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Hunt, gather, and turn on the Keurig
I’m a creature of habit. I suspect most of us are.
One can of Diet Coke on the drive to my office. Turn on the WiFi and air conditioning. Fire up the computer and unload my briefcase. Then do online refills, check the Astronomy Picture of the Day, look over the day’s schedule, turn on the Keurig, and make one cup of coffee. And so on.
I’m sure most of us have similar routines. Our brains are probably wired that way for survival, though the reasons aren’t the same anymore. Once it was get up, look outside the cave for predators, make sure the tribe is all accounted for, go to the stream for water, look for berries.
The fact is that automatic habits are critical for everything we do. Driving a car is really a series of repetitive tasks. Being able to put most of the ride on our brain’s autopilot allows us to move our attention to scanning the surroundings for changes, and to think about other items such as wonder what to do for dinner and if I remembered to turn off theWiFi and Keurig.
The practice of medicine is similar. Some things are internalized. Watching patients walk back to my office, looking at their hands as they fill out forms, hearing them introduce themselves, and other things that we subconsciously process as part of the exam before we’ve even officially begun the appointment. I quietly file such things away to be used later in the visit.
It certainly wasn’t always that way. In training we learn to filter out signal from noise, because the information available is huge. We all read tests of some sort. When I began reading EEGs, the images and lines were overwhelming, but with time and experience I became skilled at whittling down the mass of information into the things that really needed to be noted so I could turn pages faster (yes, youngsters, EEGs used to be on paper). Now, scanning the screen becomes a background habit, with the brain focusing more on things that stand out (or going back to thinking about what to do for dinner).
The brain in this way is the ultimate Swiss Army Knife – many tools available, but how we adapt and use them for our individual needs is variable.
Which is pretty impressive, actually. In the era of AI and computers, we each come with a (roughly) 2.5-petabyte hard drive that’s not only capable of storing all that information, but figuring out how to use it when we need to. The process is so smooth that we’re rarely aware of it. But what a marvel it is.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
I’m a creature of habit. I suspect most of us are.
One can of Diet Coke on the drive to my office. Turn on the WiFi and air conditioning. Fire up the computer and unload my briefcase. Then do online refills, check the Astronomy Picture of the Day, look over the day’s schedule, turn on the Keurig, and make one cup of coffee. And so on.
I’m sure most of us have similar routines. Our brains are probably wired that way for survival, though the reasons aren’t the same anymore. Once it was get up, look outside the cave for predators, make sure the tribe is all accounted for, go to the stream for water, look for berries.
The fact is that automatic habits are critical for everything we do. Driving a car is really a series of repetitive tasks. Being able to put most of the ride on our brain’s autopilot allows us to move our attention to scanning the surroundings for changes, and to think about other items such as wonder what to do for dinner and if I remembered to turn off theWiFi and Keurig.
The practice of medicine is similar. Some things are internalized. Watching patients walk back to my office, looking at their hands as they fill out forms, hearing them introduce themselves, and other things that we subconsciously process as part of the exam before we’ve even officially begun the appointment. I quietly file such things away to be used later in the visit.
It certainly wasn’t always that way. In training we learn to filter out signal from noise, because the information available is huge. We all read tests of some sort. When I began reading EEGs, the images and lines were overwhelming, but with time and experience I became skilled at whittling down the mass of information into the things that really needed to be noted so I could turn pages faster (yes, youngsters, EEGs used to be on paper). Now, scanning the screen becomes a background habit, with the brain focusing more on things that stand out (or going back to thinking about what to do for dinner).
The brain in this way is the ultimate Swiss Army Knife – many tools available, but how we adapt and use them for our individual needs is variable.
Which is pretty impressive, actually. In the era of AI and computers, we each come with a (roughly) 2.5-petabyte hard drive that’s not only capable of storing all that information, but figuring out how to use it when we need to. The process is so smooth that we’re rarely aware of it. But what a marvel it is.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
I’m a creature of habit. I suspect most of us are.
One can of Diet Coke on the drive to my office. Turn on the WiFi and air conditioning. Fire up the computer and unload my briefcase. Then do online refills, check the Astronomy Picture of the Day, look over the day’s schedule, turn on the Keurig, and make one cup of coffee. And so on.
I’m sure most of us have similar routines. Our brains are probably wired that way for survival, though the reasons aren’t the same anymore. Once it was get up, look outside the cave for predators, make sure the tribe is all accounted for, go to the stream for water, look for berries.
The fact is that automatic habits are critical for everything we do. Driving a car is really a series of repetitive tasks. Being able to put most of the ride on our brain’s autopilot allows us to move our attention to scanning the surroundings for changes, and to think about other items such as wonder what to do for dinner and if I remembered to turn off theWiFi and Keurig.
The practice of medicine is similar. Some things are internalized. Watching patients walk back to my office, looking at their hands as they fill out forms, hearing them introduce themselves, and other things that we subconsciously process as part of the exam before we’ve even officially begun the appointment. I quietly file such things away to be used later in the visit.
It certainly wasn’t always that way. In training we learn to filter out signal from noise, because the information available is huge. We all read tests of some sort. When I began reading EEGs, the images and lines were overwhelming, but with time and experience I became skilled at whittling down the mass of information into the things that really needed to be noted so I could turn pages faster (yes, youngsters, EEGs used to be on paper). Now, scanning the screen becomes a background habit, with the brain focusing more on things that stand out (or going back to thinking about what to do for dinner).
The brain in this way is the ultimate Swiss Army Knife – many tools available, but how we adapt and use them for our individual needs is variable.
Which is pretty impressive, actually. In the era of AI and computers, we each come with a (roughly) 2.5-petabyte hard drive that’s not only capable of storing all that information, but figuring out how to use it when we need to. The process is so smooth that we’re rarely aware of it. But what a marvel it is.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
The safety of vaginal estrogen in breast cancer survivors
Currently, more than 3.8 million breast cancer survivors reside in the United States, reflecting high prevalence as well as cure rates for this common malignancy.
When over-the-counter measures including vaginal lubricants and moisturizers are not adequate, vaginal estrogen may be a highly effective treatment for genitourinary syndrome of menopause (GSM), a common condition associated with hypoestrogenism that impairs sexual function and quality of life.
Use of vaginal formulations does not result in systemic levels of estrogen above the normal postmenopausal range. Nonetheless, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration lists a history of breast cancer as a contraindication to the use of all systemic as well as vaginal estrogens.
In premenopausal women, chemotherapy for breast cancer often results in early menopause. Aromatase inhibitors, although effective in preventing recurrent disease in menopausal women, exacerbate GSM. These factors result in a high prevalence of GSM in breast cancer survivors.
Because the safety of vaginal estrogen in the setting of breast cancer is uncertain, investigators at Johns Hopkins conducted a cohort study using claims-based data from more than 200 million U.S. patients that identified women with GSM who had previously been diagnosed with breast cancer. Among some 42,000 women diagnosed with GSM after breast cancer, 5% had three or more prescriptions and were considered vaginal estrogen users.
No significant differences were noted in recurrence-free survival between the vaginal estrogen group and the no estrogen group. At 5 and 10 years of follow-up, use of vaginal estrogen was not associated with higher all-cause mortality. Among women with estrogen receptor–positive tumors, risk for breast cancer recurrence was similar between estrogen users and nonusers.
However, concomitant use of vaginal estrogen and aromatase inhibitors was associated with a higher risk for breast cancer recurrence than was use of vaginal estrogen alone.
Although this important study’s findings have the limitations characteristic of observational studies, its large size and careful analyses suggest that
Dr. Kaunitz is associate chairman, department of obstetrics and gynecology, University of Florida College of Medicine, Jacksonville. This transcript has been edited for clarity. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Currently, more than 3.8 million breast cancer survivors reside in the United States, reflecting high prevalence as well as cure rates for this common malignancy.
When over-the-counter measures including vaginal lubricants and moisturizers are not adequate, vaginal estrogen may be a highly effective treatment for genitourinary syndrome of menopause (GSM), a common condition associated with hypoestrogenism that impairs sexual function and quality of life.
Use of vaginal formulations does not result in systemic levels of estrogen above the normal postmenopausal range. Nonetheless, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration lists a history of breast cancer as a contraindication to the use of all systemic as well as vaginal estrogens.
In premenopausal women, chemotherapy for breast cancer often results in early menopause. Aromatase inhibitors, although effective in preventing recurrent disease in menopausal women, exacerbate GSM. These factors result in a high prevalence of GSM in breast cancer survivors.
Because the safety of vaginal estrogen in the setting of breast cancer is uncertain, investigators at Johns Hopkins conducted a cohort study using claims-based data from more than 200 million U.S. patients that identified women with GSM who had previously been diagnosed with breast cancer. Among some 42,000 women diagnosed with GSM after breast cancer, 5% had three or more prescriptions and were considered vaginal estrogen users.
No significant differences were noted in recurrence-free survival between the vaginal estrogen group and the no estrogen group. At 5 and 10 years of follow-up, use of vaginal estrogen was not associated with higher all-cause mortality. Among women with estrogen receptor–positive tumors, risk for breast cancer recurrence was similar between estrogen users and nonusers.
However, concomitant use of vaginal estrogen and aromatase inhibitors was associated with a higher risk for breast cancer recurrence than was use of vaginal estrogen alone.
Although this important study’s findings have the limitations characteristic of observational studies, its large size and careful analyses suggest that
Dr. Kaunitz is associate chairman, department of obstetrics and gynecology, University of Florida College of Medicine, Jacksonville. This transcript has been edited for clarity. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Currently, more than 3.8 million breast cancer survivors reside in the United States, reflecting high prevalence as well as cure rates for this common malignancy.
When over-the-counter measures including vaginal lubricants and moisturizers are not adequate, vaginal estrogen may be a highly effective treatment for genitourinary syndrome of menopause (GSM), a common condition associated with hypoestrogenism that impairs sexual function and quality of life.
Use of vaginal formulations does not result in systemic levels of estrogen above the normal postmenopausal range. Nonetheless, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration lists a history of breast cancer as a contraindication to the use of all systemic as well as vaginal estrogens.
In premenopausal women, chemotherapy for breast cancer often results in early menopause. Aromatase inhibitors, although effective in preventing recurrent disease in menopausal women, exacerbate GSM. These factors result in a high prevalence of GSM in breast cancer survivors.
Because the safety of vaginal estrogen in the setting of breast cancer is uncertain, investigators at Johns Hopkins conducted a cohort study using claims-based data from more than 200 million U.S. patients that identified women with GSM who had previously been diagnosed with breast cancer. Among some 42,000 women diagnosed with GSM after breast cancer, 5% had three or more prescriptions and were considered vaginal estrogen users.
No significant differences were noted in recurrence-free survival between the vaginal estrogen group and the no estrogen group. At 5 and 10 years of follow-up, use of vaginal estrogen was not associated with higher all-cause mortality. Among women with estrogen receptor–positive tumors, risk for breast cancer recurrence was similar between estrogen users and nonusers.
However, concomitant use of vaginal estrogen and aromatase inhibitors was associated with a higher risk for breast cancer recurrence than was use of vaginal estrogen alone.
Although this important study’s findings have the limitations characteristic of observational studies, its large size and careful analyses suggest that
Dr. Kaunitz is associate chairman, department of obstetrics and gynecology, University of Florida College of Medicine, Jacksonville. This transcript has been edited for clarity. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
The case for ‘pleasure hygiene’: Sexual health in patients with chronic illness
A recent study found a significant association between lower sexual frequency and greater all-cause mortality in young and middle-aged people with hypertension. Should primary care physicians be offering a pleasure prescription to the 6 in 10 Americans living with chronic illness?
Ask, don’t tell
First, we need to ask routinely about sexual well-being and pleasure. Without asking patients their views, we do not know the relevance of sex for their quality of life. Unless we ask, we do not know what specific kinds of sexual play are important for a person’s pleasure, nor can we assume how they prioritize their sexual functioning in the context of their medical care. When I began asking my primary care patients about sexual well-being, many more than I expected were quietly holding on to distressing issues. Now, as a sexual medicine specialist, in each sexual function evaluation, I ask three key questions: What are your goals? What does sex mean to you? What kinds of sexual play are important for your (and your partner’s) pleasure?
Chronic disease – with physical symptoms as well as psychological, relational, and cultural components – affects both general and genital physiology. Any disease process that alters vascular, neuroendocrine, or musculoskeletal function is likely to influence sexual function, either directly through the disease process or indirectly through complications or the effect on identity and well-being. In addition, a host of iatrogenic changes to sexual function may accompany effects of treatments.
Managing the effects of chronic illness on sexuality requires resilience and flexibility. A serious injury may require a massive adjustment to sexuality, but progressive disease may require continuous accommodations to sexual changes. The life stage at which the disease occurs also matters. People facing disease early in life encounter challenges (finding willing sexual partners and limited medical guidance regarding their sexual functioning) as well as benefits (they may integrate their disease as part of their sexual life). Those who experience sexual changes related to their illness later in life may face a loss of “normal” sexual function and well-being.
Meanwhile, the partner who is not ill may have their own sexual needs, fears, and worries. Both patients and partners may experience disenfranchised grief – a sense of loss about something one is not culturally permitted to mourn (“I/my partner is alive in the face of this terrible illness; who am I to worry about our/my sexual pleasure?”).
Positive marital relationships influence health through improved survival, improved medical adherence, better quality of life for the patient, and improved life satisfaction. Sexual satisfaction is an important factor in relational satisfaction. Helping our patients with these changes therefore may improve not only sexual health but overall health.
How, then, should we address sexual pleasure in chronic illness care? Here are a few tips:
Focus on pleasure. “Performance” is foul language when it comes to sex. Full attention to sensation and enjoyment, the only sexual “skill” anyone needs, is impossible while trying to perform.
Encourage flexibility and recognize that sex encompasses a wide and varied menu of experiences that change over a lifetime. Sex is everything from kissing and cuddling to the wildest things a mind can imagine. We can help both patients and partners think about the wide variety of ways to meet sexual needs. Balancing acceptance of sexual changes with motivation for improvement also is part of our role.
Address the effects of illness on the patient’s relationship with their body. Illness may alter not only bodily function but also self-esteem and body image. A reorganization of self-concept may occur (“I am no longer a sexual person; I’m a sexually dysfunctional asthmatic/diabetic/etc. and should avoid sexual intimacy”). Examining these self-constructs allows shifts in thoughts and behaviors, leading to improved psychological and sexual well-being. Encourage patients to explore what feels good in this body now. When possible, we can help with referral for corrective surgeries or direction to resources like stoma covers, wigs, scarves, and tattoos.
We offer suggestions for “sleep hygiene”; how about pleasure hygiene?
- Encourage open communication with partner(s) and offer resources to develop communication skills.
- Consider needs for physical and emotional preparation for sexual play: adequate rest, preparing the environment for body fluids, pillows for comfort or aides for positioning, and plenty of lubricant at hand.
- Allow adequate time for sexual play and encourage the ability to adjust or stop and start over – with humor and self-compassion.
- Use sexual aides to enhance pleasure.
- Seek out sexual medicine and sex therapy colleagues when things become tricky.
All bodies, no matter their health or illness state, are capable of pleasure. Hey, pleasure might even save lives!
Dr. Kranz is an clinical assistant professor of obstetrics/gynecology and family medicine, University of Rochester (N.Y.) Medical Center. She reported no conflicts of interest.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
A recent study found a significant association between lower sexual frequency and greater all-cause mortality in young and middle-aged people with hypertension. Should primary care physicians be offering a pleasure prescription to the 6 in 10 Americans living with chronic illness?
Ask, don’t tell
First, we need to ask routinely about sexual well-being and pleasure. Without asking patients their views, we do not know the relevance of sex for their quality of life. Unless we ask, we do not know what specific kinds of sexual play are important for a person’s pleasure, nor can we assume how they prioritize their sexual functioning in the context of their medical care. When I began asking my primary care patients about sexual well-being, many more than I expected were quietly holding on to distressing issues. Now, as a sexual medicine specialist, in each sexual function evaluation, I ask three key questions: What are your goals? What does sex mean to you? What kinds of sexual play are important for your (and your partner’s) pleasure?
Chronic disease – with physical symptoms as well as psychological, relational, and cultural components – affects both general and genital physiology. Any disease process that alters vascular, neuroendocrine, or musculoskeletal function is likely to influence sexual function, either directly through the disease process or indirectly through complications or the effect on identity and well-being. In addition, a host of iatrogenic changes to sexual function may accompany effects of treatments.
Managing the effects of chronic illness on sexuality requires resilience and flexibility. A serious injury may require a massive adjustment to sexuality, but progressive disease may require continuous accommodations to sexual changes. The life stage at which the disease occurs also matters. People facing disease early in life encounter challenges (finding willing sexual partners and limited medical guidance regarding their sexual functioning) as well as benefits (they may integrate their disease as part of their sexual life). Those who experience sexual changes related to their illness later in life may face a loss of “normal” sexual function and well-being.
Meanwhile, the partner who is not ill may have their own sexual needs, fears, and worries. Both patients and partners may experience disenfranchised grief – a sense of loss about something one is not culturally permitted to mourn (“I/my partner is alive in the face of this terrible illness; who am I to worry about our/my sexual pleasure?”).
Positive marital relationships influence health through improved survival, improved medical adherence, better quality of life for the patient, and improved life satisfaction. Sexual satisfaction is an important factor in relational satisfaction. Helping our patients with these changes therefore may improve not only sexual health but overall health.
How, then, should we address sexual pleasure in chronic illness care? Here are a few tips:
Focus on pleasure. “Performance” is foul language when it comes to sex. Full attention to sensation and enjoyment, the only sexual “skill” anyone needs, is impossible while trying to perform.
Encourage flexibility and recognize that sex encompasses a wide and varied menu of experiences that change over a lifetime. Sex is everything from kissing and cuddling to the wildest things a mind can imagine. We can help both patients and partners think about the wide variety of ways to meet sexual needs. Balancing acceptance of sexual changes with motivation for improvement also is part of our role.
Address the effects of illness on the patient’s relationship with their body. Illness may alter not only bodily function but also self-esteem and body image. A reorganization of self-concept may occur (“I am no longer a sexual person; I’m a sexually dysfunctional asthmatic/diabetic/etc. and should avoid sexual intimacy”). Examining these self-constructs allows shifts in thoughts and behaviors, leading to improved psychological and sexual well-being. Encourage patients to explore what feels good in this body now. When possible, we can help with referral for corrective surgeries or direction to resources like stoma covers, wigs, scarves, and tattoos.
We offer suggestions for “sleep hygiene”; how about pleasure hygiene?
- Encourage open communication with partner(s) and offer resources to develop communication skills.
- Consider needs for physical and emotional preparation for sexual play: adequate rest, preparing the environment for body fluids, pillows for comfort or aides for positioning, and plenty of lubricant at hand.
- Allow adequate time for sexual play and encourage the ability to adjust or stop and start over – with humor and self-compassion.
- Use sexual aides to enhance pleasure.
- Seek out sexual medicine and sex therapy colleagues when things become tricky.
All bodies, no matter their health or illness state, are capable of pleasure. Hey, pleasure might even save lives!
Dr. Kranz is an clinical assistant professor of obstetrics/gynecology and family medicine, University of Rochester (N.Y.) Medical Center. She reported no conflicts of interest.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
A recent study found a significant association between lower sexual frequency and greater all-cause mortality in young and middle-aged people with hypertension. Should primary care physicians be offering a pleasure prescription to the 6 in 10 Americans living with chronic illness?
Ask, don’t tell
First, we need to ask routinely about sexual well-being and pleasure. Without asking patients their views, we do not know the relevance of sex for their quality of life. Unless we ask, we do not know what specific kinds of sexual play are important for a person’s pleasure, nor can we assume how they prioritize their sexual functioning in the context of their medical care. When I began asking my primary care patients about sexual well-being, many more than I expected were quietly holding on to distressing issues. Now, as a sexual medicine specialist, in each sexual function evaluation, I ask three key questions: What are your goals? What does sex mean to you? What kinds of sexual play are important for your (and your partner’s) pleasure?
Chronic disease – with physical symptoms as well as psychological, relational, and cultural components – affects both general and genital physiology. Any disease process that alters vascular, neuroendocrine, or musculoskeletal function is likely to influence sexual function, either directly through the disease process or indirectly through complications or the effect on identity and well-being. In addition, a host of iatrogenic changes to sexual function may accompany effects of treatments.
Managing the effects of chronic illness on sexuality requires resilience and flexibility. A serious injury may require a massive adjustment to sexuality, but progressive disease may require continuous accommodations to sexual changes. The life stage at which the disease occurs also matters. People facing disease early in life encounter challenges (finding willing sexual partners and limited medical guidance regarding their sexual functioning) as well as benefits (they may integrate their disease as part of their sexual life). Those who experience sexual changes related to their illness later in life may face a loss of “normal” sexual function and well-being.
Meanwhile, the partner who is not ill may have their own sexual needs, fears, and worries. Both patients and partners may experience disenfranchised grief – a sense of loss about something one is not culturally permitted to mourn (“I/my partner is alive in the face of this terrible illness; who am I to worry about our/my sexual pleasure?”).
Positive marital relationships influence health through improved survival, improved medical adherence, better quality of life for the patient, and improved life satisfaction. Sexual satisfaction is an important factor in relational satisfaction. Helping our patients with these changes therefore may improve not only sexual health but overall health.
How, then, should we address sexual pleasure in chronic illness care? Here are a few tips:
Focus on pleasure. “Performance” is foul language when it comes to sex. Full attention to sensation and enjoyment, the only sexual “skill” anyone needs, is impossible while trying to perform.
Encourage flexibility and recognize that sex encompasses a wide and varied menu of experiences that change over a lifetime. Sex is everything from kissing and cuddling to the wildest things a mind can imagine. We can help both patients and partners think about the wide variety of ways to meet sexual needs. Balancing acceptance of sexual changes with motivation for improvement also is part of our role.
Address the effects of illness on the patient’s relationship with their body. Illness may alter not only bodily function but also self-esteem and body image. A reorganization of self-concept may occur (“I am no longer a sexual person; I’m a sexually dysfunctional asthmatic/diabetic/etc. and should avoid sexual intimacy”). Examining these self-constructs allows shifts in thoughts and behaviors, leading to improved psychological and sexual well-being. Encourage patients to explore what feels good in this body now. When possible, we can help with referral for corrective surgeries or direction to resources like stoma covers, wigs, scarves, and tattoos.
We offer suggestions for “sleep hygiene”; how about pleasure hygiene?
- Encourage open communication with partner(s) and offer resources to develop communication skills.
- Consider needs for physical and emotional preparation for sexual play: adequate rest, preparing the environment for body fluids, pillows for comfort or aides for positioning, and plenty of lubricant at hand.
- Allow adequate time for sexual play and encourage the ability to adjust or stop and start over – with humor and self-compassion.
- Use sexual aides to enhance pleasure.
- Seek out sexual medicine and sex therapy colleagues when things become tricky.
All bodies, no matter their health or illness state, are capable of pleasure. Hey, pleasure might even save lives!
Dr. Kranz is an clinical assistant professor of obstetrics/gynecology and family medicine, University of Rochester (N.Y.) Medical Center. She reported no conflicts of interest.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Prostate cancer screening guidelines: To PSA or not to PSA
In the United States this year, approximately 288,300 men will be newly diagnosed with prostate cancer and about 34,700 men will die from this disease. It is the second leading cause of cancer in men, and one out of every eight men will be diagnosed with this cancer at some point in their lives.
As primary care physicians, a large part of our role is to prevent or detect cancers early. Patients look to us for this guidance. However, prostate cancer screening has long been a controversial issue. Earlier this year, the American Urological Association along with the Society of Urologic Oncology published updated guidelines.
Clear recommendations that come from this set of guidelines that are relevant to primary care physicians include:
- using PSA as the screening test of choice.
- repeating PSA in patients with newly elevated results before moving on to other test.
- offering PSA screening every 2-4 years in patients aged 50-69 years.
- offering baseline screening in those between 45-50 years of age.
In high-risk patients, screening can be initiated at 40-45 years of age. All of these recommendations come with the caveat that we give the patient all the pros and cons and leave it up to their “values and preferences.”
The guidelines make recommendations regarding PSA screening and biopsy standards. These guidelines are very specific in their recommendations; however, the question about whether to do PSA screening in the first place is left open to debate. While shared decision-making is important with any testing, it is more difficult with prostate cancer screening. Patients need to understand that there are possible adverse events that can result because of an elevated PSA, such as unneeded biopsies that may come with complications.
The authors of this set of guidelines suggest that physicians talk to patients more often about the benefits of the screening than they do about the negative consequences. This assumes that a negative biopsy result is an unnecessary test, which is not a fair assessment. Negative test results can provide useful clinical information. While a PSA result may lead to a biopsy that could have possibly been avoided, we don’t have any better screening tests available. Missing a prostate cancer that could have been detected by PSA screening is also very harmful. Deciding whether to do PSA screening for any given patient then becomes a difficult question.
More research into biomarkers to detect prostate cancer is needed, as suggested by the guideline authors. As primary care doctors, we’re the first ones to order these tests and make decisions regarding the results. While we may not be the ones to do the biopsies, we do need to know when to refer the patients to specialists or when we can just repeat the test.
Population health is often the benchmark used when looking at screening guidelines. But in the primary care setting, we are responsible for individual patients. Applying guidelines that take whole populations into consideration often doesn’t translate well to single patients. We do need to make them responsible for their own health care decisions but, at the same time, we need to offer them some guidance. If the guidelines are clear, this is easy. When they suggest giving patients all the pros and cons and letting them make their own decision, this is hard. Some of them want us to tell them what to do.
Additionally, patients in the primary care setting develop close relationships with their physicians. They are not an elevated PSA test or a negative biopsy result. They have concerns and fears. When they are high risk, the advice is easy. Keeping in mind that prostate cancer is the second leading cause of cancer in men in the United States, we should have clear screening guidelines, such as we do with mammograms in women. Yes, shared decision-making is important, but we also need to know the answer when our patients ask us whether or not they should have a PSA test done.
Dr. Girgis practices family medicine in South River, N.J., and is a clinical assistant professor of family medicine at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School, New Brunswick, N.J.
In the United States this year, approximately 288,300 men will be newly diagnosed with prostate cancer and about 34,700 men will die from this disease. It is the second leading cause of cancer in men, and one out of every eight men will be diagnosed with this cancer at some point in their lives.
As primary care physicians, a large part of our role is to prevent or detect cancers early. Patients look to us for this guidance. However, prostate cancer screening has long been a controversial issue. Earlier this year, the American Urological Association along with the Society of Urologic Oncology published updated guidelines.
Clear recommendations that come from this set of guidelines that are relevant to primary care physicians include:
- using PSA as the screening test of choice.
- repeating PSA in patients with newly elevated results before moving on to other test.
- offering PSA screening every 2-4 years in patients aged 50-69 years.
- offering baseline screening in those between 45-50 years of age.
In high-risk patients, screening can be initiated at 40-45 years of age. All of these recommendations come with the caveat that we give the patient all the pros and cons and leave it up to their “values and preferences.”
The guidelines make recommendations regarding PSA screening and biopsy standards. These guidelines are very specific in their recommendations; however, the question about whether to do PSA screening in the first place is left open to debate. While shared decision-making is important with any testing, it is more difficult with prostate cancer screening. Patients need to understand that there are possible adverse events that can result because of an elevated PSA, such as unneeded biopsies that may come with complications.
The authors of this set of guidelines suggest that physicians talk to patients more often about the benefits of the screening than they do about the negative consequences. This assumes that a negative biopsy result is an unnecessary test, which is not a fair assessment. Negative test results can provide useful clinical information. While a PSA result may lead to a biopsy that could have possibly been avoided, we don’t have any better screening tests available. Missing a prostate cancer that could have been detected by PSA screening is also very harmful. Deciding whether to do PSA screening for any given patient then becomes a difficult question.
More research into biomarkers to detect prostate cancer is needed, as suggested by the guideline authors. As primary care doctors, we’re the first ones to order these tests and make decisions regarding the results. While we may not be the ones to do the biopsies, we do need to know when to refer the patients to specialists or when we can just repeat the test.
Population health is often the benchmark used when looking at screening guidelines. But in the primary care setting, we are responsible for individual patients. Applying guidelines that take whole populations into consideration often doesn’t translate well to single patients. We do need to make them responsible for their own health care decisions but, at the same time, we need to offer them some guidance. If the guidelines are clear, this is easy. When they suggest giving patients all the pros and cons and letting them make their own decision, this is hard. Some of them want us to tell them what to do.
Additionally, patients in the primary care setting develop close relationships with their physicians. They are not an elevated PSA test or a negative biopsy result. They have concerns and fears. When they are high risk, the advice is easy. Keeping in mind that prostate cancer is the second leading cause of cancer in men in the United States, we should have clear screening guidelines, such as we do with mammograms in women. Yes, shared decision-making is important, but we also need to know the answer when our patients ask us whether or not they should have a PSA test done.
Dr. Girgis practices family medicine in South River, N.J., and is a clinical assistant professor of family medicine at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School, New Brunswick, N.J.
In the United States this year, approximately 288,300 men will be newly diagnosed with prostate cancer and about 34,700 men will die from this disease. It is the second leading cause of cancer in men, and one out of every eight men will be diagnosed with this cancer at some point in their lives.
As primary care physicians, a large part of our role is to prevent or detect cancers early. Patients look to us for this guidance. However, prostate cancer screening has long been a controversial issue. Earlier this year, the American Urological Association along with the Society of Urologic Oncology published updated guidelines.
Clear recommendations that come from this set of guidelines that are relevant to primary care physicians include:
- using PSA as the screening test of choice.
- repeating PSA in patients with newly elevated results before moving on to other test.
- offering PSA screening every 2-4 years in patients aged 50-69 years.
- offering baseline screening in those between 45-50 years of age.
In high-risk patients, screening can be initiated at 40-45 years of age. All of these recommendations come with the caveat that we give the patient all the pros and cons and leave it up to their “values and preferences.”
The guidelines make recommendations regarding PSA screening and biopsy standards. These guidelines are very specific in their recommendations; however, the question about whether to do PSA screening in the first place is left open to debate. While shared decision-making is important with any testing, it is more difficult with prostate cancer screening. Patients need to understand that there are possible adverse events that can result because of an elevated PSA, such as unneeded biopsies that may come with complications.
The authors of this set of guidelines suggest that physicians talk to patients more often about the benefits of the screening than they do about the negative consequences. This assumes that a negative biopsy result is an unnecessary test, which is not a fair assessment. Negative test results can provide useful clinical information. While a PSA result may lead to a biopsy that could have possibly been avoided, we don’t have any better screening tests available. Missing a prostate cancer that could have been detected by PSA screening is also very harmful. Deciding whether to do PSA screening for any given patient then becomes a difficult question.
More research into biomarkers to detect prostate cancer is needed, as suggested by the guideline authors. As primary care doctors, we’re the first ones to order these tests and make decisions regarding the results. While we may not be the ones to do the biopsies, we do need to know when to refer the patients to specialists or when we can just repeat the test.
Population health is often the benchmark used when looking at screening guidelines. But in the primary care setting, we are responsible for individual patients. Applying guidelines that take whole populations into consideration often doesn’t translate well to single patients. We do need to make them responsible for their own health care decisions but, at the same time, we need to offer them some guidance. If the guidelines are clear, this is easy. When they suggest giving patients all the pros and cons and letting them make their own decision, this is hard. Some of them want us to tell them what to do.
Additionally, patients in the primary care setting develop close relationships with their physicians. They are not an elevated PSA test or a negative biopsy result. They have concerns and fears. When they are high risk, the advice is easy. Keeping in mind that prostate cancer is the second leading cause of cancer in men in the United States, we should have clear screening guidelines, such as we do with mammograms in women. Yes, shared decision-making is important, but we also need to know the answer when our patients ask us whether or not they should have a PSA test done.
Dr. Girgis practices family medicine in South River, N.J., and is a clinical assistant professor of family medicine at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School, New Brunswick, N.J.
Psychedelic experience and “oneiroid” state
David Nichols, PhD, a leading expert in the field of psychedelic research and the founding president of the Heffter Research Institute, often answers the question, “What is a psychedelic?” by saying, “The scientific definition I always use is that they are substances that produce changes in thought, mood, and affect, which only occur during dreaming or religious exaltation.”1,2 However, this definition does not account for the experiences of naturally occurring psychoses, such as those seen in schizophrenia.
The phenomenology of psychotic experiences between drug-induced and naturally occurring psychoses differs, and the use of psychedelics does not necessarily replicate or simulate the symptoms of schizophrenia. For example, drug induced hallucinations are often described as more intense and vivid, while those associated with schizophrenia are described as more persistent and distressing.3
An altered state of consciousness is a hallmark of a psychedelic trip, but not a characteristic of schizophrenia. Patients with schizophrenia who have used psychedelics typically report that their experiences under the influence of these drugs are distinct from their usual experiences with the condition. Additionally, according to many experts, the underlying neurobiological mechanisms are different, with psychedelics affecting serotonin receptors and schizophrenia thought to be linked more to dopamine dysregulation, among other factors.
However, there are some instances of naturally occurring psychoses that are difficult to distinguish from the experiences reported by those who take psychedelics. This article explores the similarities between psychedelic experiences induced by serotonergic psychedelics, 5-HT2A agonists, such as LSD, psilocybin, and mescaline, and a rare psychiatric disorder known as the “oneiroid state.”
Origins and definitions
The term “oneiroia” is derived from the Greek words for “sleep” and “similar,” referring to the dreamlike character of the condition. It is widely acknowledged that psychedelics can temporarily induce dreamlike states,4 but this article focuses specifically on the naturally occurring, endogenous dreamlike state.
Oneiroid state was first described by German psychiatrist Wilhelm Mayer-Gross in the early 20th century and was once well-known among European psychiatrists. Some classified it as a part of schizophrenia, others saw it as an unusual manifestation of affective disorder, and still others considered it an atypical psychosis. Nevertheless, this phenomenon has received limited attention in American psychiatric journals.
The key characteristic of this condition is a distinctive state of consciousness marked by vivid and florid hallucinations, and a succession of constantly shifting dreamlike or surrealistic visuals and imagery often similar to mystical or cosmic experiences. Self-awareness and orientation in time and place are often disturbed, and delusions are experienced within this altered state.5
To gain a better understanding of the oneiroid state, it may be helpful to turn to European or other schools of psychiatry with a history of studying this phenomenon, as American psychiatry has limited knowledge in this area.
As described in the “Handbook of Psychiatry” by Russian psychiatrist A.V. Snezhnevsky, published in 1983, oneiroid state, also known as oneiroid syndrome, is a dreamlike and imaginative state characterized by a bizarre combination of reality and vivid phantasmagoric imaginations.6 In this state, individuals are completely detached from their surroundings and experience a change in self-awareness, often displaying either a lack of movement or senseless excitement.
Patients often experience the oneiroid state as active participants, as if they are in a movie theater, not only watching the story, but also being part of it, reacting to it with either “external immobility” or senseless excitement, completely detached from their surroundings. This is similar to the portrayal of the emotions of the characters in Steven Spielberg’s film “Ready Player One.”
The entry in Dr. Snezhnevsky’s “Handbook” states: “Some patients in Oneiroid State experience travels to other worlds, such as interacting with inhabitants on Mars, collecting gems on the moon, exploring invisible cities, participating in conspiracies and insurrections, fighting with pirates, chasing The Flying Dutchman, wandering through ancient Rome, and even visiting heaven or hell. At times, the patient’s imagination reaches a state of mystical contemplation.”6
In contrast to delirium, which never impairs self-awareness, oneiroid state is marked by drastic changes in the sense of self. The memory of the subjective experience during the oneiroia is much more vivid and consistent than in delirium. Patients who have experienced the oneiroid state often have complete recall of their experience, as if they have just woken up from a dream.
It was commonly thought that oneiroid state was part of the group of functional psychoses, rather than organic psychoses, and was not considered to be a result of mind-altering psychedelics. It was not considered a manifestation of epilepsy either. Oneiroid state could last for weeks or even months, making it unlikely to be related to an epileptic seizure. Furthermore, EEG results did not show any seizurelike activity during the state.
An excellent case study on oneiroid state was published in Israel in 2000. The authors described two patients who experienced the oneiroid state for several days or even weeks.7 One of the patients reported that during the illness, he experienced himself aboard a spaceship as a cosmonaut, heading for a different universe. On another occasion, the patient perceived himself as a person living 2,000 years ago and being guilty of Christ’s death.
The second patient reported that everything around her appeared “like in the movies,” and she saw others as characters from comic strips. Both patients alternated between catatonic excitement and sluggishness and would sometimes come back to reality for a few minutes to respond to questions. Physical exams, laboratory tests, neurological tests, and a brain scan were all normal in both cases.
Conclusions
As mentioned earlier, oneiroid state is not widely discussed in American psychiatric journals and is now considered a rare condition globally, despite being a common occurrence in the past century. A diagnosis similar to oneiroid state, known as bouffée délirante, is still in use in some French-speaking countries, with a noticeable decline in frequency.2,8 The widespread acceptance of international classification systems such as the ICD-10, which does not recognize the diagnosis, is likely one of the reasons for this decline.
However, the decrease in the prevalence of the oneiroid state is not unique, as other forms of mental illness, such as the catatonic subtype of schizophrenia, are also becoming less prevalent. The cause of this decline is uncertain. Could changes in the way mental disorders affect 5HT2A receptors be a contributing factor?
In conclusion, as the field of psychedelic research experiences a resurgence, this little-known manifestation of mental illness, oneiroid state, may be worth reexamining.
With the expected approval and regulation of psilocybin and MDMA by the FDA, and classical psychedelics widely regarded as nonaddictive and safer than other recreational drugs, , rather than as a cause for concern.
Dr. Khetsuriani is a supervising psychiatrist at the Bronx Psychiatric Center in Bronx, N.Y., and has a private psychiatric practice located in Manhattan, N.Y.
References
1. Nichols DE. Keynote address, 39th Telluride Mushroom Festival, Aug. 15-18, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlDCM5JQzRk.
2. Nichols DE. Psychedelics. Pharmacol Rev. 2016 Apr;68(2):264-355. doi: 10.1124/pr.115.011478.
3. Leptourgos P et al. Hallucinations Under Psychedelics and in the Schizophrenia Spectrum: An Interdisciplinary and Multiscale Comparison. Schizophr Bull. 2020 Dec 1;46(6):1396-1408. doi: 10.1093/schbul/sbaa117.
4. Kraehenmann R. Dreams and Psychedelics: Neurophenomenological Comparison and Therapeutic Implications. Curr Neuropharmacol. 2017;15(7):1032-42. doi: 10.2174/1573413713666170619092629.
5. Henri EY et al. “Acute Delusional Psychosis” in Hirsch SR and Shepherd M, eds. Themes and variations in European psychiatry: An anthology. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1974.
6. Snezhnevsky A, ed. Handbook of Psychiatry. Moscow: Meditsina, 1983.
7. Kaptsan A et al. Oneiroid syndrome: A concept of use for Western psychiatry. Isr J Psychiatry Relat Sci. 2000;37(4):278-85.
8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouff%C3%A9e_d%C3%A9lirante.
David Nichols, PhD, a leading expert in the field of psychedelic research and the founding president of the Heffter Research Institute, often answers the question, “What is a psychedelic?” by saying, “The scientific definition I always use is that they are substances that produce changes in thought, mood, and affect, which only occur during dreaming or religious exaltation.”1,2 However, this definition does not account for the experiences of naturally occurring psychoses, such as those seen in schizophrenia.
The phenomenology of psychotic experiences between drug-induced and naturally occurring psychoses differs, and the use of psychedelics does not necessarily replicate or simulate the symptoms of schizophrenia. For example, drug induced hallucinations are often described as more intense and vivid, while those associated with schizophrenia are described as more persistent and distressing.3
An altered state of consciousness is a hallmark of a psychedelic trip, but not a characteristic of schizophrenia. Patients with schizophrenia who have used psychedelics typically report that their experiences under the influence of these drugs are distinct from their usual experiences with the condition. Additionally, according to many experts, the underlying neurobiological mechanisms are different, with psychedelics affecting serotonin receptors and schizophrenia thought to be linked more to dopamine dysregulation, among other factors.
However, there are some instances of naturally occurring psychoses that are difficult to distinguish from the experiences reported by those who take psychedelics. This article explores the similarities between psychedelic experiences induced by serotonergic psychedelics, 5-HT2A agonists, such as LSD, psilocybin, and mescaline, and a rare psychiatric disorder known as the “oneiroid state.”
Origins and definitions
The term “oneiroia” is derived from the Greek words for “sleep” and “similar,” referring to the dreamlike character of the condition. It is widely acknowledged that psychedelics can temporarily induce dreamlike states,4 but this article focuses specifically on the naturally occurring, endogenous dreamlike state.
Oneiroid state was first described by German psychiatrist Wilhelm Mayer-Gross in the early 20th century and was once well-known among European psychiatrists. Some classified it as a part of schizophrenia, others saw it as an unusual manifestation of affective disorder, and still others considered it an atypical psychosis. Nevertheless, this phenomenon has received limited attention in American psychiatric journals.
The key characteristic of this condition is a distinctive state of consciousness marked by vivid and florid hallucinations, and a succession of constantly shifting dreamlike or surrealistic visuals and imagery often similar to mystical or cosmic experiences. Self-awareness and orientation in time and place are often disturbed, and delusions are experienced within this altered state.5
To gain a better understanding of the oneiroid state, it may be helpful to turn to European or other schools of psychiatry with a history of studying this phenomenon, as American psychiatry has limited knowledge in this area.
As described in the “Handbook of Psychiatry” by Russian psychiatrist A.V. Snezhnevsky, published in 1983, oneiroid state, also known as oneiroid syndrome, is a dreamlike and imaginative state characterized by a bizarre combination of reality and vivid phantasmagoric imaginations.6 In this state, individuals are completely detached from their surroundings and experience a change in self-awareness, often displaying either a lack of movement or senseless excitement.
Patients often experience the oneiroid state as active participants, as if they are in a movie theater, not only watching the story, but also being part of it, reacting to it with either “external immobility” or senseless excitement, completely detached from their surroundings. This is similar to the portrayal of the emotions of the characters in Steven Spielberg’s film “Ready Player One.”
The entry in Dr. Snezhnevsky’s “Handbook” states: “Some patients in Oneiroid State experience travels to other worlds, such as interacting with inhabitants on Mars, collecting gems on the moon, exploring invisible cities, participating in conspiracies and insurrections, fighting with pirates, chasing The Flying Dutchman, wandering through ancient Rome, and even visiting heaven or hell. At times, the patient’s imagination reaches a state of mystical contemplation.”6
In contrast to delirium, which never impairs self-awareness, oneiroid state is marked by drastic changes in the sense of self. The memory of the subjective experience during the oneiroia is much more vivid and consistent than in delirium. Patients who have experienced the oneiroid state often have complete recall of their experience, as if they have just woken up from a dream.
It was commonly thought that oneiroid state was part of the group of functional psychoses, rather than organic psychoses, and was not considered to be a result of mind-altering psychedelics. It was not considered a manifestation of epilepsy either. Oneiroid state could last for weeks or even months, making it unlikely to be related to an epileptic seizure. Furthermore, EEG results did not show any seizurelike activity during the state.
An excellent case study on oneiroid state was published in Israel in 2000. The authors described two patients who experienced the oneiroid state for several days or even weeks.7 One of the patients reported that during the illness, he experienced himself aboard a spaceship as a cosmonaut, heading for a different universe. On another occasion, the patient perceived himself as a person living 2,000 years ago and being guilty of Christ’s death.
The second patient reported that everything around her appeared “like in the movies,” and she saw others as characters from comic strips. Both patients alternated between catatonic excitement and sluggishness and would sometimes come back to reality for a few minutes to respond to questions. Physical exams, laboratory tests, neurological tests, and a brain scan were all normal in both cases.
Conclusions
As mentioned earlier, oneiroid state is not widely discussed in American psychiatric journals and is now considered a rare condition globally, despite being a common occurrence in the past century. A diagnosis similar to oneiroid state, known as bouffée délirante, is still in use in some French-speaking countries, with a noticeable decline in frequency.2,8 The widespread acceptance of international classification systems such as the ICD-10, which does not recognize the diagnosis, is likely one of the reasons for this decline.
However, the decrease in the prevalence of the oneiroid state is not unique, as other forms of mental illness, such as the catatonic subtype of schizophrenia, are also becoming less prevalent. The cause of this decline is uncertain. Could changes in the way mental disorders affect 5HT2A receptors be a contributing factor?
In conclusion, as the field of psychedelic research experiences a resurgence, this little-known manifestation of mental illness, oneiroid state, may be worth reexamining.
With the expected approval and regulation of psilocybin and MDMA by the FDA, and classical psychedelics widely regarded as nonaddictive and safer than other recreational drugs, , rather than as a cause for concern.
Dr. Khetsuriani is a supervising psychiatrist at the Bronx Psychiatric Center in Bronx, N.Y., and has a private psychiatric practice located in Manhattan, N.Y.
References
1. Nichols DE. Keynote address, 39th Telluride Mushroom Festival, Aug. 15-18, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlDCM5JQzRk.
2. Nichols DE. Psychedelics. Pharmacol Rev. 2016 Apr;68(2):264-355. doi: 10.1124/pr.115.011478.
3. Leptourgos P et al. Hallucinations Under Psychedelics and in the Schizophrenia Spectrum: An Interdisciplinary and Multiscale Comparison. Schizophr Bull. 2020 Dec 1;46(6):1396-1408. doi: 10.1093/schbul/sbaa117.
4. Kraehenmann R. Dreams and Psychedelics: Neurophenomenological Comparison and Therapeutic Implications. Curr Neuropharmacol. 2017;15(7):1032-42. doi: 10.2174/1573413713666170619092629.
5. Henri EY et al. “Acute Delusional Psychosis” in Hirsch SR and Shepherd M, eds. Themes and variations in European psychiatry: An anthology. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1974.
6. Snezhnevsky A, ed. Handbook of Psychiatry. Moscow: Meditsina, 1983.
7. Kaptsan A et al. Oneiroid syndrome: A concept of use for Western psychiatry. Isr J Psychiatry Relat Sci. 2000;37(4):278-85.
8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouff%C3%A9e_d%C3%A9lirante.
David Nichols, PhD, a leading expert in the field of psychedelic research and the founding president of the Heffter Research Institute, often answers the question, “What is a psychedelic?” by saying, “The scientific definition I always use is that they are substances that produce changes in thought, mood, and affect, which only occur during dreaming or religious exaltation.”1,2 However, this definition does not account for the experiences of naturally occurring psychoses, such as those seen in schizophrenia.
The phenomenology of psychotic experiences between drug-induced and naturally occurring psychoses differs, and the use of psychedelics does not necessarily replicate or simulate the symptoms of schizophrenia. For example, drug induced hallucinations are often described as more intense and vivid, while those associated with schizophrenia are described as more persistent and distressing.3
An altered state of consciousness is a hallmark of a psychedelic trip, but not a characteristic of schizophrenia. Patients with schizophrenia who have used psychedelics typically report that their experiences under the influence of these drugs are distinct from their usual experiences with the condition. Additionally, according to many experts, the underlying neurobiological mechanisms are different, with psychedelics affecting serotonin receptors and schizophrenia thought to be linked more to dopamine dysregulation, among other factors.
However, there are some instances of naturally occurring psychoses that are difficult to distinguish from the experiences reported by those who take psychedelics. This article explores the similarities between psychedelic experiences induced by serotonergic psychedelics, 5-HT2A agonists, such as LSD, psilocybin, and mescaline, and a rare psychiatric disorder known as the “oneiroid state.”
Origins and definitions
The term “oneiroia” is derived from the Greek words for “sleep” and “similar,” referring to the dreamlike character of the condition. It is widely acknowledged that psychedelics can temporarily induce dreamlike states,4 but this article focuses specifically on the naturally occurring, endogenous dreamlike state.
Oneiroid state was first described by German psychiatrist Wilhelm Mayer-Gross in the early 20th century and was once well-known among European psychiatrists. Some classified it as a part of schizophrenia, others saw it as an unusual manifestation of affective disorder, and still others considered it an atypical psychosis. Nevertheless, this phenomenon has received limited attention in American psychiatric journals.
The key characteristic of this condition is a distinctive state of consciousness marked by vivid and florid hallucinations, and a succession of constantly shifting dreamlike or surrealistic visuals and imagery often similar to mystical or cosmic experiences. Self-awareness and orientation in time and place are often disturbed, and delusions are experienced within this altered state.5
To gain a better understanding of the oneiroid state, it may be helpful to turn to European or other schools of psychiatry with a history of studying this phenomenon, as American psychiatry has limited knowledge in this area.
As described in the “Handbook of Psychiatry” by Russian psychiatrist A.V. Snezhnevsky, published in 1983, oneiroid state, also known as oneiroid syndrome, is a dreamlike and imaginative state characterized by a bizarre combination of reality and vivid phantasmagoric imaginations.6 In this state, individuals are completely detached from their surroundings and experience a change in self-awareness, often displaying either a lack of movement or senseless excitement.
Patients often experience the oneiroid state as active participants, as if they are in a movie theater, not only watching the story, but also being part of it, reacting to it with either “external immobility” or senseless excitement, completely detached from their surroundings. This is similar to the portrayal of the emotions of the characters in Steven Spielberg’s film “Ready Player One.”
The entry in Dr. Snezhnevsky’s “Handbook” states: “Some patients in Oneiroid State experience travels to other worlds, such as interacting with inhabitants on Mars, collecting gems on the moon, exploring invisible cities, participating in conspiracies and insurrections, fighting with pirates, chasing The Flying Dutchman, wandering through ancient Rome, and even visiting heaven or hell. At times, the patient’s imagination reaches a state of mystical contemplation.”6
In contrast to delirium, which never impairs self-awareness, oneiroid state is marked by drastic changes in the sense of self. The memory of the subjective experience during the oneiroia is much more vivid and consistent than in delirium. Patients who have experienced the oneiroid state often have complete recall of their experience, as if they have just woken up from a dream.
It was commonly thought that oneiroid state was part of the group of functional psychoses, rather than organic psychoses, and was not considered to be a result of mind-altering psychedelics. It was not considered a manifestation of epilepsy either. Oneiroid state could last for weeks or even months, making it unlikely to be related to an epileptic seizure. Furthermore, EEG results did not show any seizurelike activity during the state.
An excellent case study on oneiroid state was published in Israel in 2000. The authors described two patients who experienced the oneiroid state for several days or even weeks.7 One of the patients reported that during the illness, he experienced himself aboard a spaceship as a cosmonaut, heading for a different universe. On another occasion, the patient perceived himself as a person living 2,000 years ago and being guilty of Christ’s death.
The second patient reported that everything around her appeared “like in the movies,” and she saw others as characters from comic strips. Both patients alternated between catatonic excitement and sluggishness and would sometimes come back to reality for a few minutes to respond to questions. Physical exams, laboratory tests, neurological tests, and a brain scan were all normal in both cases.
Conclusions
As mentioned earlier, oneiroid state is not widely discussed in American psychiatric journals and is now considered a rare condition globally, despite being a common occurrence in the past century. A diagnosis similar to oneiroid state, known as bouffée délirante, is still in use in some French-speaking countries, with a noticeable decline in frequency.2,8 The widespread acceptance of international classification systems such as the ICD-10, which does not recognize the diagnosis, is likely one of the reasons for this decline.
However, the decrease in the prevalence of the oneiroid state is not unique, as other forms of mental illness, such as the catatonic subtype of schizophrenia, are also becoming less prevalent. The cause of this decline is uncertain. Could changes in the way mental disorders affect 5HT2A receptors be a contributing factor?
In conclusion, as the field of psychedelic research experiences a resurgence, this little-known manifestation of mental illness, oneiroid state, may be worth reexamining.
With the expected approval and regulation of psilocybin and MDMA by the FDA, and classical psychedelics widely regarded as nonaddictive and safer than other recreational drugs, , rather than as a cause for concern.
Dr. Khetsuriani is a supervising psychiatrist at the Bronx Psychiatric Center in Bronx, N.Y., and has a private psychiatric practice located in Manhattan, N.Y.
References
1. Nichols DE. Keynote address, 39th Telluride Mushroom Festival, Aug. 15-18, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlDCM5JQzRk.
2. Nichols DE. Psychedelics. Pharmacol Rev. 2016 Apr;68(2):264-355. doi: 10.1124/pr.115.011478.
3. Leptourgos P et al. Hallucinations Under Psychedelics and in the Schizophrenia Spectrum: An Interdisciplinary and Multiscale Comparison. Schizophr Bull. 2020 Dec 1;46(6):1396-1408. doi: 10.1093/schbul/sbaa117.
4. Kraehenmann R. Dreams and Psychedelics: Neurophenomenological Comparison and Therapeutic Implications. Curr Neuropharmacol. 2017;15(7):1032-42. doi: 10.2174/1573413713666170619092629.
5. Henri EY et al. “Acute Delusional Psychosis” in Hirsch SR and Shepherd M, eds. Themes and variations in European psychiatry: An anthology. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1974.
6. Snezhnevsky A, ed. Handbook of Psychiatry. Moscow: Meditsina, 1983.
7. Kaptsan A et al. Oneiroid syndrome: A concept of use for Western psychiatry. Isr J Psychiatry Relat Sci. 2000;37(4):278-85.
8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouff%C3%A9e_d%C3%A9lirante.
Bad blood: Could brain bleeds be contagious?
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
How do you tell if a condition is caused by an infection?
It seems like an obvious question, right? In the post–van Leeuwenhoek era we can look at whatever part of the body is diseased under a microscope and see microbes – you know, the usual suspects.
Except when we can’t. And there are plenty of cases where we can’t: where the microbe is too small to be seen without more advanced imaging techniques, like with viruses; or when the pathogen is sparsely populated or hard to culture, like Mycobacterium.
Finding out that a condition is the result of an infection is not only an exercise for 19th century physicians. After all, it was 2008 when Barry Marshall and Robin Warren won their Nobel Prize for proving that stomach ulcers, long thought to be due to “stress,” were actually caused by a tiny microbe called Helicobacter pylori.
And this week, we are looking at a study which, once again, begins to suggest that a condition thought to be more or less random – cerebral amyloid angiopathy – may actually be the result of an infectious disease.
We’re talking about this paper, appearing in JAMA, which is just a great example of old-fashioned shoe-leather epidemiology. But let’s get up to speed on cerebral amyloid angiopathy (CAA) first.
CAA is characterized by the deposition of amyloid protein in the brain. While there are some genetic causes, they are quite rare, and most cases are thought to be idiopathic. Recent analyses suggest that somewhere between 5% and 7% of cognitively normal older adults have CAA, but the rate is much higher among those with intracerebral hemorrhage – brain bleeds. In fact, CAA is the second-most common cause of bleeding in the brain, second only to severe hypertension.
An article in Nature highlights cases that seemed to develop after the administration of cadaveric pituitary hormone.
Other studies have shown potential transmission via dura mater grafts and neurosurgical instruments. But despite those clues, no infectious organism has been identified. Some have suggested that the long latent period and difficulty of finding a responsible microbe points to a prion-like disease not yet known. But these studies are more or less case series. The new JAMA paper gives us, if not a smoking gun, a pretty decent set of fingerprints.
Here’s the idea: If CAA is caused by some infectious agent, it may be transmitted in the blood. We know that a decent percentage of people who have spontaneous brain bleeds have CAA. If those people donated blood in the past, maybe the people who received that blood would be at risk for brain bleeds too.
Of course, to really test that hypothesis, you’d need to know who every blood donor in a country was and every person who received that blood and all their subsequent diagnoses for basically their entire lives. No one has that kind of data, right?
Well, if you’ve been watching this space, you’ll know that a few countries do. Enter Sweden and Denmark, with their national electronic health record that captures all of this information, and much more, on every single person who lives or has lived in those countries since before 1970. Unbelievable.
So that’s exactly what the researchers, led by Jingchen Zhao at Karolinska (Sweden) University, did. They identified roughly 760,000 individuals in Sweden and 330,000 people in Denmark who had received a blood transfusion between 1970 and 2017.
Of course, most of those blood donors – 99% of them, actually – never went on to have any bleeding in the brain. It is a rare thing, fortunately.
But some of the donors did, on average within about 5 years of the time they donated blood. The researchers characterized each donor as either never having a brain bleed, having a single bleed, or having multiple bleeds. The latter is most strongly associated with CAA.
The big question: Would recipients who got blood from individuals who later on had brain bleeds, have brain bleeds themselves?
The answer is yes, though with an asterisk. You can see the results here. The risk of recipients having a brain bleed was lowest if the blood they received was from people who never had a brain bleed, higher if the individual had a single brain bleed, and highest if they got blood from a donor who would go on to have multiple brain bleeds.
All in all, individuals who received blood from someone who would later have multiple hemorrhages were three times more likely to themselves develop bleeds themselves. It’s fairly compelling evidence of a transmissible agent.
Of course, there are some potential confounders to consider here. Whose blood you get is not totally random. If, for example, people with type O blood are just more likely to have brain bleeds, then you could get results like this, as type O tends to donate to type O and both groups would have higher risk after donation. But the authors adjusted for blood type. They also adjusted for number of transfusions, calendar year, age, sex, and indication for transfusion.
Perhaps most compelling, and most clever, is that they used ischemic stroke as a negative control. Would people who received blood from someone who later had an ischemic stroke themselves be more likely to go on to have an ischemic stroke? No signal at all. It does not appear that there is a transmissible agent associated with ischemic stroke – only the brain bleeds.
I know what you’re thinking. What’s the agent? What’s the microbe, or virus, or prion, or toxin? The study gives us no insight there. These nationwide databases are awesome but they can only do so much. Because of the vagaries of medical coding and the difficulty of making the CAA diagnosis, the authors are using brain bleeds as a proxy here; we don’t even know for sure whether these were CAA-associated brain bleeds.
It’s also worth noting that there’s little we can do about this. None of the blood donors in this study had a brain bleed prior to donation; it’s not like we could screen people out of donating in the future. We have no test for whatever this agent is, if it even exists, nor do we have a potential treatment. Fortunately, whatever it is, it is extremely rare.
Still, this paper feels like a shot across the bow. At this point, the probability has shifted strongly away from CAA being a purely random disease and toward it being an infectious one. It may be time to round up some of the unusual suspects.
Dr. F. Perry Wilson is an associate professor of medicine and public health and director of Yale University’s Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator in New Haven, Conn. He reported no conflicts of interest.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
How do you tell if a condition is caused by an infection?
It seems like an obvious question, right? In the post–van Leeuwenhoek era we can look at whatever part of the body is diseased under a microscope and see microbes – you know, the usual suspects.
Except when we can’t. And there are plenty of cases where we can’t: where the microbe is too small to be seen without more advanced imaging techniques, like with viruses; or when the pathogen is sparsely populated or hard to culture, like Mycobacterium.
Finding out that a condition is the result of an infection is not only an exercise for 19th century physicians. After all, it was 2008 when Barry Marshall and Robin Warren won their Nobel Prize for proving that stomach ulcers, long thought to be due to “stress,” were actually caused by a tiny microbe called Helicobacter pylori.
And this week, we are looking at a study which, once again, begins to suggest that a condition thought to be more or less random – cerebral amyloid angiopathy – may actually be the result of an infectious disease.
We’re talking about this paper, appearing in JAMA, which is just a great example of old-fashioned shoe-leather epidemiology. But let’s get up to speed on cerebral amyloid angiopathy (CAA) first.
CAA is characterized by the deposition of amyloid protein in the brain. While there are some genetic causes, they are quite rare, and most cases are thought to be idiopathic. Recent analyses suggest that somewhere between 5% and 7% of cognitively normal older adults have CAA, but the rate is much higher among those with intracerebral hemorrhage – brain bleeds. In fact, CAA is the second-most common cause of bleeding in the brain, second only to severe hypertension.
An article in Nature highlights cases that seemed to develop after the administration of cadaveric pituitary hormone.
Other studies have shown potential transmission via dura mater grafts and neurosurgical instruments. But despite those clues, no infectious organism has been identified. Some have suggested that the long latent period and difficulty of finding a responsible microbe points to a prion-like disease not yet known. But these studies are more or less case series. The new JAMA paper gives us, if not a smoking gun, a pretty decent set of fingerprints.
Here’s the idea: If CAA is caused by some infectious agent, it may be transmitted in the blood. We know that a decent percentage of people who have spontaneous brain bleeds have CAA. If those people donated blood in the past, maybe the people who received that blood would be at risk for brain bleeds too.
Of course, to really test that hypothesis, you’d need to know who every blood donor in a country was and every person who received that blood and all their subsequent diagnoses for basically their entire lives. No one has that kind of data, right?
Well, if you’ve been watching this space, you’ll know that a few countries do. Enter Sweden and Denmark, with their national electronic health record that captures all of this information, and much more, on every single person who lives or has lived in those countries since before 1970. Unbelievable.
So that’s exactly what the researchers, led by Jingchen Zhao at Karolinska (Sweden) University, did. They identified roughly 760,000 individuals in Sweden and 330,000 people in Denmark who had received a blood transfusion between 1970 and 2017.
Of course, most of those blood donors – 99% of them, actually – never went on to have any bleeding in the brain. It is a rare thing, fortunately.
But some of the donors did, on average within about 5 years of the time they donated blood. The researchers characterized each donor as either never having a brain bleed, having a single bleed, or having multiple bleeds. The latter is most strongly associated with CAA.
The big question: Would recipients who got blood from individuals who later on had brain bleeds, have brain bleeds themselves?
The answer is yes, though with an asterisk. You can see the results here. The risk of recipients having a brain bleed was lowest if the blood they received was from people who never had a brain bleed, higher if the individual had a single brain bleed, and highest if they got blood from a donor who would go on to have multiple brain bleeds.
All in all, individuals who received blood from someone who would later have multiple hemorrhages were three times more likely to themselves develop bleeds themselves. It’s fairly compelling evidence of a transmissible agent.
Of course, there are some potential confounders to consider here. Whose blood you get is not totally random. If, for example, people with type O blood are just more likely to have brain bleeds, then you could get results like this, as type O tends to donate to type O and both groups would have higher risk after donation. But the authors adjusted for blood type. They also adjusted for number of transfusions, calendar year, age, sex, and indication for transfusion.
Perhaps most compelling, and most clever, is that they used ischemic stroke as a negative control. Would people who received blood from someone who later had an ischemic stroke themselves be more likely to go on to have an ischemic stroke? No signal at all. It does not appear that there is a transmissible agent associated with ischemic stroke – only the brain bleeds.
I know what you’re thinking. What’s the agent? What’s the microbe, or virus, or prion, or toxin? The study gives us no insight there. These nationwide databases are awesome but they can only do so much. Because of the vagaries of medical coding and the difficulty of making the CAA diagnosis, the authors are using brain bleeds as a proxy here; we don’t even know for sure whether these were CAA-associated brain bleeds.
It’s also worth noting that there’s little we can do about this. None of the blood donors in this study had a brain bleed prior to donation; it’s not like we could screen people out of donating in the future. We have no test for whatever this agent is, if it even exists, nor do we have a potential treatment. Fortunately, whatever it is, it is extremely rare.
Still, this paper feels like a shot across the bow. At this point, the probability has shifted strongly away from CAA being a purely random disease and toward it being an infectious one. It may be time to round up some of the unusual suspects.
Dr. F. Perry Wilson is an associate professor of medicine and public health and director of Yale University’s Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator in New Haven, Conn. He reported no conflicts of interest.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
How do you tell if a condition is caused by an infection?
It seems like an obvious question, right? In the post–van Leeuwenhoek era we can look at whatever part of the body is diseased under a microscope and see microbes – you know, the usual suspects.
Except when we can’t. And there are plenty of cases where we can’t: where the microbe is too small to be seen without more advanced imaging techniques, like with viruses; or when the pathogen is sparsely populated or hard to culture, like Mycobacterium.
Finding out that a condition is the result of an infection is not only an exercise for 19th century physicians. After all, it was 2008 when Barry Marshall and Robin Warren won their Nobel Prize for proving that stomach ulcers, long thought to be due to “stress,” were actually caused by a tiny microbe called Helicobacter pylori.
And this week, we are looking at a study which, once again, begins to suggest that a condition thought to be more or less random – cerebral amyloid angiopathy – may actually be the result of an infectious disease.
We’re talking about this paper, appearing in JAMA, which is just a great example of old-fashioned shoe-leather epidemiology. But let’s get up to speed on cerebral amyloid angiopathy (CAA) first.
CAA is characterized by the deposition of amyloid protein in the brain. While there are some genetic causes, they are quite rare, and most cases are thought to be idiopathic. Recent analyses suggest that somewhere between 5% and 7% of cognitively normal older adults have CAA, but the rate is much higher among those with intracerebral hemorrhage – brain bleeds. In fact, CAA is the second-most common cause of bleeding in the brain, second only to severe hypertension.
An article in Nature highlights cases that seemed to develop after the administration of cadaveric pituitary hormone.
Other studies have shown potential transmission via dura mater grafts and neurosurgical instruments. But despite those clues, no infectious organism has been identified. Some have suggested that the long latent period and difficulty of finding a responsible microbe points to a prion-like disease not yet known. But these studies are more or less case series. The new JAMA paper gives us, if not a smoking gun, a pretty decent set of fingerprints.
Here’s the idea: If CAA is caused by some infectious agent, it may be transmitted in the blood. We know that a decent percentage of people who have spontaneous brain bleeds have CAA. If those people donated blood in the past, maybe the people who received that blood would be at risk for brain bleeds too.
Of course, to really test that hypothesis, you’d need to know who every blood donor in a country was and every person who received that blood and all their subsequent diagnoses for basically their entire lives. No one has that kind of data, right?
Well, if you’ve been watching this space, you’ll know that a few countries do. Enter Sweden and Denmark, with their national electronic health record that captures all of this information, and much more, on every single person who lives or has lived in those countries since before 1970. Unbelievable.
So that’s exactly what the researchers, led by Jingchen Zhao at Karolinska (Sweden) University, did. They identified roughly 760,000 individuals in Sweden and 330,000 people in Denmark who had received a blood transfusion between 1970 and 2017.
Of course, most of those blood donors – 99% of them, actually – never went on to have any bleeding in the brain. It is a rare thing, fortunately.
But some of the donors did, on average within about 5 years of the time they donated blood. The researchers characterized each donor as either never having a brain bleed, having a single bleed, or having multiple bleeds. The latter is most strongly associated with CAA.
The big question: Would recipients who got blood from individuals who later on had brain bleeds, have brain bleeds themselves?
The answer is yes, though with an asterisk. You can see the results here. The risk of recipients having a brain bleed was lowest if the blood they received was from people who never had a brain bleed, higher if the individual had a single brain bleed, and highest if they got blood from a donor who would go on to have multiple brain bleeds.
All in all, individuals who received blood from someone who would later have multiple hemorrhages were three times more likely to themselves develop bleeds themselves. It’s fairly compelling evidence of a transmissible agent.
Of course, there are some potential confounders to consider here. Whose blood you get is not totally random. If, for example, people with type O blood are just more likely to have brain bleeds, then you could get results like this, as type O tends to donate to type O and both groups would have higher risk after donation. But the authors adjusted for blood type. They also adjusted for number of transfusions, calendar year, age, sex, and indication for transfusion.
Perhaps most compelling, and most clever, is that they used ischemic stroke as a negative control. Would people who received blood from someone who later had an ischemic stroke themselves be more likely to go on to have an ischemic stroke? No signal at all. It does not appear that there is a transmissible agent associated with ischemic stroke – only the brain bleeds.
I know what you’re thinking. What’s the agent? What’s the microbe, or virus, or prion, or toxin? The study gives us no insight there. These nationwide databases are awesome but they can only do so much. Because of the vagaries of medical coding and the difficulty of making the CAA diagnosis, the authors are using brain bleeds as a proxy here; we don’t even know for sure whether these were CAA-associated brain bleeds.
It’s also worth noting that there’s little we can do about this. None of the blood donors in this study had a brain bleed prior to donation; it’s not like we could screen people out of donating in the future. We have no test for whatever this agent is, if it even exists, nor do we have a potential treatment. Fortunately, whatever it is, it is extremely rare.
Still, this paper feels like a shot across the bow. At this point, the probability has shifted strongly away from CAA being a purely random disease and toward it being an infectious one. It may be time to round up some of the unusual suspects.
Dr. F. Perry Wilson is an associate professor of medicine and public health and director of Yale University’s Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator in New Haven, Conn. He reported no conflicts of interest.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Disenfranchised grief: What it looks like, where it goes
What happens to grief when those around you don’t understand it? Where does it go? How do you process it?
Disenfranchised grief, when someone or society more generally doesn’t see a loss as worthy of mourning, can deprive people of experiencing or processing their sadness. This grief, which may be triggered by the death of an ex-spouse, a pet, a failed adoption, can be painful and long-lasting.
Suzanne Cole, MD: ‘I didn’t feel the right to grieve’
During the COVID-19 pandemic, my little sister unexpectedly died. Though she was not one of the nearly 7 million people who died of the virus, in 2021 she became another type of statistic: one of the 109,699 people in the United State who died from a drug overdose. Hers was from fentanyl laced with methamphetamines.
Her death unraveled me. I felt deep guilt that I could not pull her from the sweeping current that had wrenched her from mainstream society into the underbelly of sex work and toward the solace of mind-altering drugs.
But I did not feel the right to grieve for her as I have grieved for other loved ones who were not blamed for their exit from this world. My sister was living a sordid life on the fringes of society. My grief felt invalid, undeserved. Yet, in the eyes of other “upstanding citizens,” her life was not as worth grieving – or so I thought. I tucked my sorrow into a small corner of my soul so no one would see, and I carried on.
To this day, the shame I feel robbed me of the ability to freely talk about her or share the searing pain I feel. Tears still prick my eyes when I think of her, but I have become adept at swallowing them, shaking off the waves of grief as though nothing happened. Even now, I cannot shake the pervasive feeling that my silent tears don’t deserve to be wept.
Don S. Dizon, MD: Working through tragedy
As a medical student, I worked with an outpatient physician as part of a third-year rotation. When we met, the first thing that struck me was how disheveled he looked. His clothes were wrinkled, and his pants were baggy. He took cigarette breaks, which I found disturbing.
But I quickly came to admire him. Despite my first impression, he was the type of doctor I aspired to be. He didn’t need to look at a patient’s chart to recall who they were. He just knew them. He greeted patients warmly, asked about their family. He even remembered the special occasions his patients had mentioned since their past visit. He epitomized empathy and connectedness.
Spending one day in clinic brought to light the challenges of forming such bonds with patients. A man came into the cancer clinic reporting chest pain and was triaged to an exam room. Soon after, the patient was found unresponsive on the floor. Nurses were yelling for help, and the doctor ran in and started CPR while minutes ticked by waiting for an ambulance that could take him to the ED.
By the time help arrived, the patient was blue.
He had died in the clinic in the middle of the day, as the waiting room filled. After the body was taken away, the doctor went into the bathroom. About 20 minutes later, he came out, eyes bloodshot, and continued with the rest of his day, ensuring each patient was seen and cared for.
As a medical student, it hit me how hard it must be to see something so tragic like the end of a life and then continue with your day as if nothing had happened. This is an experience of grief I later came to know well after nearly 30 years treating patients with advanced cancers: compartmentalizing it and carrying on.
A space for grieving: The Schwartz Center Rounds
Disenfranchised grief, the grief that is hard to share and often seems wrong to feel in the first place, can be triggered in many situations. Losing a person others don’t believe deserve to be grieved, such as an abusive partner or someone who committed a crime; losing someone you cared for in a professional role; a loss experienced in a breakup or same-sex partnership, if that relationship was not accepted by one’s family; loss from infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, or failed adoption; loss that may be taboo or stigmatized, such as deaths via suicide or abortion; and loss of a job, home, or possession that you treasure.
Many of us have had similar situations or will, and the feeling that no one understands the need to mourn can be paralyzing and alienating. In the early days, intense, crushing feelings can cause intrusive, distracting thoughts, and over time, that grief can linger and find a permanent place in our minds.
More and more, though, we are being given opportunities to reflect on these sad moments.
The Schwartz Rounds are an example of such an opportunity. In these rounds, we gather to talk about the experience of caring for people, not the science of medicine.
During one particularly powerful rounds, I spoke to my colleagues about my initial meeting with a patient who was very sick. I detailed the experience of telling her children and her at that initial consult how I thought she was dying and that I did not recommend therapy. I remember how they cried. And I remembered how powerless I felt.
As I recalled that memory during Schwartz Rounds, I could not stop from crying. The unfairness of being a physician meeting someone for the first time and having to tell them such bad news overwhelmed me.
Even more poignant, I had the chance to reconnect with this woman’s children, who were present that day, not as audience members but as participants. Their presence may have brought my emotions to the surface more strongly. In that moment, I could show them the feelings I had bottled up for the sake of professionalism. Ultimately, I felt relieved, freer somehow, as if this burden my soul was carrying had been lifted.
Although we are both grateful for forums like this, these opportunities to share and express the grief we may have hidden away are not as common as they should be.
As physicians, we may express grief by shedding tears at the bedside of a patient nearing the end of life or through the anxiety we feel when our patient suffers a severe reaction to treatment. But we tend to put it away, to go on with our day, because there are others to be seen and cared for and more work to be done. Somehow, we move forward, shedding tears in one room and celebrating victories in another.
We need to create more spaces to express and feel grief, so we don’t get lost in it. Because understanding how grief impacts us, as people and as providers, is one of the most important realizations we can make as we go about our time-honored profession as healers.
Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute, director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, and a professor of medicine at Brown University, all in Providence. He reported conflicts of interest with Regeneron, AstraZeneca, Clovis, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and Kazia.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
What happens to grief when those around you don’t understand it? Where does it go? How do you process it?
Disenfranchised grief, when someone or society more generally doesn’t see a loss as worthy of mourning, can deprive people of experiencing or processing their sadness. This grief, which may be triggered by the death of an ex-spouse, a pet, a failed adoption, can be painful and long-lasting.
Suzanne Cole, MD: ‘I didn’t feel the right to grieve’
During the COVID-19 pandemic, my little sister unexpectedly died. Though she was not one of the nearly 7 million people who died of the virus, in 2021 she became another type of statistic: one of the 109,699 people in the United State who died from a drug overdose. Hers was from fentanyl laced with methamphetamines.
Her death unraveled me. I felt deep guilt that I could not pull her from the sweeping current that had wrenched her from mainstream society into the underbelly of sex work and toward the solace of mind-altering drugs.
But I did not feel the right to grieve for her as I have grieved for other loved ones who were not blamed for their exit from this world. My sister was living a sordid life on the fringes of society. My grief felt invalid, undeserved. Yet, in the eyes of other “upstanding citizens,” her life was not as worth grieving – or so I thought. I tucked my sorrow into a small corner of my soul so no one would see, and I carried on.
To this day, the shame I feel robbed me of the ability to freely talk about her or share the searing pain I feel. Tears still prick my eyes when I think of her, but I have become adept at swallowing them, shaking off the waves of grief as though nothing happened. Even now, I cannot shake the pervasive feeling that my silent tears don’t deserve to be wept.
Don S. Dizon, MD: Working through tragedy
As a medical student, I worked with an outpatient physician as part of a third-year rotation. When we met, the first thing that struck me was how disheveled he looked. His clothes were wrinkled, and his pants were baggy. He took cigarette breaks, which I found disturbing.
But I quickly came to admire him. Despite my first impression, he was the type of doctor I aspired to be. He didn’t need to look at a patient’s chart to recall who they were. He just knew them. He greeted patients warmly, asked about their family. He even remembered the special occasions his patients had mentioned since their past visit. He epitomized empathy and connectedness.
Spending one day in clinic brought to light the challenges of forming such bonds with patients. A man came into the cancer clinic reporting chest pain and was triaged to an exam room. Soon after, the patient was found unresponsive on the floor. Nurses were yelling for help, and the doctor ran in and started CPR while minutes ticked by waiting for an ambulance that could take him to the ED.
By the time help arrived, the patient was blue.
He had died in the clinic in the middle of the day, as the waiting room filled. After the body was taken away, the doctor went into the bathroom. About 20 minutes later, he came out, eyes bloodshot, and continued with the rest of his day, ensuring each patient was seen and cared for.
As a medical student, it hit me how hard it must be to see something so tragic like the end of a life and then continue with your day as if nothing had happened. This is an experience of grief I later came to know well after nearly 30 years treating patients with advanced cancers: compartmentalizing it and carrying on.
A space for grieving: The Schwartz Center Rounds
Disenfranchised grief, the grief that is hard to share and often seems wrong to feel in the first place, can be triggered in many situations. Losing a person others don’t believe deserve to be grieved, such as an abusive partner or someone who committed a crime; losing someone you cared for in a professional role; a loss experienced in a breakup or same-sex partnership, if that relationship was not accepted by one’s family; loss from infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, or failed adoption; loss that may be taboo or stigmatized, such as deaths via suicide or abortion; and loss of a job, home, or possession that you treasure.
Many of us have had similar situations or will, and the feeling that no one understands the need to mourn can be paralyzing and alienating. In the early days, intense, crushing feelings can cause intrusive, distracting thoughts, and over time, that grief can linger and find a permanent place in our minds.
More and more, though, we are being given opportunities to reflect on these sad moments.
The Schwartz Rounds are an example of such an opportunity. In these rounds, we gather to talk about the experience of caring for people, not the science of medicine.
During one particularly powerful rounds, I spoke to my colleagues about my initial meeting with a patient who was very sick. I detailed the experience of telling her children and her at that initial consult how I thought she was dying and that I did not recommend therapy. I remember how they cried. And I remembered how powerless I felt.
As I recalled that memory during Schwartz Rounds, I could not stop from crying. The unfairness of being a physician meeting someone for the first time and having to tell them such bad news overwhelmed me.
Even more poignant, I had the chance to reconnect with this woman’s children, who were present that day, not as audience members but as participants. Their presence may have brought my emotions to the surface more strongly. In that moment, I could show them the feelings I had bottled up for the sake of professionalism. Ultimately, I felt relieved, freer somehow, as if this burden my soul was carrying had been lifted.
Although we are both grateful for forums like this, these opportunities to share and express the grief we may have hidden away are not as common as they should be.
As physicians, we may express grief by shedding tears at the bedside of a patient nearing the end of life or through the anxiety we feel when our patient suffers a severe reaction to treatment. But we tend to put it away, to go on with our day, because there are others to be seen and cared for and more work to be done. Somehow, we move forward, shedding tears in one room and celebrating victories in another.
We need to create more spaces to express and feel grief, so we don’t get lost in it. Because understanding how grief impacts us, as people and as providers, is one of the most important realizations we can make as we go about our time-honored profession as healers.
Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute, director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, and a professor of medicine at Brown University, all in Providence. He reported conflicts of interest with Regeneron, AstraZeneca, Clovis, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and Kazia.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
What happens to grief when those around you don’t understand it? Where does it go? How do you process it?
Disenfranchised grief, when someone or society more generally doesn’t see a loss as worthy of mourning, can deprive people of experiencing or processing their sadness. This grief, which may be triggered by the death of an ex-spouse, a pet, a failed adoption, can be painful and long-lasting.
Suzanne Cole, MD: ‘I didn’t feel the right to grieve’
During the COVID-19 pandemic, my little sister unexpectedly died. Though she was not one of the nearly 7 million people who died of the virus, in 2021 she became another type of statistic: one of the 109,699 people in the United State who died from a drug overdose. Hers was from fentanyl laced with methamphetamines.
Her death unraveled me. I felt deep guilt that I could not pull her from the sweeping current that had wrenched her from mainstream society into the underbelly of sex work and toward the solace of mind-altering drugs.
But I did not feel the right to grieve for her as I have grieved for other loved ones who were not blamed for their exit from this world. My sister was living a sordid life on the fringes of society. My grief felt invalid, undeserved. Yet, in the eyes of other “upstanding citizens,” her life was not as worth grieving – or so I thought. I tucked my sorrow into a small corner of my soul so no one would see, and I carried on.
To this day, the shame I feel robbed me of the ability to freely talk about her or share the searing pain I feel. Tears still prick my eyes when I think of her, but I have become adept at swallowing them, shaking off the waves of grief as though nothing happened. Even now, I cannot shake the pervasive feeling that my silent tears don’t deserve to be wept.
Don S. Dizon, MD: Working through tragedy
As a medical student, I worked with an outpatient physician as part of a third-year rotation. When we met, the first thing that struck me was how disheveled he looked. His clothes were wrinkled, and his pants were baggy. He took cigarette breaks, which I found disturbing.
But I quickly came to admire him. Despite my first impression, he was the type of doctor I aspired to be. He didn’t need to look at a patient’s chart to recall who they were. He just knew them. He greeted patients warmly, asked about their family. He even remembered the special occasions his patients had mentioned since their past visit. He epitomized empathy and connectedness.
Spending one day in clinic brought to light the challenges of forming such bonds with patients. A man came into the cancer clinic reporting chest pain and was triaged to an exam room. Soon after, the patient was found unresponsive on the floor. Nurses were yelling for help, and the doctor ran in and started CPR while minutes ticked by waiting for an ambulance that could take him to the ED.
By the time help arrived, the patient was blue.
He had died in the clinic in the middle of the day, as the waiting room filled. After the body was taken away, the doctor went into the bathroom. About 20 minutes later, he came out, eyes bloodshot, and continued with the rest of his day, ensuring each patient was seen and cared for.
As a medical student, it hit me how hard it must be to see something so tragic like the end of a life and then continue with your day as if nothing had happened. This is an experience of grief I later came to know well after nearly 30 years treating patients with advanced cancers: compartmentalizing it and carrying on.
A space for grieving: The Schwartz Center Rounds
Disenfranchised grief, the grief that is hard to share and often seems wrong to feel in the first place, can be triggered in many situations. Losing a person others don’t believe deserve to be grieved, such as an abusive partner or someone who committed a crime; losing someone you cared for in a professional role; a loss experienced in a breakup or same-sex partnership, if that relationship was not accepted by one’s family; loss from infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, or failed adoption; loss that may be taboo or stigmatized, such as deaths via suicide or abortion; and loss of a job, home, or possession that you treasure.
Many of us have had similar situations or will, and the feeling that no one understands the need to mourn can be paralyzing and alienating. In the early days, intense, crushing feelings can cause intrusive, distracting thoughts, and over time, that grief can linger and find a permanent place in our minds.
More and more, though, we are being given opportunities to reflect on these sad moments.
The Schwartz Rounds are an example of such an opportunity. In these rounds, we gather to talk about the experience of caring for people, not the science of medicine.
During one particularly powerful rounds, I spoke to my colleagues about my initial meeting with a patient who was very sick. I detailed the experience of telling her children and her at that initial consult how I thought she was dying and that I did not recommend therapy. I remember how they cried. And I remembered how powerless I felt.
As I recalled that memory during Schwartz Rounds, I could not stop from crying. The unfairness of being a physician meeting someone for the first time and having to tell them such bad news overwhelmed me.
Even more poignant, I had the chance to reconnect with this woman’s children, who were present that day, not as audience members but as participants. Their presence may have brought my emotions to the surface more strongly. In that moment, I could show them the feelings I had bottled up for the sake of professionalism. Ultimately, I felt relieved, freer somehow, as if this burden my soul was carrying had been lifted.
Although we are both grateful for forums like this, these opportunities to share and express the grief we may have hidden away are not as common as they should be.
As physicians, we may express grief by shedding tears at the bedside of a patient nearing the end of life or through the anxiety we feel when our patient suffers a severe reaction to treatment. But we tend to put it away, to go on with our day, because there are others to be seen and cared for and more work to be done. Somehow, we move forward, shedding tears in one room and celebrating victories in another.
We need to create more spaces to express and feel grief, so we don’t get lost in it. Because understanding how grief impacts us, as people and as providers, is one of the most important realizations we can make as we go about our time-honored profession as healers.
Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute, director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, and a professor of medicine at Brown University, all in Providence. He reported conflicts of interest with Regeneron, AstraZeneca, Clovis, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and Kazia.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Universal anxiety screening recommendation is a good start
A very good thing happened this summer for patients with anxiety and the psychiatrists, psychologists, and other mental health professionals who provide treatment for them. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force recommended anxiety screening for all adults younger than 65.
On the surface, this is a great recommendation for recognition and caring for those who deal with and suffer from an anxiety disorder or multiple anxiety disorders. Although the USPSTF recommendations are independent of the U.S. government and are not an official position of the Department of Health & Human Services, they are a wonderful start at recognizing the importance of mental health care.
After all, anxiety disorders are the most commonly experienced and diagnosed mental disorders, according to the DSM-5.
They range mainly from generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), to panic attacks and panic disorder, separation anxiety, specific type phobias (bridges, tunnels, insects, snakes, and the list goes on), to other phobias, including agoraphobia, social phobia, and of course, anxiety caused by medical conditions. GAD alone occurs in, at least, more than 3% of the population.
Those of us who have been treating anxiety disorders for decades recognize them as an issue affecting both mental and physical well-being, not only because of the emotional causes but the physical distress and illnesses that anxiety may precipitate or worsen.
For example, blood pressure– and heart-related issues, GI disorders, and musculoskeletal issues are just a few examples of how our bodies and organ systems are affected by anxiety. Just the momentary physical symptoms of tachycardia or the “runs” before an exam are fine examples of how anxiety may affect patients physically, and an ongoing, consistent anxiety is potentially more harmful.
In fact, a first panic attack or episode of generalized anxiety may be so serious that an emergency department or physician visit is necessary to rule out a heart attack, asthma, or breathing issues – even a hormone or thyroid emergency, or a cardiac arrhythmia. Panic attacks alone create a high number of ED visits.
Treatments mainly include medication management and a variety of psychotherapy techniques. Currently, the most preferred, first-choice medications are the SSRI antidepressants, which are Food and Drug Administration approved for anxiety as well. These include Zoloft (sertraline), Prozac/Sarafem (fluoxetine), Celexa (citalopram), and Lexapro (escitalopram).
For many years, benzodiazepines (that is, tranquillizers) such as Valium (diazepam), Ativan (lorazepam), and Klonopin/Rivotril (clonazepam) to name a few, were the mainstay of anxiety treatment, but they have proven addictive and may affect cognition and memory. As the current opioid epidemic has shown, when combined with opioids, benzodiazepines are a potentially lethal combination and when used, they need to be for shorter-term care and monitored very judiciously.
It should be noted that after ongoing long-term use of an SSRI for anxiety or depression, it should not be stopped abruptly, as a variety of physical symptoms (for example, flu-like symptoms) may occur.
Benefits of nonmedicinal therapies
There are a variety of talk therapies, from dynamic psychotherapies to cognitive-behavioral therapies (CBT), plus relaxation techniques and guided imagery that have all had a good amount of success in treating generalized anxiety, panic disorder, as well as various types of phobias.
When medications are stopped, the anxiety symptoms may well return. But when using nonmedicinal therapies, clinicians have discovered that when patients develop a new perspective on the anxiety problem or have a new technique to treat anxiety, it may well be long lasting.
For me, using CBT, relaxation techniques, hypnosis, and guided imagery has been very successful in treating anxiety disorders with long-lasting results. Once a person learns to relax, whether it’s from deep breathing exercises, hypnosis (which is not sleep), mindfulness, or meditation, a strategy of guided imagery can be taught, which allows a person to practice as well as control their anxiety as a lifetime process. For example, I like imagining a large movie screen to desensitize and project anxieties.
In many instances, a combination of a medication and a talk therapy approach works best, but there are an equal number of instances in which just medication or just talk therapy is needed. Once again, knowledge, clinical judgment, and the art of care are required to make these assessments.
In other words, recognizing and treating anxiety requires highly specialized training, which is why I thought the USPSTF recommendations raise a few critical questions.
Questions and concerns
One issue, of course, is the exclusion of those patients over age 65 because of a lack of “data.” Why such an exclusion? Does this mean that data are lacking for this age group?
The concept of using solely evidenced-based data in psychiatry is itself an interesting concept because our profession, like many other medical specialties, requires practitioners to use a combination of art and science. And much can be said either way about the clarity of accuracy in the diversity of issues that arise when treating emotional disorders.
When looking at the over-65 population, has anyone thought of clinical knowledge, judgment, experience, observation, and, of course, common sense?
Just consider the worry (a cardinal feature of anxiety) that besets people over 65 when it comes to issues such as retirement, financial security, “empty nesting,” physical health issues, decreased socialization that resulted from the COVID-19 pandemic, and the perpetual loss of relatives and friends.
In addition, as we age, anxiety can come simply from the loss of identity as active lifestyles decrease and the reality of nearing life’s end becomes more of a reality. It would seem that this population would benefit enormously from anxiety screening and possible treatment.
Another major concern is that the screening and potential treatment of patients is aimed at primary care physicians. Putting the sole responsibility of providing mental health care on these overworked PCPs defies common sense unless we’re okay with 1- to 2-minute assessments of mental health issues and no doubt, a pharmacology-only approach.
If this follows the same route as well-intentioned PCPs treating depression, where 5-minute medication management is far too common, the only proper diagnostic course – the in-depth interview necessary to make a proper diagnosis – is often missing.
For example, in depression alone, it takes psychiatric experience and time to differentiate a major depressive disorder from a bipolar depression and to provide the appropriate medication and treatment plan with careful follow-up. In my experience, this usually does not happen in the exceedingly overworked, time-driven day of a PCP.
Anxiety disorders and depression can prove debilitating, and if a PCP wants the responsibility of treatment, a mandated mental health program should be followed – just as here in New York, prescribers are mandated to take a pain control, opioid, and infection control CME course to keep our licenses up to date.
Short of mandating a mental health program for PCPs, it should be part of training and CME courses that Psychiatry is a super specialty, much like orthopedics and ophthalmology, and primary care physicians should never hesitate to make referrals to the specialist.
The big picture for me, and I hope for us all, is that the USPSTF has started things rolling by making it clear that PCPs and other health care clinicians need to screen for anxiety as a disabling disorder that is quite treatable.
This approach will help to advance the destigmatization of mental health disorders. But as result, with more patients diagnosed, there will be a need for more psychiatrists – and psychologists with PhDs or PsyDs – to fill the gaps in mental health care.
Dr. London is a practicing psychiatrist and has been a newspaper columnist for 35 years, specializing in and writing about short-term therapy, including cognitive-behavioral therapy and guided imagery. He is author of “Find Freedom Fast” (New York: Kettlehole Publishing, 2019). He has no conflicts of interest.
A very good thing happened this summer for patients with anxiety and the psychiatrists, psychologists, and other mental health professionals who provide treatment for them. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force recommended anxiety screening for all adults younger than 65.
On the surface, this is a great recommendation for recognition and caring for those who deal with and suffer from an anxiety disorder or multiple anxiety disorders. Although the USPSTF recommendations are independent of the U.S. government and are not an official position of the Department of Health & Human Services, they are a wonderful start at recognizing the importance of mental health care.
After all, anxiety disorders are the most commonly experienced and diagnosed mental disorders, according to the DSM-5.
They range mainly from generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), to panic attacks and panic disorder, separation anxiety, specific type phobias (bridges, tunnels, insects, snakes, and the list goes on), to other phobias, including agoraphobia, social phobia, and of course, anxiety caused by medical conditions. GAD alone occurs in, at least, more than 3% of the population.
Those of us who have been treating anxiety disorders for decades recognize them as an issue affecting both mental and physical well-being, not only because of the emotional causes but the physical distress and illnesses that anxiety may precipitate or worsen.
For example, blood pressure– and heart-related issues, GI disorders, and musculoskeletal issues are just a few examples of how our bodies and organ systems are affected by anxiety. Just the momentary physical symptoms of tachycardia or the “runs” before an exam are fine examples of how anxiety may affect patients physically, and an ongoing, consistent anxiety is potentially more harmful.
In fact, a first panic attack or episode of generalized anxiety may be so serious that an emergency department or physician visit is necessary to rule out a heart attack, asthma, or breathing issues – even a hormone or thyroid emergency, or a cardiac arrhythmia. Panic attacks alone create a high number of ED visits.
Treatments mainly include medication management and a variety of psychotherapy techniques. Currently, the most preferred, first-choice medications are the SSRI antidepressants, which are Food and Drug Administration approved for anxiety as well. These include Zoloft (sertraline), Prozac/Sarafem (fluoxetine), Celexa (citalopram), and Lexapro (escitalopram).
For many years, benzodiazepines (that is, tranquillizers) such as Valium (diazepam), Ativan (lorazepam), and Klonopin/Rivotril (clonazepam) to name a few, were the mainstay of anxiety treatment, but they have proven addictive and may affect cognition and memory. As the current opioid epidemic has shown, when combined with opioids, benzodiazepines are a potentially lethal combination and when used, they need to be for shorter-term care and monitored very judiciously.
It should be noted that after ongoing long-term use of an SSRI for anxiety or depression, it should not be stopped abruptly, as a variety of physical symptoms (for example, flu-like symptoms) may occur.
Benefits of nonmedicinal therapies
There are a variety of talk therapies, from dynamic psychotherapies to cognitive-behavioral therapies (CBT), plus relaxation techniques and guided imagery that have all had a good amount of success in treating generalized anxiety, panic disorder, as well as various types of phobias.
When medications are stopped, the anxiety symptoms may well return. But when using nonmedicinal therapies, clinicians have discovered that when patients develop a new perspective on the anxiety problem or have a new technique to treat anxiety, it may well be long lasting.
For me, using CBT, relaxation techniques, hypnosis, and guided imagery has been very successful in treating anxiety disorders with long-lasting results. Once a person learns to relax, whether it’s from deep breathing exercises, hypnosis (which is not sleep), mindfulness, or meditation, a strategy of guided imagery can be taught, which allows a person to practice as well as control their anxiety as a lifetime process. For example, I like imagining a large movie screen to desensitize and project anxieties.
In many instances, a combination of a medication and a talk therapy approach works best, but there are an equal number of instances in which just medication or just talk therapy is needed. Once again, knowledge, clinical judgment, and the art of care are required to make these assessments.
In other words, recognizing and treating anxiety requires highly specialized training, which is why I thought the USPSTF recommendations raise a few critical questions.
Questions and concerns
One issue, of course, is the exclusion of those patients over age 65 because of a lack of “data.” Why such an exclusion? Does this mean that data are lacking for this age group?
The concept of using solely evidenced-based data in psychiatry is itself an interesting concept because our profession, like many other medical specialties, requires practitioners to use a combination of art and science. And much can be said either way about the clarity of accuracy in the diversity of issues that arise when treating emotional disorders.
When looking at the over-65 population, has anyone thought of clinical knowledge, judgment, experience, observation, and, of course, common sense?
Just consider the worry (a cardinal feature of anxiety) that besets people over 65 when it comes to issues such as retirement, financial security, “empty nesting,” physical health issues, decreased socialization that resulted from the COVID-19 pandemic, and the perpetual loss of relatives and friends.
In addition, as we age, anxiety can come simply from the loss of identity as active lifestyles decrease and the reality of nearing life’s end becomes more of a reality. It would seem that this population would benefit enormously from anxiety screening and possible treatment.
Another major concern is that the screening and potential treatment of patients is aimed at primary care physicians. Putting the sole responsibility of providing mental health care on these overworked PCPs defies common sense unless we’re okay with 1- to 2-minute assessments of mental health issues and no doubt, a pharmacology-only approach.
If this follows the same route as well-intentioned PCPs treating depression, where 5-minute medication management is far too common, the only proper diagnostic course – the in-depth interview necessary to make a proper diagnosis – is often missing.
For example, in depression alone, it takes psychiatric experience and time to differentiate a major depressive disorder from a bipolar depression and to provide the appropriate medication and treatment plan with careful follow-up. In my experience, this usually does not happen in the exceedingly overworked, time-driven day of a PCP.
Anxiety disorders and depression can prove debilitating, and if a PCP wants the responsibility of treatment, a mandated mental health program should be followed – just as here in New York, prescribers are mandated to take a pain control, opioid, and infection control CME course to keep our licenses up to date.
Short of mandating a mental health program for PCPs, it should be part of training and CME courses that Psychiatry is a super specialty, much like orthopedics and ophthalmology, and primary care physicians should never hesitate to make referrals to the specialist.
The big picture for me, and I hope for us all, is that the USPSTF has started things rolling by making it clear that PCPs and other health care clinicians need to screen for anxiety as a disabling disorder that is quite treatable.
This approach will help to advance the destigmatization of mental health disorders. But as result, with more patients diagnosed, there will be a need for more psychiatrists – and psychologists with PhDs or PsyDs – to fill the gaps in mental health care.
Dr. London is a practicing psychiatrist and has been a newspaper columnist for 35 years, specializing in and writing about short-term therapy, including cognitive-behavioral therapy and guided imagery. He is author of “Find Freedom Fast” (New York: Kettlehole Publishing, 2019). He has no conflicts of interest.
A very good thing happened this summer for patients with anxiety and the psychiatrists, psychologists, and other mental health professionals who provide treatment for them. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force recommended anxiety screening for all adults younger than 65.
On the surface, this is a great recommendation for recognition and caring for those who deal with and suffer from an anxiety disorder or multiple anxiety disorders. Although the USPSTF recommendations are independent of the U.S. government and are not an official position of the Department of Health & Human Services, they are a wonderful start at recognizing the importance of mental health care.
After all, anxiety disorders are the most commonly experienced and diagnosed mental disorders, according to the DSM-5.
They range mainly from generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), to panic attacks and panic disorder, separation anxiety, specific type phobias (bridges, tunnels, insects, snakes, and the list goes on), to other phobias, including agoraphobia, social phobia, and of course, anxiety caused by medical conditions. GAD alone occurs in, at least, more than 3% of the population.
Those of us who have been treating anxiety disorders for decades recognize them as an issue affecting both mental and physical well-being, not only because of the emotional causes but the physical distress and illnesses that anxiety may precipitate or worsen.
For example, blood pressure– and heart-related issues, GI disorders, and musculoskeletal issues are just a few examples of how our bodies and organ systems are affected by anxiety. Just the momentary physical symptoms of tachycardia or the “runs” before an exam are fine examples of how anxiety may affect patients physically, and an ongoing, consistent anxiety is potentially more harmful.
In fact, a first panic attack or episode of generalized anxiety may be so serious that an emergency department or physician visit is necessary to rule out a heart attack, asthma, or breathing issues – even a hormone or thyroid emergency, or a cardiac arrhythmia. Panic attacks alone create a high number of ED visits.
Treatments mainly include medication management and a variety of psychotherapy techniques. Currently, the most preferred, first-choice medications are the SSRI antidepressants, which are Food and Drug Administration approved for anxiety as well. These include Zoloft (sertraline), Prozac/Sarafem (fluoxetine), Celexa (citalopram), and Lexapro (escitalopram).
For many years, benzodiazepines (that is, tranquillizers) such as Valium (diazepam), Ativan (lorazepam), and Klonopin/Rivotril (clonazepam) to name a few, were the mainstay of anxiety treatment, but they have proven addictive and may affect cognition and memory. As the current opioid epidemic has shown, when combined with opioids, benzodiazepines are a potentially lethal combination and when used, they need to be for shorter-term care and monitored very judiciously.
It should be noted that after ongoing long-term use of an SSRI for anxiety or depression, it should not be stopped abruptly, as a variety of physical symptoms (for example, flu-like symptoms) may occur.
Benefits of nonmedicinal therapies
There are a variety of talk therapies, from dynamic psychotherapies to cognitive-behavioral therapies (CBT), plus relaxation techniques and guided imagery that have all had a good amount of success in treating generalized anxiety, panic disorder, as well as various types of phobias.
When medications are stopped, the anxiety symptoms may well return. But when using nonmedicinal therapies, clinicians have discovered that when patients develop a new perspective on the anxiety problem or have a new technique to treat anxiety, it may well be long lasting.
For me, using CBT, relaxation techniques, hypnosis, and guided imagery has been very successful in treating anxiety disorders with long-lasting results. Once a person learns to relax, whether it’s from deep breathing exercises, hypnosis (which is not sleep), mindfulness, or meditation, a strategy of guided imagery can be taught, which allows a person to practice as well as control their anxiety as a lifetime process. For example, I like imagining a large movie screen to desensitize and project anxieties.
In many instances, a combination of a medication and a talk therapy approach works best, but there are an equal number of instances in which just medication or just talk therapy is needed. Once again, knowledge, clinical judgment, and the art of care are required to make these assessments.
In other words, recognizing and treating anxiety requires highly specialized training, which is why I thought the USPSTF recommendations raise a few critical questions.
Questions and concerns
One issue, of course, is the exclusion of those patients over age 65 because of a lack of “data.” Why such an exclusion? Does this mean that data are lacking for this age group?
The concept of using solely evidenced-based data in psychiatry is itself an interesting concept because our profession, like many other medical specialties, requires practitioners to use a combination of art and science. And much can be said either way about the clarity of accuracy in the diversity of issues that arise when treating emotional disorders.
When looking at the over-65 population, has anyone thought of clinical knowledge, judgment, experience, observation, and, of course, common sense?
Just consider the worry (a cardinal feature of anxiety) that besets people over 65 when it comes to issues such as retirement, financial security, “empty nesting,” physical health issues, decreased socialization that resulted from the COVID-19 pandemic, and the perpetual loss of relatives and friends.
In addition, as we age, anxiety can come simply from the loss of identity as active lifestyles decrease and the reality of nearing life’s end becomes more of a reality. It would seem that this population would benefit enormously from anxiety screening and possible treatment.
Another major concern is that the screening and potential treatment of patients is aimed at primary care physicians. Putting the sole responsibility of providing mental health care on these overworked PCPs defies common sense unless we’re okay with 1- to 2-minute assessments of mental health issues and no doubt, a pharmacology-only approach.
If this follows the same route as well-intentioned PCPs treating depression, where 5-minute medication management is far too common, the only proper diagnostic course – the in-depth interview necessary to make a proper diagnosis – is often missing.
For example, in depression alone, it takes psychiatric experience and time to differentiate a major depressive disorder from a bipolar depression and to provide the appropriate medication and treatment plan with careful follow-up. In my experience, this usually does not happen in the exceedingly overworked, time-driven day of a PCP.
Anxiety disorders and depression can prove debilitating, and if a PCP wants the responsibility of treatment, a mandated mental health program should be followed – just as here in New York, prescribers are mandated to take a pain control, opioid, and infection control CME course to keep our licenses up to date.
Short of mandating a mental health program for PCPs, it should be part of training and CME courses that Psychiatry is a super specialty, much like orthopedics and ophthalmology, and primary care physicians should never hesitate to make referrals to the specialist.
The big picture for me, and I hope for us all, is that the USPSTF has started things rolling by making it clear that PCPs and other health care clinicians need to screen for anxiety as a disabling disorder that is quite treatable.
This approach will help to advance the destigmatization of mental health disorders. But as result, with more patients diagnosed, there will be a need for more psychiatrists – and psychologists with PhDs or PsyDs – to fill the gaps in mental health care.
Dr. London is a practicing psychiatrist and has been a newspaper columnist for 35 years, specializing in and writing about short-term therapy, including cognitive-behavioral therapy and guided imagery. He is author of “Find Freedom Fast” (New York: Kettlehole Publishing, 2019). He has no conflicts of interest.
Should people who play sports pay higher medical insurance premiums?
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
If you’re anywhere near Seattle, anywhere near Florida, or anywhere where it might be not oppressively hot outside but encouraging some people who might want to go out and get a little exercise, you’ve undoubtedly seen or heard of pickleball.
This took off, I think, out of Bainbridge Island, Wash. It was meant as a gentlemanly game where people didn’t exert themselves too much. The joke is you could play it while holding a drink in one hand. It’s gotten more popular and more competitive. It’s kind of a miniature version of tennis, with a smaller court, a plastic ball, and a wooden paddle. The ball can go back and forth rapidly, but you’re always playing doubles and it doesn’t take as much energy, exertion, and, if you will, fitness as a game like singles tennis.
The upside is it’s gotten many people outdoors getting some exercise and socializing. That’s all to the good. But a recent study suggested that there are about $500 million worth of injuries coming into the health care system associated with pickleball. There have been leg sprains, broken bones, people getting hit in the eye, hamstring pulls, and many other problems. I’ve been told that many of the spectators who show up for pickleball matches are there with a cast or have some kind of a wrap on because they were injured.
Well, many people have argued in the past about what we are going to do about health care costs. Some suggest if you voluntarily incur health care damage, you ought to pay for that yourself and you ought to have a big copay.
If you decide you’re going to do cross-country skiing or downhill skiing and you injure yourself, you chose to do it, so you pay. If you’re not going to maintain your weight, you’re going to smoke, or you’re going to ride around without a helmet, that’s your choice. You ought to pay.
I think the pickleball example is really a good challenge to these views. You obviously want people to go out and get some exercise. Here, we’re talking about a population that’s a little older and oftentimes doesn’t get out there as much as doctors would like to get the exercise that’s still important that they need, and yet it does incur injuries and problems.
My suggestion would be to make the game a little safer. Let’s try to encourage people to warm up more before they get out there and jump out of the car and engage in their pickleball battles. Goggles might be important to prevent the eye injuries in a game that’s played up close. Maybe we want to make sure that people look out for one another out there. If they think they’re getting dehydrated or tired, they should say, “Let’s sit down.”
I’m not willing to put a tax or a copay on the pickleball players of America. I know they choose to do it. It’s got an upside and benefits, as many things like skiing and other behaviors that have some risk do, but I think we want to be encouraging, not discouraging, of it.
I don’t like a society where anybody who tries to do something that takes risk winds up bearing extra cost for doing that. I understand that that gets people irritated when it comes to dangerous, hyper-risky behavior like smoking and not wearing a motorcycle helmet. I think the way to engage is not to call out the sinner or to try and punish those who are trying to do things that bring them enjoyment, reward, or in some of these cases, physical fitness, but to try to make things safer and try to gradually improve and get rid of the risk side to capture the full benefit side.
I’m not sure I’ve come up with all the best ways to make pickleball safer, but I think that’s where our thinking in health care should go. My view is to get out there and play pickleball. If you do pull your hamstring, raise my insurance premium a little bit. I’ll help to pay for it. Better you get some enjoyment and some exercise.
I get the downside, but come on, folks, we ought to be, as a community, somewhat supportive of the fun and recreation that our fellow citizens engage in.
Dr. Caplan is director, division of medical ethics, New York University Langone Medical Center. He disclosed serving as a director, officer, partner, employee, adviser, consultant, or trustee for Johnson & Johnson’s Panel for Compassionate Drug Use (unpaid position); and as a contributing author and adviser for Medscape.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
If you’re anywhere near Seattle, anywhere near Florida, or anywhere where it might be not oppressively hot outside but encouraging some people who might want to go out and get a little exercise, you’ve undoubtedly seen or heard of pickleball.
This took off, I think, out of Bainbridge Island, Wash. It was meant as a gentlemanly game where people didn’t exert themselves too much. The joke is you could play it while holding a drink in one hand. It’s gotten more popular and more competitive. It’s kind of a miniature version of tennis, with a smaller court, a plastic ball, and a wooden paddle. The ball can go back and forth rapidly, but you’re always playing doubles and it doesn’t take as much energy, exertion, and, if you will, fitness as a game like singles tennis.
The upside is it’s gotten many people outdoors getting some exercise and socializing. That’s all to the good. But a recent study suggested that there are about $500 million worth of injuries coming into the health care system associated with pickleball. There have been leg sprains, broken bones, people getting hit in the eye, hamstring pulls, and many other problems. I’ve been told that many of the spectators who show up for pickleball matches are there with a cast or have some kind of a wrap on because they were injured.
Well, many people have argued in the past about what we are going to do about health care costs. Some suggest if you voluntarily incur health care damage, you ought to pay for that yourself and you ought to have a big copay.
If you decide you’re going to do cross-country skiing or downhill skiing and you injure yourself, you chose to do it, so you pay. If you’re not going to maintain your weight, you’re going to smoke, or you’re going to ride around without a helmet, that’s your choice. You ought to pay.
I think the pickleball example is really a good challenge to these views. You obviously want people to go out and get some exercise. Here, we’re talking about a population that’s a little older and oftentimes doesn’t get out there as much as doctors would like to get the exercise that’s still important that they need, and yet it does incur injuries and problems.
My suggestion would be to make the game a little safer. Let’s try to encourage people to warm up more before they get out there and jump out of the car and engage in their pickleball battles. Goggles might be important to prevent the eye injuries in a game that’s played up close. Maybe we want to make sure that people look out for one another out there. If they think they’re getting dehydrated or tired, they should say, “Let’s sit down.”
I’m not willing to put a tax or a copay on the pickleball players of America. I know they choose to do it. It’s got an upside and benefits, as many things like skiing and other behaviors that have some risk do, but I think we want to be encouraging, not discouraging, of it.
I don’t like a society where anybody who tries to do something that takes risk winds up bearing extra cost for doing that. I understand that that gets people irritated when it comes to dangerous, hyper-risky behavior like smoking and not wearing a motorcycle helmet. I think the way to engage is not to call out the sinner or to try and punish those who are trying to do things that bring them enjoyment, reward, or in some of these cases, physical fitness, but to try to make things safer and try to gradually improve and get rid of the risk side to capture the full benefit side.
I’m not sure I’ve come up with all the best ways to make pickleball safer, but I think that’s where our thinking in health care should go. My view is to get out there and play pickleball. If you do pull your hamstring, raise my insurance premium a little bit. I’ll help to pay for it. Better you get some enjoyment and some exercise.
I get the downside, but come on, folks, we ought to be, as a community, somewhat supportive of the fun and recreation that our fellow citizens engage in.
Dr. Caplan is director, division of medical ethics, New York University Langone Medical Center. He disclosed serving as a director, officer, partner, employee, adviser, consultant, or trustee for Johnson & Johnson’s Panel for Compassionate Drug Use (unpaid position); and as a contributing author and adviser for Medscape.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
If you’re anywhere near Seattle, anywhere near Florida, or anywhere where it might be not oppressively hot outside but encouraging some people who might want to go out and get a little exercise, you’ve undoubtedly seen or heard of pickleball.
This took off, I think, out of Bainbridge Island, Wash. It was meant as a gentlemanly game where people didn’t exert themselves too much. The joke is you could play it while holding a drink in one hand. It’s gotten more popular and more competitive. It’s kind of a miniature version of tennis, with a smaller court, a plastic ball, and a wooden paddle. The ball can go back and forth rapidly, but you’re always playing doubles and it doesn’t take as much energy, exertion, and, if you will, fitness as a game like singles tennis.
The upside is it’s gotten many people outdoors getting some exercise and socializing. That’s all to the good. But a recent study suggested that there are about $500 million worth of injuries coming into the health care system associated with pickleball. There have been leg sprains, broken bones, people getting hit in the eye, hamstring pulls, and many other problems. I’ve been told that many of the spectators who show up for pickleball matches are there with a cast or have some kind of a wrap on because they were injured.
Well, many people have argued in the past about what we are going to do about health care costs. Some suggest if you voluntarily incur health care damage, you ought to pay for that yourself and you ought to have a big copay.
If you decide you’re going to do cross-country skiing or downhill skiing and you injure yourself, you chose to do it, so you pay. If you’re not going to maintain your weight, you’re going to smoke, or you’re going to ride around without a helmet, that’s your choice. You ought to pay.
I think the pickleball example is really a good challenge to these views. You obviously want people to go out and get some exercise. Here, we’re talking about a population that’s a little older and oftentimes doesn’t get out there as much as doctors would like to get the exercise that’s still important that they need, and yet it does incur injuries and problems.
My suggestion would be to make the game a little safer. Let’s try to encourage people to warm up more before they get out there and jump out of the car and engage in their pickleball battles. Goggles might be important to prevent the eye injuries in a game that’s played up close. Maybe we want to make sure that people look out for one another out there. If they think they’re getting dehydrated or tired, they should say, “Let’s sit down.”
I’m not willing to put a tax or a copay on the pickleball players of America. I know they choose to do it. It’s got an upside and benefits, as many things like skiing and other behaviors that have some risk do, but I think we want to be encouraging, not discouraging, of it.
I don’t like a society where anybody who tries to do something that takes risk winds up bearing extra cost for doing that. I understand that that gets people irritated when it comes to dangerous, hyper-risky behavior like smoking and not wearing a motorcycle helmet. I think the way to engage is not to call out the sinner or to try and punish those who are trying to do things that bring them enjoyment, reward, or in some of these cases, physical fitness, but to try to make things safer and try to gradually improve and get rid of the risk side to capture the full benefit side.
I’m not sure I’ve come up with all the best ways to make pickleball safer, but I think that’s where our thinking in health care should go. My view is to get out there and play pickleball. If you do pull your hamstring, raise my insurance premium a little bit. I’ll help to pay for it. Better you get some enjoyment and some exercise.
I get the downside, but come on, folks, we ought to be, as a community, somewhat supportive of the fun and recreation that our fellow citizens engage in.
Dr. Caplan is director, division of medical ethics, New York University Langone Medical Center. He disclosed serving as a director, officer, partner, employee, adviser, consultant, or trustee for Johnson & Johnson’s Panel for Compassionate Drug Use (unpaid position); and as a contributing author and adviser for Medscape.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Barbie has an anxiety disorder
And it’s a great time to be a therapist
The Barbie movie is generating a lot of feelings, ranging from praise to vitriol. However one feels about the movie, let’s all pause and reflect for a moment on the fact that the number-one grossing film of 2023 is about our childhood doll trying to treat her anxiety disorder.
“Life imitates art more than art imitates life.” So said Oscar Wilde in 1889.
When my adult daughter, a childhood Barbie enthusiast, asked me to see the film, we put on pink and went. Twice. Little did I know that it would stir up so many thoughts and feelings. The one I want to share is how blessed I feel at this moment in time to be a mental health care provider! No longer is mental health something to be whispered about at the water cooler; instead, even Barbie is suffering. And with all the controversy in the press about the movie, no one seems at all surprised by this storyline.
I was raised by two child psychiatrists and have been practicing as an adult psychiatrist since 1991. The start of the pandemic was the most difficult time of my career, as almost every patient was struggling simultaneously, as was I. Three long years later, we are gradually emerging from our shared trauma. How ironic, now with the opportunity to go back to work, I have elected to maintain the majority of my practice online from home. It seems that most patients and providers prefer this mode of treatment, with a full 90 percent of practitioners saying they are using a hybrid model.
As mental health professionals, we know that anywhere from 3% to 49% of those experiencing trauma will develop posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and we have been trained to treat them.
But what happens when an entire global population is exposed simultaneously to trauma? Historians and social scientists refer to such events by many different names, such as: Singularity, Black Swan Event, and Tipping Point. These events are incredibly rare, and afterwards everything is different. These global traumas always lead to massive change.
I think we are at that tipping point. This is the singularity. This is our Black Swan Event. Within a 3-year span, we have experienced the following:
- A global traumatic event (COVID-19).
- A sudden and seemingly permanent shift from office to remote video meetings mostly from home.
- Upending of traditional fundamentals of the stock market as the game literally stopped in January 2021.
- Rapid and widespread availability of Artificial Intelligence.
- The first generation to be fully raised on the Internet and social media (Gen Z) is now entering the workforce.
- Ongoing war in Ukraine.
That’s already an overwhelming list, and I could go on, but let’s get back to Barbie’s anxiety disorder.
The awareness about and acceptance of mental health issues has never been higher. The access to treatment never greater. There are now more online therapy options than ever. Treatment options have dramatically expanded in recent years, from Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) to ketamine centers and psychedelics, as well as more mainstream options such as dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), and so many more.
What is particularly unique about this moment is the direct access to care. Self-help books abound with many making it to the New York Times bestseller list. YouTube is loaded with fantastic content on overcoming many mental health issues, although one should be careful with selecting reliable sources. Apps like HeadSpace and Calm are being downloaded by millions of people around the globe. Investors provided a record-breaking $1.5 billion to mental health startups in 2020 alone.
For most practitioners, our phones have been ringing off the hook since 2020. Applications to psychology, psychiatric residency, social work, and counseling degree programs are on the rise, with workforce shortages expected to continue for decades. Psychological expertise has been embraced by businesses especially for DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion). Mental health experts are the most asked-for experts through media request services. Elite athletes are talking openly about bringing us on their teams.
In this unique moment, when everything seems set to transform into something else, it is time for mental health professionals to exert some agency and influence over where mental health will go from here. I think the next frontier for mental health specialists is to figure out how to speak collectively and help guide society.
Neil Howe, in his sweeping book “The Fourth Turning is Here,” says we have another 10 years in this “Millennial Crisis” phase. He calls this our “winter,” and it remains to be seen how we will emerge from our current challenges. I think we can make a difference.
If the Barbie movie is indeed a canary in the coal mine, I see positive trends ahead as we move past some of the societal and structural issues facing us, and work together to create a more open and egalitarian society. We must find creative solutions that will solve truly massive problems threatening our well-being and perhaps even our existence.
I am so grateful to be able to continue to practice and share my thoughts with you here from my home office, and I hope you can take a break and see this movie, which is not only entertaining but also thought- and emotion-provoking.
Dr. Ritvo has almost 30 years’ experience in psychiatry and is currently practicing telemedicine. She is the author of “Bekindr – The Transformative Power of Kindness” (Hellertown, Pa.: Momosa Publishing, 2018). She has no conflicts of interest.
And it’s a great time to be a therapist
And it’s a great time to be a therapist
The Barbie movie is generating a lot of feelings, ranging from praise to vitriol. However one feels about the movie, let’s all pause and reflect for a moment on the fact that the number-one grossing film of 2023 is about our childhood doll trying to treat her anxiety disorder.
“Life imitates art more than art imitates life.” So said Oscar Wilde in 1889.
When my adult daughter, a childhood Barbie enthusiast, asked me to see the film, we put on pink and went. Twice. Little did I know that it would stir up so many thoughts and feelings. The one I want to share is how blessed I feel at this moment in time to be a mental health care provider! No longer is mental health something to be whispered about at the water cooler; instead, even Barbie is suffering. And with all the controversy in the press about the movie, no one seems at all surprised by this storyline.
I was raised by two child psychiatrists and have been practicing as an adult psychiatrist since 1991. The start of the pandemic was the most difficult time of my career, as almost every patient was struggling simultaneously, as was I. Three long years later, we are gradually emerging from our shared trauma. How ironic, now with the opportunity to go back to work, I have elected to maintain the majority of my practice online from home. It seems that most patients and providers prefer this mode of treatment, with a full 90 percent of practitioners saying they are using a hybrid model.
As mental health professionals, we know that anywhere from 3% to 49% of those experiencing trauma will develop posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and we have been trained to treat them.
But what happens when an entire global population is exposed simultaneously to trauma? Historians and social scientists refer to such events by many different names, such as: Singularity, Black Swan Event, and Tipping Point. These events are incredibly rare, and afterwards everything is different. These global traumas always lead to massive change.
I think we are at that tipping point. This is the singularity. This is our Black Swan Event. Within a 3-year span, we have experienced the following:
- A global traumatic event (COVID-19).
- A sudden and seemingly permanent shift from office to remote video meetings mostly from home.
- Upending of traditional fundamentals of the stock market as the game literally stopped in January 2021.
- Rapid and widespread availability of Artificial Intelligence.
- The first generation to be fully raised on the Internet and social media (Gen Z) is now entering the workforce.
- Ongoing war in Ukraine.
That’s already an overwhelming list, and I could go on, but let’s get back to Barbie’s anxiety disorder.
The awareness about and acceptance of mental health issues has never been higher. The access to treatment never greater. There are now more online therapy options than ever. Treatment options have dramatically expanded in recent years, from Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) to ketamine centers and psychedelics, as well as more mainstream options such as dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), and so many more.
What is particularly unique about this moment is the direct access to care. Self-help books abound with many making it to the New York Times bestseller list. YouTube is loaded with fantastic content on overcoming many mental health issues, although one should be careful with selecting reliable sources. Apps like HeadSpace and Calm are being downloaded by millions of people around the globe. Investors provided a record-breaking $1.5 billion to mental health startups in 2020 alone.
For most practitioners, our phones have been ringing off the hook since 2020. Applications to psychology, psychiatric residency, social work, and counseling degree programs are on the rise, with workforce shortages expected to continue for decades. Psychological expertise has been embraced by businesses especially for DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion). Mental health experts are the most asked-for experts through media request services. Elite athletes are talking openly about bringing us on their teams.
In this unique moment, when everything seems set to transform into something else, it is time for mental health professionals to exert some agency and influence over where mental health will go from here. I think the next frontier for mental health specialists is to figure out how to speak collectively and help guide society.
Neil Howe, in his sweeping book “The Fourth Turning is Here,” says we have another 10 years in this “Millennial Crisis” phase. He calls this our “winter,” and it remains to be seen how we will emerge from our current challenges. I think we can make a difference.
If the Barbie movie is indeed a canary in the coal mine, I see positive trends ahead as we move past some of the societal and structural issues facing us, and work together to create a more open and egalitarian society. We must find creative solutions that will solve truly massive problems threatening our well-being and perhaps even our existence.
I am so grateful to be able to continue to practice and share my thoughts with you here from my home office, and I hope you can take a break and see this movie, which is not only entertaining but also thought- and emotion-provoking.
Dr. Ritvo has almost 30 years’ experience in psychiatry and is currently practicing telemedicine. She is the author of “Bekindr – The Transformative Power of Kindness” (Hellertown, Pa.: Momosa Publishing, 2018). She has no conflicts of interest.
The Barbie movie is generating a lot of feelings, ranging from praise to vitriol. However one feels about the movie, let’s all pause and reflect for a moment on the fact that the number-one grossing film of 2023 is about our childhood doll trying to treat her anxiety disorder.
“Life imitates art more than art imitates life.” So said Oscar Wilde in 1889.
When my adult daughter, a childhood Barbie enthusiast, asked me to see the film, we put on pink and went. Twice. Little did I know that it would stir up so many thoughts and feelings. The one I want to share is how blessed I feel at this moment in time to be a mental health care provider! No longer is mental health something to be whispered about at the water cooler; instead, even Barbie is suffering. And with all the controversy in the press about the movie, no one seems at all surprised by this storyline.
I was raised by two child psychiatrists and have been practicing as an adult psychiatrist since 1991. The start of the pandemic was the most difficult time of my career, as almost every patient was struggling simultaneously, as was I. Three long years later, we are gradually emerging from our shared trauma. How ironic, now with the opportunity to go back to work, I have elected to maintain the majority of my practice online from home. It seems that most patients and providers prefer this mode of treatment, with a full 90 percent of practitioners saying they are using a hybrid model.
As mental health professionals, we know that anywhere from 3% to 49% of those experiencing trauma will develop posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and we have been trained to treat them.
But what happens when an entire global population is exposed simultaneously to trauma? Historians and social scientists refer to such events by many different names, such as: Singularity, Black Swan Event, and Tipping Point. These events are incredibly rare, and afterwards everything is different. These global traumas always lead to massive change.
I think we are at that tipping point. This is the singularity. This is our Black Swan Event. Within a 3-year span, we have experienced the following:
- A global traumatic event (COVID-19).
- A sudden and seemingly permanent shift from office to remote video meetings mostly from home.
- Upending of traditional fundamentals of the stock market as the game literally stopped in January 2021.
- Rapid and widespread availability of Artificial Intelligence.
- The first generation to be fully raised on the Internet and social media (Gen Z) is now entering the workforce.
- Ongoing war in Ukraine.
That’s already an overwhelming list, and I could go on, but let’s get back to Barbie’s anxiety disorder.
The awareness about and acceptance of mental health issues has never been higher. The access to treatment never greater. There are now more online therapy options than ever. Treatment options have dramatically expanded in recent years, from Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) to ketamine centers and psychedelics, as well as more mainstream options such as dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), and so many more.
What is particularly unique about this moment is the direct access to care. Self-help books abound with many making it to the New York Times bestseller list. YouTube is loaded with fantastic content on overcoming many mental health issues, although one should be careful with selecting reliable sources. Apps like HeadSpace and Calm are being downloaded by millions of people around the globe. Investors provided a record-breaking $1.5 billion to mental health startups in 2020 alone.
For most practitioners, our phones have been ringing off the hook since 2020. Applications to psychology, psychiatric residency, social work, and counseling degree programs are on the rise, with workforce shortages expected to continue for decades. Psychological expertise has been embraced by businesses especially for DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion). Mental health experts are the most asked-for experts through media request services. Elite athletes are talking openly about bringing us on their teams.
In this unique moment, when everything seems set to transform into something else, it is time for mental health professionals to exert some agency and influence over where mental health will go from here. I think the next frontier for mental health specialists is to figure out how to speak collectively and help guide society.
Neil Howe, in his sweeping book “The Fourth Turning is Here,” says we have another 10 years in this “Millennial Crisis” phase. He calls this our “winter,” and it remains to be seen how we will emerge from our current challenges. I think we can make a difference.
If the Barbie movie is indeed a canary in the coal mine, I see positive trends ahead as we move past some of the societal and structural issues facing us, and work together to create a more open and egalitarian society. We must find creative solutions that will solve truly massive problems threatening our well-being and perhaps even our existence.
I am so grateful to be able to continue to practice and share my thoughts with you here from my home office, and I hope you can take a break and see this movie, which is not only entertaining but also thought- and emotion-provoking.
Dr. Ritvo has almost 30 years’ experience in psychiatry and is currently practicing telemedicine. She is the author of “Bekindr – The Transformative Power of Kindness” (Hellertown, Pa.: Momosa Publishing, 2018). She has no conflicts of interest.