7/21/22.

It is no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic resulted in widespread disruptions in health care services. While providers and resources were limited and many patients were apprehensive to present to health care settings out of concern of disease contraction, telehealth services did offer some relief.

Compared to other specialty care services, mental health care providers were well equipped to handle the expansion of telehealth services, as extensive treatment literature provides strong support for the use of psychotherapeutic interventions over telehealth mediums.¹ This holds true in the context of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), where an impressive literature supports the use of telehealth delivery for the gold-standard psychotherapeutic, exposure and response prevention (ERP).^2,3,4

Through ERP, patients work with a clinician to systematically expose themselves to anxiety-providing triggers while actively resisting compulsive behaviors to learn the distress does go away with time and/or the distress is within their ability to cope. This intervention is conceptually similar to repeatedly watching a scary film, by which continued exposure results in less pronounced emotional reaction with subsequent viewings.

Fortunately for patients and providers, the expansion of telehealth ERP across different treatment settings has had many unintended benefits, including increased access to care, lower no-show rates due to the ease of attending appointments, and the ability to offer higher levels of care, including intensive outpatient programs, over telehealth mediums. Anecdotally, our clinic has been able to increase patient reach by providing telehealth ERP to those who historically would not have been able to access care due to geography. Even for those living within driving distance to our clinic, the ease of joining a video visit for a 45-minute appointment far outweighs driving into the clinic, in many circumstances. With these benefits, the delivery of ERP over telehealth appears likely to stay, although OCD providers delivering ERP will need to consider when and for whom this medium may not be appropriate.

To this end, we recently conducted a study examining ERP providers perceptions of telehealth and in-person ERP, patient characteristics best suited for telehealth services, and provider ability to identify and address factors that adversely impact the course of treatment (e.g., substance use, limited symptom insight, distractions during ERP, etc.).⁵ Providers reported lower feasibility ratings for telehealth compared to in-person ERP for younger patients (aged under 13 years), and patients with more severe OCD presentations. Providers also reported more difficulty identifying and addressing ERP interfering factors over telehealth relative to in-person. The findings from our research do not necessarily speak to the effectiveness of telehealth ERP, which has repeatedly been documented in treatment literature, but rather our findings highlight that ERP providers endorse reservations about the feasibility of ERP for certain OCD patient profiles, and that telehealth ERP may not be appropriate for all patients with OCD.

Mental health care providers, including those delivering ERP, should consider when telehealth is and is not appropriate. Importantly, telehealth offers a limited field of view compared to in-person, and providers can only observe what is captured by the camera. In the context of telehealth ERP, patients may engage in subtle avoidant behaviors that are more difficult to observe, which may prevent them from experiencing necessary anxiety during exposure practice. Many providers may have firsthand experience with this, or patients who appear distracted over telehealth mediums because of environmental factors that can be controlled for during in-person services.

As telehealth treatment options appear increasingly likely to stay, ERP providers and intervention researchers should continue identifying patient characteristics that are more and less appropriate for telehealth settings in order to maximize treatment outcomes. Providers should share concerns with patients when delivering telehealth ERP and work to address interfering factors impacting the course of treatment. In circumstances where this is not possible, such as when the patients age or symptom severity prevents effective telehealth ERP, or when treatment progress stalls, providers should speak with patients to determine if it would be beneficial to transition to in-person services.

Both in-person and telehealth ERP are fundamentally the same, however it does appear that subtle differences across these modalities may have differential impacts on treatment outcomes for certain OCD patient presentations. Telehealth ERP, and more broadly telehealth psychotherapy, offers many benefits for patients and providers, however appropriate caution should be exhibited, and providers should use clinical judgment when offering telehealth services.

Dr. Wiese is a clinical psychologist in the department of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, Texas. He is primarily focused on conducting research on OCD and related disorders and providing empirically supported treatments to individuals diagnosed with these conditions.

References

1. Fernandez E et al. Live psychotherapy by video versus in‐person: A meta‐analysis of efficacy and its relationship to types and targets of treatment. Clin Psychol Psychother. 2021 Nov;28(6):1535-49. doi: 10.1002/cpp.2594.

2. Storch EA et al. Preliminary investigation of web-camera delivered cognitive-behavioral therapy for youth with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Psychiatry Res. 2011 Oct 30;189(3):407-12. doi: 10.1016/j.psychres.2011.05.047.

3. Fletcher TL et al. A pilot open trial of video telehealth-delivered exposure and response prevention for obsessive-compulsive disorder in rural Veterans. Mil Psychol. 2021 Oct 28;34(1):83-90. doi: 10.1080/08995605.2021.1970983.

4. Wootton BM. Remote cognitive–behavior therapy for obsessive–compulsive symptoms: a meta-analysis. Clin Psychol Rev. 2016 Feb;43:103-13. doi: 10.1016/j.cpr.2015.10.001.

5. Wiese AD et al. Provider perceptions of telehealth and in-person exposure and response prevention for obsessive–compulsive disorder. Psychiatry Res. 2022 Jul;313:114610. doi: 10.1016/j.psychres.2022.114610.

It is no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic resulted in widespread disruptions in health care services. While providers and resources were limited and many patients were apprehensive to present to health care settings out of concern of disease contraction, telehealth services did offer some relief.

Compared to other specialty care services, mental health care providers were well equipped to handle the expansion of telehealth services, as extensive treatment literature provides strong support for the use of psychotherapeutic interventions over telehealth mediums.¹ This holds true in the context of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), where an impressive literature supports the use of telehealth delivery for the gold-standard psychotherapeutic, exposure and response prevention (ERP).^2,3,4

Through ERP, patients work with a clinician to systematically expose themselves to anxiety-providing triggers while actively resisting compulsive behaviors to learn the distress does go away with time and/or the distress is within their ability to cope. This intervention is conceptually similar to repeatedly watching a scary film, by which continued exposure results in less pronounced emotional reaction with subsequent viewings.

Fortunately for patients and providers, the expansion of telehealth ERP across different treatment settings has had many unintended benefits, including increased access to care, lower no-show rates due to the ease of attending appointments, and the ability to offer higher levels of care, including intensive outpatient programs, over telehealth mediums. Anecdotally, our clinic has been able to increase patient reach by providing telehealth ERP to those who historically would not have been able to access care due to geography. Even for those living within driving distance to our clinic, the ease of joining a video visit for a 45-minute appointment far outweighs driving into the clinic, in many circumstances. With these benefits, the delivery of ERP over telehealth appears likely to stay, although OCD providers delivering ERP will need to consider when and for whom this medium may not be appropriate.

To this end, we recently conducted a study examining ERP providers perceptions of telehealth and in-person ERP, patient characteristics best suited for telehealth services, and provider ability to identify and address factors that adversely impact the course of treatment (e.g., substance use, limited symptom insight, distractions during ERP, etc.).⁵ Providers reported lower feasibility ratings for telehealth compared to in-person ERP for younger patients (aged under 13 years), and patients with more severe OCD presentations. Providers also reported more difficulty identifying and addressing ERP interfering factors over telehealth relative to in-person. The findings from our research do not necessarily speak to the effectiveness of telehealth ERP, which has repeatedly been documented in treatment literature, but rather our findings highlight that ERP providers endorse reservations about the feasibility of ERP for certain OCD patient profiles, and that telehealth ERP may not be appropriate for all patients with OCD.

Mental health care providers, including those delivering ERP, should consider when telehealth is and is not appropriate. Importantly, telehealth offers a limited field of view compared to in-person, and providers can only observe what is captured by the camera. In the context of telehealth ERP, patients may engage in subtle avoidant behaviors that are more difficult to observe, which may prevent them from experiencing necessary anxiety during exposure practice. Many providers may have firsthand experience with this, or patients who appear distracted over telehealth mediums because of environmental factors that can be controlled for during in-person services.

As telehealth treatment options appear increasingly likely to stay, ERP providers and intervention researchers should continue identifying patient characteristics that are more and less appropriate for telehealth settings in order to maximize treatment outcomes. Providers should share concerns with patients when delivering telehealth ERP and work to address interfering factors impacting the course of treatment. In circumstances where this is not possible, such as when the patients age or symptom severity prevents effective telehealth ERP, or when treatment progress stalls, providers should speak with patients to determine if it would be beneficial to transition to in-person services.

Both in-person and telehealth ERP are fundamentally the same, however it does appear that subtle differences across these modalities may have differential impacts on treatment outcomes for certain OCD patient presentations. Telehealth ERP, and more broadly telehealth psychotherapy, offers many benefits for patients and providers, however appropriate caution should be exhibited, and providers should use clinical judgment when offering telehealth services.

Dr. Wiese is a clinical psychologist in the department of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, Texas. He is primarily focused on conducting research on OCD and related disorders and providing empirically supported treatments to individuals diagnosed with these conditions.

References

1. Fernandez E et al. Live psychotherapy by video versus in‐person: A meta‐analysis of efficacy and its relationship to types and targets of treatment. Clin Psychol Psychother. 2021 Nov;28(6):1535-49. doi: 10.1002/cpp.2594.

2. Storch EA et al. Preliminary investigation of web-camera delivered cognitive-behavioral therapy for youth with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Psychiatry Res. 2011 Oct 30;189(3):407-12. doi: 10.1016/j.psychres.2011.05.047.

3. Fletcher TL et al. A pilot open trial of video telehealth-delivered exposure and response prevention for obsessive-compulsive disorder in rural Veterans. Mil Psychol. 2021 Oct 28;34(1):83-90. doi: 10.1080/08995605.2021.1970983.

4. Wootton BM. Remote cognitive–behavior therapy for obsessive–compulsive symptoms: a meta-analysis. Clin Psychol Rev. 2016 Feb;43:103-13. doi: 10.1016/j.cpr.2015.10.001.

5. Wiese AD et al. Provider perceptions of telehealth and in-person exposure and response prevention for obsessive–compulsive disorder. Psychiatry Res. 2022 Jul;313:114610. doi: 10.1016/j.psychres.2022.114610.

It is no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic resulted in widespread disruptions in health care services. While providers and resources were limited and many patients were apprehensive to present to health care settings out of concern of disease contraction, telehealth services did offer some relief.

Compared to other specialty care services, mental health care providers were well equipped to handle the expansion of telehealth services, as extensive treatment literature provides strong support for the use of psychotherapeutic interventions over telehealth mediums.¹ This holds true in the context of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), where an impressive literature supports the use of telehealth delivery for the gold-standard psychotherapeutic, exposure and response prevention (ERP).^2,3,4

Through ERP, patients work with a clinician to systematically expose themselves to anxiety-providing triggers while actively resisting compulsive behaviors to learn the distress does go away with time and/or the distress is within their ability to cope. This intervention is conceptually similar to repeatedly watching a scary film, by which continued exposure results in less pronounced emotional reaction with subsequent viewings.

Fortunately for patients and providers, the expansion of telehealth ERP across different treatment settings has had many unintended benefits, including increased access to care, lower no-show rates due to the ease of attending appointments, and the ability to offer higher levels of care, including intensive outpatient programs, over telehealth mediums. Anecdotally, our clinic has been able to increase patient reach by providing telehealth ERP to those who historically would not have been able to access care due to geography. Even for those living within driving distance to our clinic, the ease of joining a video visit for a 45-minute appointment far outweighs driving into the clinic, in many circumstances. With these benefits, the delivery of ERP over telehealth appears likely to stay, although OCD providers delivering ERP will need to consider when and for whom this medium may not be appropriate.

To this end, we recently conducted a study examining ERP providers perceptions of telehealth and in-person ERP, patient characteristics best suited for telehealth services, and provider ability to identify and address factors that adversely impact the course of treatment (e.g., substance use, limited symptom insight, distractions during ERP, etc.).⁵ Providers reported lower feasibility ratings for telehealth compared to in-person ERP for younger patients (aged under 13 years), and patients with more severe OCD presentations. Providers also reported more difficulty identifying and addressing ERP interfering factors over telehealth relative to in-person. The findings from our research do not necessarily speak to the effectiveness of telehealth ERP, which has repeatedly been documented in treatment literature, but rather our findings highlight that ERP providers endorse reservations about the feasibility of ERP for certain OCD patient profiles, and that telehealth ERP may not be appropriate for all patients with OCD.

Mental health care providers, including those delivering ERP, should consider when telehealth is and is not appropriate. Importantly, telehealth offers a limited field of view compared to in-person, and providers can only observe what is captured by the camera. In the context of telehealth ERP, patients may engage in subtle avoidant behaviors that are more difficult to observe, which may prevent them from experiencing necessary anxiety during exposure practice. Many providers may have firsthand experience with this, or patients who appear distracted over telehealth mediums because of environmental factors that can be controlled for during in-person services.

As telehealth treatment options appear increasingly likely to stay, ERP providers and intervention researchers should continue identifying patient characteristics that are more and less appropriate for telehealth settings in order to maximize treatment outcomes. Providers should share concerns with patients when delivering telehealth ERP and work to address interfering factors impacting the course of treatment. In circumstances where this is not possible, such as when the patients age or symptom severity prevents effective telehealth ERP, or when treatment progress stalls, providers should speak with patients to determine if it would be beneficial to transition to in-person services.

Both in-person and telehealth ERP are fundamentally the same, however it does appear that subtle differences across these modalities may have differential impacts on treatment outcomes for certain OCD patient presentations. Telehealth ERP, and more broadly telehealth psychotherapy, offers many benefits for patients and providers, however appropriate caution should be exhibited, and providers should use clinical judgment when offering telehealth services.

Dr. Wiese is a clinical psychologist in the department of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, Texas. He is primarily focused on conducting research on OCD and related disorders and providing empirically supported treatments to individuals diagnosed with these conditions.

References

1. Fernandez E et al. Live psychotherapy by video versus in‐person: A meta‐analysis of efficacy and its relationship to types and targets of treatment. Clin Psychol Psychother. 2021 Nov;28(6):1535-49. doi: 10.1002/cpp.2594.

2. Storch EA et al. Preliminary investigation of web-camera delivered cognitive-behavioral therapy for youth with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Psychiatry Res. 2011 Oct 30;189(3):407-12. doi: 10.1016/j.psychres.2011.05.047.

3. Fletcher TL et al. A pilot open trial of video telehealth-delivered exposure and response prevention for obsessive-compulsive disorder in rural Veterans. Mil Psychol. 2021 Oct 28;34(1):83-90. doi: 10.1080/08995605.2021.1970983.

4. Wootton BM. Remote cognitive–behavior therapy for obsessive–compulsive symptoms: a meta-analysis. Clin Psychol Rev. 2016 Feb;43:103-13. doi: 10.1016/j.cpr.2015.10.001.

5. Wiese AD et al. Provider perceptions of telehealth and in-person exposure and response prevention for obsessive–compulsive disorder. Psychiatry Res. 2022 Jul;313:114610. doi: 10.1016/j.psychres.2022.114610.

The number of overdose deaths involving methadone decreased after the implementation of an early-pandemic policy that allowed some patients with opioid use disorder (OUD) to take methadone at home, new research shows.

Overdose deaths both with and without methadone rose sharply in March 2020, when the policy was announced. Of note, methadone-related deaths decreased in the following months, whereas deaths not involving methadone continued to increase.

“Coupled with research demonstrating improved patient satisfaction, treatment access, and engagement from these policies, these findings can inform decisions about permanently expanding take-home methadone,” the investigators wrote.

The study was published online in JAMA Psychiatry.
 

An essential tool

Before the pandemic, patients seeking methadone treatment for OUD in the United States had to visit a federally certified opioid treatment clinic every day to receive the medication.

In response to the pandemic, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration instituted a new policy that allowed states to request exceptions to provide take-home methadone for up to 4 weeks for stable patients and up to 2 weeks for those who were less stable.

To determine the effect of this policy change on overdose death rates, researchers analyzed data on overdose deaths from January 2019 to August 2021.

Overall, the percentage of deaths involving methadone decreased from 4.5% in 2019 to 3.2% in 2021.

The investigators found a sharp increase in all overdose deaths in March 2020. Deaths that did not involve methadone increased by an average of 78.12 more each month before March 2020, increased by an average of 1,078.27 during March 2020, and then continued to increase by an average of 69.07 more each month after March 2020.

Overdose deaths involving methadone increased by a similar amount in March 2020, stabilized, and then decreased 0.05% per month.

Researchers attributed the increase in methadone-related deaths in March 2020 with the rise in overall drug overdose deaths driven by illicitly made fentanyl in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic.

A study published in JAMA Network Open in March 2022 showed that methadone and other medications to treat OUD are widely underutilized.

That research cited concern over misuse as a key reason for clinicians’ reluctance to prescribe the drugs. The researchers of the current study hope that these new findings lay some of these fears to rest.

“Treatment is an essential tool to stop the addiction and overdose crises, but it is vastly underused,” Nora Volkow, MD, coinvestigator, and director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse, said in a press release. “This evidence adds significant weight to the argument that effective treatment for substance use disorders should be offered in an accessible and practical way that works for people who need it.”

The study was funded by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health. The authors reported no relevant disclosures related to the study.

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

The number of overdose deaths involving methadone decreased after the implementation of an early-pandemic policy that allowed some patients with opioid use disorder (OUD) to take methadone at home, new research shows.

Overdose deaths both with and without methadone rose sharply in March 2020, when the policy was announced. Of note, methadone-related deaths decreased in the following months, whereas deaths not involving methadone continued to increase.

“Coupled with research demonstrating improved patient satisfaction, treatment access, and engagement from these policies, these findings can inform decisions about permanently expanding take-home methadone,” the investigators wrote.

The study was published online in JAMA Psychiatry.
 

An essential tool

Before the pandemic, patients seeking methadone treatment for OUD in the United States had to visit a federally certified opioid treatment clinic every day to receive the medication.

In response to the pandemic, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration instituted a new policy that allowed states to request exceptions to provide take-home methadone for up to 4 weeks for stable patients and up to 2 weeks for those who were less stable.

To determine the effect of this policy change on overdose death rates, researchers analyzed data on overdose deaths from January 2019 to August 2021.

Overall, the percentage of deaths involving methadone decreased from 4.5% in 2019 to 3.2% in 2021.

The investigators found a sharp increase in all overdose deaths in March 2020. Deaths that did not involve methadone increased by an average of 78.12 more each month before March 2020, increased by an average of 1,078.27 during March 2020, and then continued to increase by an average of 69.07 more each month after March 2020.

Overdose deaths involving methadone increased by a similar amount in March 2020, stabilized, and then decreased 0.05% per month.

Researchers attributed the increase in methadone-related deaths in March 2020 with the rise in overall drug overdose deaths driven by illicitly made fentanyl in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic.

A study published in JAMA Network Open in March 2022 showed that methadone and other medications to treat OUD are widely underutilized.

That research cited concern over misuse as a key reason for clinicians’ reluctance to prescribe the drugs. The researchers of the current study hope that these new findings lay some of these fears to rest.

“Treatment is an essential tool to stop the addiction and overdose crises, but it is vastly underused,” Nora Volkow, MD, coinvestigator, and director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse, said in a press release. “This evidence adds significant weight to the argument that effective treatment for substance use disorders should be offered in an accessible and practical way that works for people who need it.”

The study was funded by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health. The authors reported no relevant disclosures related to the study.

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

The number of overdose deaths involving methadone decreased after the implementation of an early-pandemic policy that allowed some patients with opioid use disorder (OUD) to take methadone at home, new research shows.

Overdose deaths both with and without methadone rose sharply in March 2020, when the policy was announced. Of note, methadone-related deaths decreased in the following months, whereas deaths not involving methadone continued to increase.

“Coupled with research demonstrating improved patient satisfaction, treatment access, and engagement from these policies, these findings can inform decisions about permanently expanding take-home methadone,” the investigators wrote.

The study was published online in JAMA Psychiatry.
 

An essential tool

Before the pandemic, patients seeking methadone treatment for OUD in the United States had to visit a federally certified opioid treatment clinic every day to receive the medication.

In response to the pandemic, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration instituted a new policy that allowed states to request exceptions to provide take-home methadone for up to 4 weeks for stable patients and up to 2 weeks for those who were less stable.

To determine the effect of this policy change on overdose death rates, researchers analyzed data on overdose deaths from January 2019 to August 2021.

Overall, the percentage of deaths involving methadone decreased from 4.5% in 2019 to 3.2% in 2021.

The investigators found a sharp increase in all overdose deaths in March 2020. Deaths that did not involve methadone increased by an average of 78.12 more each month before March 2020, increased by an average of 1,078.27 during March 2020, and then continued to increase by an average of 69.07 more each month after March 2020.

Overdose deaths involving methadone increased by a similar amount in March 2020, stabilized, and then decreased 0.05% per month.

Researchers attributed the increase in methadone-related deaths in March 2020 with the rise in overall drug overdose deaths driven by illicitly made fentanyl in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic.

A study published in JAMA Network Open in March 2022 showed that methadone and other medications to treat OUD are widely underutilized.

That research cited concern over misuse as a key reason for clinicians’ reluctance to prescribe the drugs. The researchers of the current study hope that these new findings lay some of these fears to rest.

“Treatment is an essential tool to stop the addiction and overdose crises, but it is vastly underused,” Nora Volkow, MD, coinvestigator, and director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse, said in a press release. “This evidence adds significant weight to the argument that effective treatment for substance use disorders should be offered in an accessible and practical way that works for people who need it.”

The study was funded by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health. The authors reported no relevant disclosures related to the study.

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

Across the globe few individuals at risk for gambling problems seek help for the issue, new research shows.

In the first study to examine global prevalence of help-seeking for problem gambling, the systematic review showed that only 1 in 5 of those with problem gambling, and 1 in 25 of those at moderate risk for gambling problems have sought help.

“Our findings suggest a considerable need for help among those experiencing problems related to their gambling,” Rimke Bijker, PhD, of the University of Auckland (New Zealand) and colleagues wrote.

Digital Vision/ThinkStockPhotos

The findings were published online in Addiction.
 

A public health concern

An increase in online gambling and stress and isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic led to experts sounding the alarm about gambling disorders. But despite its emergence as a public health concern, systematic investigation of help-seeking for problem gambling has been lacking, the investigators noted.

In their review, they included 24 studies conducted between 2010 and 2020 and involving a total of 188,234 individuals. More than 70% of the studies were conducted in Australia and New Zealand and 25% were conducted in the United States and Canada.

The overall prevalence of help-seeking for problem gambling among adults worldwide was 0.23% (95% confidence interval, 0.16-0.33).

Prevalence estimates were significantly higher in studies assessing lifetime help-seeking (0.50%; 95% CI, 0.35-0.71), compared with studies that examined current help-seeking (0.14%; 95% CI, 0.1-0.2, P < .001).

There were no significant differences in prevalence by gambling participation, region, type of help-seeking (professional only or mixed options), or year of data collection.

Gambling severity was measured by the Problem Gambling Severity Index as low risk, as moderate risk, or as problem gambling. Help-seeking was highest in the problem gambling and the moderate-risk groups, compared with the low-risk group (20.63%, 3.73%, and 0.27%, respectively; P < .001).

“A public health approach to gambling problems should be grounded in robust evidence on what people currently do to minimize and reduce their gambling harm and this should be inclusive of professional and nonprofessional support and self-help,” the investigators wrote.

Around 40% of individuals with problem gambling recover with or without professional oversight, they added.

Historically, gambling interventions have focused on those with more severe gambling problems. To truly address the issue, gambling reduction efforts should consider individuals with problems across the full continuum of risk, including those experiencing less severe problem gambling, the researchers wrote.

They added that those with more severe gambling issues “are likely to have comorbidities and may require more intensive interventions, guided by professionals,” such as general practitioners, psychiatrists, or psychologists.

Those with a less severe form “may prefer non-professional options and self-help strategies, which highlights the importance of information on such sources of help being promoted and easily accessible,” the investigators wrote.

No funding source for the study was reported. The authors reported no relevant financial relationships.

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

Across the globe few individuals at risk for gambling problems seek help for the issue, new research shows.

In the first study to examine global prevalence of help-seeking for problem gambling, the systematic review showed that only 1 in 5 of those with problem gambling, and 1 in 25 of those at moderate risk for gambling problems have sought help.

“Our findings suggest a considerable need for help among those experiencing problems related to their gambling,” Rimke Bijker, PhD, of the University of Auckland (New Zealand) and colleagues wrote.

Digital Vision/ThinkStockPhotos

The findings were published online in Addiction.
 

A public health concern

An increase in online gambling and stress and isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic led to experts sounding the alarm about gambling disorders. But despite its emergence as a public health concern, systematic investigation of help-seeking for problem gambling has been lacking, the investigators noted.

In their review, they included 24 studies conducted between 2010 and 2020 and involving a total of 188,234 individuals. More than 70% of the studies were conducted in Australia and New Zealand and 25% were conducted in the United States and Canada.

The overall prevalence of help-seeking for problem gambling among adults worldwide was 0.23% (95% confidence interval, 0.16-0.33).

Prevalence estimates were significantly higher in studies assessing lifetime help-seeking (0.50%; 95% CI, 0.35-0.71), compared with studies that examined current help-seeking (0.14%; 95% CI, 0.1-0.2, P < .001).

There were no significant differences in prevalence by gambling participation, region, type of help-seeking (professional only or mixed options), or year of data collection.

Gambling severity was measured by the Problem Gambling Severity Index as low risk, as moderate risk, or as problem gambling. Help-seeking was highest in the problem gambling and the moderate-risk groups, compared with the low-risk group (20.63%, 3.73%, and 0.27%, respectively; P < .001).

“A public health approach to gambling problems should be grounded in robust evidence on what people currently do to minimize and reduce their gambling harm and this should be inclusive of professional and nonprofessional support and self-help,” the investigators wrote.

Around 40% of individuals with problem gambling recover with or without professional oversight, they added.

Historically, gambling interventions have focused on those with more severe gambling problems. To truly address the issue, gambling reduction efforts should consider individuals with problems across the full continuum of risk, including those experiencing less severe problem gambling, the researchers wrote.

They added that those with more severe gambling issues “are likely to have comorbidities and may require more intensive interventions, guided by professionals,” such as general practitioners, psychiatrists, or psychologists.

Those with a less severe form “may prefer non-professional options and self-help strategies, which highlights the importance of information on such sources of help being promoted and easily accessible,” the investigators wrote.

No funding source for the study was reported. The authors reported no relevant financial relationships.

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

Across the globe few individuals at risk for gambling problems seek help for the issue, new research shows.

In the first study to examine global prevalence of help-seeking for problem gambling, the systematic review showed that only 1 in 5 of those with problem gambling, and 1 in 25 of those at moderate risk for gambling problems have sought help.

“Our findings suggest a considerable need for help among those experiencing problems related to their gambling,” Rimke Bijker, PhD, of the University of Auckland (New Zealand) and colleagues wrote.

Digital Vision/ThinkStockPhotos

The findings were published online in Addiction.
 

A public health concern

An increase in online gambling and stress and isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic led to experts sounding the alarm about gambling disorders. But despite its emergence as a public health concern, systematic investigation of help-seeking for problem gambling has been lacking, the investigators noted.

In their review, they included 24 studies conducted between 2010 and 2020 and involving a total of 188,234 individuals. More than 70% of the studies were conducted in Australia and New Zealand and 25% were conducted in the United States and Canada.

The overall prevalence of help-seeking for problem gambling among adults worldwide was 0.23% (95% confidence interval, 0.16-0.33).

Prevalence estimates were significantly higher in studies assessing lifetime help-seeking (0.50%; 95% CI, 0.35-0.71), compared with studies that examined current help-seeking (0.14%; 95% CI, 0.1-0.2, P < .001).

There were no significant differences in prevalence by gambling participation, region, type of help-seeking (professional only or mixed options), or year of data collection.

Gambling severity was measured by the Problem Gambling Severity Index as low risk, as moderate risk, or as problem gambling. Help-seeking was highest in the problem gambling and the moderate-risk groups, compared with the low-risk group (20.63%, 3.73%, and 0.27%, respectively; P < .001).

“A public health approach to gambling problems should be grounded in robust evidence on what people currently do to minimize and reduce their gambling harm and this should be inclusive of professional and nonprofessional support and self-help,” the investigators wrote.

Around 40% of individuals with problem gambling recover with or without professional oversight, they added.

Historically, gambling interventions have focused on those with more severe gambling problems. To truly address the issue, gambling reduction efforts should consider individuals with problems across the full continuum of risk, including those experiencing less severe problem gambling, the researchers wrote.

They added that those with more severe gambling issues “are likely to have comorbidities and may require more intensive interventions, guided by professionals,” such as general practitioners, psychiatrists, or psychologists.

Those with a less severe form “may prefer non-professional options and self-help strategies, which highlights the importance of information on such sources of help being promoted and easily accessible,” the investigators wrote.

No funding source for the study was reported. The authors reported no relevant financial relationships.

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