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Education Observations Reading

Reading.

In an effort to resume the habit of writing regularly:

I finished Reynolds’s excellent Constructive Living earlier this month and am nearly through Morita’s Morita Therapy and the True Nature of Anxiety-Based Disorders. Several thoughts related to this:

1. People may believe that psychiatrists approach patient care from generally the same theory.

This is untrue.

I am not well versed in Freudian ideas or related “psychodynamic” hypotheses of mind. This is due to my inability to understand psychodynamic writings. Example from Heinz Kohut’s The Restoration of the Self (page 15):

In the analysis of those narcissistic personality disorders where working through had on the whole concerned a primary defect in the structure of the patient’s self, resulting in a gradual healing of the defect via the acquisition of new structures through transmuting internalization, the terminal phase can be seen to parallel that of the usual transference neuroses.

That single sentence has 58 words.[1. Courtesy the Word Count Tool.] I had to read the sentence three times before I understood Kohut’s idea. (“The treatment in narcissistic personality disorder focuses on a primary problem of the patient’s character. The patient integrates new ideas about himself and other people to correct this problem. When treatment is ending, patients will demonstrate similar reactions to the therapist as they did earlier in treatment.”) Because I find it difficult to read and understand this kind of writing, I am less inclined to read it.

Furthermore, I do not agree with some (many?) of the psychodynamic hypotheses of mind. I do not believe the Oedipus complex metaphor (and sometimes I’m not sure if it is meant to be a metaphor). I do not believe in the “good breast” and “bad breast” (see object relations theory).

I readily agree that I may lack the sophistication to grasp these concepts.

(That being said, I do believe that dynamics exist amongst people: There are reasons why some people are compelled to assert their superiority in a group. There are reasons why some people have difficulties leaving abusive partners. I do not believe, however, that these reasons are due to penis envy or castration anxiety.)

As a result, I read literature that I can understand: Cognitive Behavioral Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for Severe Mental Illness. Japanese books about anxiety disorders.

2. These two texts highlight the importance of accepting emotions, versus changing them. As a result, the focus is more on behaviors. (Or, it is not possible to will ourselves to feel different emotions. What we can will, however, are behaviors.)

Some Western formulations of psychology also highlight the acceptance of emotions (mindfulness based cognitive therapy and acceptance and commitment therapy). It is not surprising that many of these formulations are based on Eastern philosophies. I have been impressed, however, with Morita’s repeated emphasis on the importance of accepting emotions. He argues that patients often experience anxiety symptoms because they are unwilling to accept what is actually there (or what is not there). All of us, to some degree, do not accept certain aspects of reality. That lack of acceptance can result in suffering.

In some ways, these Eastern philosophies directly contradict Western, psychodynamic ideas of mind. If indulging the extremes of psychodynamic hypotheses, nothing is ever what it seems. You dreamed about a dog eating flowers (“manifest content”), but what that actually means is you hope your father will die (“latent content”). Morita might argue that you might be paying too much attention to your dreams.


Two further reading recommendations:

David Healy’s blog. I had noted earlier that all psychiatrists (and patients taking antidepressants) would benefit from reading his book, The Antidepressant Era. He’s bringing related information online.

Mad in America. The posts are stimulating counterpoints to information from mainstream psychiatry.


Categories
Lessons Observations

366 Days.

Happy new year!

The first day of the year is nearly over. How did you spend it?

Think forward to Monday, December 31, 2012. On that day, when you reflect back on the year, what will you say?

What goals will you have accomplished?

Will you have tried new things?

Will you have invested in your health?

Will you have told your friends and loved ones on a regular basis how much you care about them?

Will you have been generous? kind? compassionate?

May 2012 bring you good health and many blessings. May you be alive on December 31st, 2012, and have the opportunity to express gratitude for the year.

Tomorrow is the second day of the year. Use the time wisely.

Categories
Consult-Liaison Education Informal-curriculum Lessons Medicine Observations Policy

Red Herring: Epilogue.

I encourage you to read the entire Red Herring series before reading this post. Consider this your “spoiler alert”.


The patient really is fine.

She returned to the gastroenterology clinic several times for treatments to widen her esophagus. (It’s a neat procedure: The GI doctors insert a small balloon into the esophagus. They gently inflate the balloon to stretch the stricture a few millimeters. With repeated stretching, the esophagus will remain open.) The patient ate more. She stopped vomiting. Her weight increased.

For the sake of flow, I did not include two complications that occurred during the course of events:

Medication problems. Although I had written a letter to hospital staff that included the patient’s history and list of medications, the psychiatrists in the first hospital omitted one medication from the patient’s regimen. As a result, the patient developed distressing symptoms consistent with schizophrenia. (In some ways, this was a blessing, as this omission confirmed her diagnosis. As the patient had demonstrated minimal symptoms of schizophrenia as an outpatient, I would have been tempted to taper off medications… which could have resulted in an “unnecessary” hospitalization.) I suspect this error prolonged her hospitalization.

Transfers of care from outpatient to inpatient settings (and vice versa) are fraught with problems that often adversely affect the patient. People have proposed universal health records, care managers, and other devices to help minimize this potential for harm. For now, most of us continue to do the best we can with the current system.

Decisional capacity issues. After the patient was hospitalized the second time, the gastroenterologists had concerns about the patient’s ability to consent to the procedure to evaluate her esophagus. While she could communicate a choice, they had doubts that she could appreciate her condition and understand the risks and benefits of intervention. Her worker ended up going to the hospital to discuss the procedure together with the patient and physicians. We were fortunate that he was available to do this.

I wanted to share the tale of the Red Herring for three reasons:

All physicians are subject to bias. Patients can suffer as a result. Patients with psychiatric diagnoses sometimes do not receive appropriate medical attention simply because of diagnostic labels. This can occur even if patients are not demonstrating psychiatric symptoms at the time of the encounter. Physicians, including psychiatrists, may assume that these patients exaggerate or misreport medical symptoms. Alternatively, physicians may assume that medical symptoms are due solely to psychiatric conditions.

According to Wikipedia (not the best source of medical information, but anyway…), the prevalence of esophageal strictures is 7 to 23% in the US. The prevalence of schizophrenia is less than 1%. The prevalence of bulimia in the US is about 5%. Though esophageal strictures are more common than either psychiatric condition, we all somehow believed that the latter was the culprit in the case of the Red Herring.

We all often forget that people are not simply mind or body. People with psychiatric conditions still have physical bodies that can bleed, break, and hurt.

Physicians need time to provide good care. 15 minute appointments maximizes profits for organizations and physicians in private practice. 15 minute appointments often do not maximize benefit and value for patients. (To be fair, organizations and individuals need money to maintain clinics. If clinics go bankrupt, everyone loses.)

If I saw this patient for only 15 minutes, once a month, it would have taken me much longer to build a relationship with her. Without that relationship, I could not have directed her to go to the hospital. She would have (accurately) experienced that as coercion. Furthermore, my understanding of her symptoms and condition would have been limited.

If I only had 15 minutes a month with this patient, I would not have been able to advocate for her as I did. If we want our physicians to provide this level of care, we all must recognize that physicians need time to do so. (My patient was enrolled in a program for individuals with severe psychiatric conditions. My “caseload” of patients was purposely kept low; this allowed me to spend a flexible amount of time with people and to see them on a more frequent basis.)

Physicians must advocate for their patients. For those patients who are able to advocate for themselves, we must encourage them to do just that. Helping patients obtain the services they need to lead healthy, independent lives with limited contact with medical establishments should be one of our primary goals. This is particularly true in psychiatry: we should do what we can to get people out of the mental health system so they can get on with living their lives.

For those patients who cannot advocate for themselves, we must advocate for them. They otherwise will not receive the care and interventions they need to maximize the chances that they can lead healthy, independent lives. We have all read articles citing the enormous financial costs associated with undertreated or untreated medical problems. Furthermore, we will have failed our moral obligation to promote beneficience.


Thank you for reading the Red Herring. I appreciate your attention.

Categories
Consult-Liaison Education Lessons Medicine Observations

Red Herring (VIII).

The urge was to glance at the roster on the wall and go directly to the patient’s room.

Instead, I said to the clerk, “Hi. I’m one of The Patient’s outpatient doctors. May I trouble you to page her doctor so I can talk with him?”

Five minutes later, a man wearing a bow tie and a stethoscope around his neck walked onto the unit. He pitched himself forward when he walked; his shoulders were ahead of his hips, which were ahead of his knees.

“So you’re her psychiatrist, huh? She’s a nice woman.”

Yes, she is.

“GI scoped her this morning to open the stricture,” he said, waving his hand to direct me to follow him. “No complications. She should’ve gotten a breakfast tray by now. You see her yet?”

Before I could answer, he continued, “Interesting case. Not sure why she developed the stricture. You want copies of her notes? I’ll give you copies of her notes.”

My eyes skimmed the papers as he handed them to me. Though several pages mentioned a significant narrowing of her esophagus, none mentioned cancer.

Huh.

After thanking him, I went to go see my patient.

“Hellooooooo!” she squealed, waving her twiggy arms at me. “So nice to see yooooou!”

“Hello,” I laughed, noticing the sign marked “NPO”[1. NPO stands for “nil per os”, which means “nothing by mouth”, which means that the patient should not eat or drink anything for a certain amount of time. The sign should have been taken down since her procedure was done.] above her bed. “Do you mind if I sit down so we can chat?”

“No, no, sit, sit!”

“What did they bring you for breakfast?”

She gingerly lifted the plastic cover off of the breakfast tray. Pointing at each item, she said, “Eggs… toast… cereal… milk… juice… fruit?”

“There’s tea, too.”

“I don’t like tea.”

I smiled.

“Please, start eating.”

She peeled the wrapping off of the plastic utensils, plucked out the spoon and fork, and set them on the table. Her thin fingers opened the small milk carton and the single-serving of cereal.

“What happened this morning?

After pouring the milk into the cereal, she dunked the spoon into the mixture and fed the flakes into her mouth. She chewed, then swallowed, with ease.

“They put something down my throat.”

With the fork she scooped a blob of cold scrambled egg into her mouth.

“Why did they do that?”

“To open it up so I can swallow.”

She bit into a slice of toast. It looked soggy.

“Did it hurt?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

I smiled again.

She ate it all: The eggs, toast, cereal, milk, juice, and fruit in heavy syrup. The tea continued to give off steam in the corner of the tray.

“That was good,” she said.

We sat in silence for a while. She looked out the window. I looked at the thin muscles hanging off of her bones.

Abruptly turning to look at me, she said, “Thank you. You knew there was something wrong and you got me help. I was really sick. Thank you.”

My cheeks suddenly felt warm. A smile blossomed on my face. No longer able to hold her gaze, I looked away and said, “You’re welcome.”


Finis! Epilogue to follow. The story begins here.


Categories
Consult-Liaison Education Lessons Medicine Observations

Red Herring (VII).

It was raining. Cars were driving through the water collecting in the gutters. This made it difficult to hear her voice through the phone.

“I’m the consult-liaison psychiatrist seeing your patient,” she said. “Thank you for leaving a note for us about her.”

Huh. So she was admitted to a medical service. Good. Points to the primary medical team for getting the psychiatric consultant involved.

“How is she doing?”

“From a psychiatric standpoint, she’s fine…”

But…?

“… but, they scanned her chest and they found a mass. It doesn’t look good. They think it might be cancer.”

I stopped walking.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. They’re still doing the workup, but from what they saw on the scan, there’s a good chance that it’s cancer. They’ve told her and she’s okay so far. I’ll continue to see her. She’ll be in the hospital for a while.”

The cars continued to splash water onto the sidewalk. I closed my eyes.

“Thanks for letting me know.”


There’s an adage in medicine: The nicest people are the ones who get cancer.

God, how could you let a nice woman with a diagnosis of schizophrenia develop cancer? Have you no mercy?


Cancer? Could she really have cancer? Did I think it could be cancer? Of course I thought it could be cancer.

Did I?

Why didn’t the ED staff at the first hospital catch this? Could she have developed a mass in her chest in the span of three weeks? Maybe. Maybe it grew fast. But she had been vomiting for months….

Why didn’t I push the inpatient psychiatry staff ask for a medicine consult?

Because we all trusted the medical workup. There was no reason to doubt it.

Right?

But what if I had insisted on one? What if I had demanded it? She was losing weight and the inpatient psychiatrists couldn’t give me an explanation why. They thought her weight loss was due entirely to psychiatric reasons. Their strategy to help her gain weight—locking her out of a bathroom after meals!—wasn’t working. I knew this. They knew this.

I couldn’t stop them from discharging her from the hospital. What was I going to do? Block the exit and demand that she stay?

Maybe I trusted too much.

We all trusted. If they couldn’t find a medical cause, then the problem had to be psychiatric in nature.

How could we have completely forgotten that maybe they just couldn’t find the medical problem yet?

How could I have forgotten that?


The office staff were appalled.

“Should we tell the first hospital about this? They need to know. That could be a lawsuit right there.”

“But we’re not actually going to sue,” I said. “It doesn’t change anything for the patient. At least she’s getting treatment now.”


A few days later, the gastroenterologist called.

“Thank you for calling me. I understand that she has a mass? that she might have cancer?”

“We don’t know about the cancer part,” he said, “but there does seem to be a mass in her chest. We think the mass has been pushing on the esophagus, which caused the esophagus to get thick, like a callous. Then the diameter of his esophagus got smaller, so it became more difficult for her to swallow food. That probably explains her vomiting and weight loss.”

“Right.”

“Tomorrow morning, we’re going to drop a scope down her esophagus to look around. We’re planning on stretching the diameter of her esophagus a bit so she can eat.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow after the procedure. Thank you for letting me know.”

Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.


(Part seven of an ongoing series.)