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Consult-Liaison Education Medicine Reading Reflection Systems

The Challenge of Going Off Psychiatric Drugs for Psychiatry.

Here are my initial reactions to the New Yorker’s The Challenge of Going Off Psychiatric Drugs:

Which populations are most likely to receive large numbers of psychiatric medications?

The woman described in the article comes from a family of money and privilege. These individuals (and families) have both the time and money to seek out psychiatrists who practice “precision psychopharmacology”. These psychiatrists then order complicated medication regimens that ostensibly address and “correct” neuroreceptors. As a consequence, people end up taking multiple medications.

There are also individuals who do not have money or privilege, but are subjected to psychiatric services due to the concerns of the public. They may be behaving in ways that endanger their own lives or the lives of others. As a consequence, they receive medications—sometimes willingly, sometimes through coercion—that aim to reduce certain behaviors. If one medication doesn’t reduce the behavior, then more are added.

What these two populations have in common are (a) the lack of clarity around diagnosis, which often stems from (b) missing information about the person and the context in which s/he lives.

I completely agree with Dr. Frances’s comment from the article:

[There is a] “cruel paradox: there’s a large population on the severe end of the spectrum who really need the medicine” and either don’t have access to treatment or avoid it because it is stigmatized in their community. At the same time, many others are “being overprescribed and then stay on the medications for years.”

The meanings of diagnosis and treatment, particularly medications.

Some people feel relief upon learning that their symptoms belong to a diagnosis, that what they have is “real”. Others don’t want the “label” of a psychiatric diagnosis; they are not damaged human beings.

For various reasons (e.g., the current primacy of biological psychiatry, insurance reimbursement, psychiatry’s seeming inferiority complex within medicine), treatment in psychiatry is often focused on medications. This is not ideal. Medications are a biological solution, though our understanding of the biology of the brain and mind remains limited.

In the meantime, doctors recommend that people take pills. Some people view pills as a necessary intervention to keep them healthy and well. Some people view pills as a shameful reminder that there is something wrong with them that will never improve. The more pills someone has to take, the more potent the reminder that they are beyond hope or repair. Some people view pills as an external validator of their pain and suffering: “Someone else believes and understands my pain and these pills remind them and me that my pain is real.”

The pills may not be treating what psychiatrists think they are treating.

The problems with psychiatric diagnosis.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) focuses only on the “what”, not the “why”.

It doesn’t matter why someone has a depressed mood, takes no pleasure in work or play, can’t sleep, won’t eat, and feels hopeless. The underlying reason could be the cardiologist’s realization that he should have pursued his dream of becoming an architect… or it could be the threat of eviction after losing one’s job.

This affects the way psychiatrists gather a history from people seeking care. Instead of learning the context behind one’s symptoms, psychiatrists now focus on whether certain symptoms are present or absent. What matters more is that she feels paranoid, not that the paranoia started when she learned that her father was molesting her sister.

To be clear, there are some instances in which the underlying “why” doesn’t matter. If someone is terrified of flying on a plane, there are treatments (e.g., exposure therapy) that can help people tolerate plane rides without getting into the reasons why this fear appeared in the first place.

In other instances, though, the “why” is often relevant. Since our understanding of the biology of the brain and mind are limited, we don’t know if the biological properties of Medication A are more useful in military veterans who have fought in combat or if those of Medication B are more useful in women who experience major depression after the birth of a baby. Even if evidence suggests that medications aren’t the best treatment for either population, it is often the easiest intervention to deliver. This is due to the context and underlying “whys” of the health care system.

All of the other psychiatrists.

It’s true that there is scant evidence about how to taper and stop medications. It is a shame that psychiatry, as a field, has nothing to say about deprescribing. The scientific literature has plenty to say about adding medications, but nothing that extols the virtues of taking them away. There are risks to stopping medications, yes, but why are psychiatrists unimpressed with the risks of starting them? In this way we have failed not only the people who receive care from us, but we also fail the people who step in to help in our absence: Other physicians, nurses, family members, friends.

When I consider the psychiatrists I have worked with with, many of them have helped people come off of medications. They work with their patients and go through the trial-and-error process together. While they may not work in ivory towers of acclaim, they are still doing the work of helping people make informed choices about their care so they can lead healthy and meaningful lives. These are the quiet anecdotes that will never make it into the New Yorker.

Psychiatry as an agent of social control.

This is not the first time I’ve written about psychiatry as an agent of social control.

What does it mean that “antidepressants are taken by one in five white American women”? Is this a reflection of white American women? Or a reflection of the society and systems that want to contain white American women?

What does it mean that African- and Latinx-Americans are more likely to receive diagnoses of psychotic disorders? Is this a reflection of these populations of color? Or a reflection of the society and systems that want to contain these populations?

Perhaps there needs to be a “Challenge of Going Off Psychiatric Drugs” for the field of psychiatry. To be clear, there is definitely a role for medications in the treatment of psychiatric disorders, though: first, do no harm. When The Royal We have more humility about what we do and do not know, and exercise more care in current pharmacological tools, then perhaps getting on or going off of psychiatric drugs won’t be a “challenge”.

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Consult-Liaison Reading Reflection

Antisocial Behaviors.

The anxieties and discord within my tiny world and the world at large have felt heavier as of late. Thus, my words do not flow today with the relative ease that they have under different conditions. (To be clear, I’m fine. Perhaps I am just more sensitive to the energies and emotions of others.)

I recently learned about “adulthood antisocial behavioral syndrome”. If you’re familiar with the definition of antisocial personality disorder, it’s essentially that without the requirement for conduct disorder before the age of 15. (If you’re not familiar with antisocial personality disorder, allow me to refer you to my 2013 post (!) that describes the condition.)

The prevalence of these two conditions (derived from surveys of the general public) surprised me: In the United States, about 4% of the population have antisocial personality disorder, and a striking 20% apparently have adulthood antisocial behavioral syndrome. If the prevalence is 20%, should we consider that a disorder? (Is that why it’s called a “syndrome”?) That means if you invite four of your friends over to your home, one person in that group has adulthood antisocial behavioral syndrome. (Maybe it’s you!)

For many reasons (it’s exhausting, I have insufficient data, I can’t do anything to help, etc.), I avoid the intellectual exercise of considering what psychiatric conditions certain public figures may have. That being said, regardless of who is President and which political party has the majority, it is common in psychiatric education to note that there are people in power who likely have antisocial personality disorder. These individuals just haven’t gotten caught (or have the resources to avoid punishment… or there are institutional factors that protect them).

But, for “fun”, let’s run the numbers. If 4% of the US population meet criteria for antisocial personality disorder, that means

  • four Senators and
  • 17 House Representativies

demonstrate a “pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others occurring since age 15 years”. (I’ll let you discuss amongst yourselves as to the identities of these individuals.) There are 15 Cabinet members and nine Supreme Court justices, so the chances are low that one person in either one of those groups has antisocial personality disorder.

If 20% of the US population meet criteria for adulthood antisocial behavioral syndrome, that means

  • 20 Senators
  • 87 House Representatives
  • one Supreme Court justice and
  • three Cabinet members

demonstrate a “pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others”… but did not do so before the age of 15.

The paper that describes the survey also notes that these two antisocial conditions are

highest among male, white, Native American, younger, and unmarried respondents, those with high school or less education, lower incomes, and Western residence

When we consider mass shootings (most certainly an antisocial behavior) in the US, most of them were committed by men… but also note that the vast majority of men don’t ever kill people.

The odds ratio for Native Americans struck me: What does that mean? Is this simply due to the low numbers of Native Americans in this country (i.e., small numbers inflate percentages)? What are the other confounders?

And what about the contexts? Aren’t there occasions when antisocial behaviors are adaptive? If someone threatens your life on a routine basis, is it (1) unreasonable to lie, (2) put your safety at risk when you try to escape the situation, and (3) perform poorly at work due to the stress in your life? You only need to meet three criteria to receive a diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder.

I’m also curious about the prevalences of adulthood antisocial behavioral syndrome in other countries. Does a 20% prevalence in the US mean anything? Do we demonstrate more antisocial behaviors than others on this planet? Maybe this is just human nature?

Some people say that intellectualization is a mature defense mechanism. I’ll let you decide if this post is simply a manifestation of whatever unconscious conflict roils in my psyche.

Categories
Medicine Nonfiction Reflection

Assuming Intentions from Behaviors.

The fear first appeared in his eyes, then washed over his entire face.

“Hey, how did you do that?” His voice grew louder. “You’re supposed to help me! How did you tell the voices what to say?”

I realized that this was not going to end well.

“The voices in my head are now saying that there are robots in my brain!” he shouted. “That’s illegal! You’re not allowed to do that!”

“I have no ability to put voices in your head or anyone else’s head.”

“But you did! Before you told me about what I supposedly said the other day”—he had told my colleague that there were robots in his brain—“the voices never talked about robots. YOU did this!”

“I did not.”

“You did!” He looked around, frantic. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! THIS NURSE IS PUTTING VOICES INTO MY HEAD!”

My heart sank further. Many people who experience auditory hallucinations learn to avoid sharing this with others. This man did not realize how others would dismiss his suffering.

“I’m going to go.”

“NO! You can’t go! You’re doing something illegal!” He saw an officer approach. “GUARD! GUARD! This nurse is doing something illegal! She’s putting voices in my head!”

Though he has worked on the unit for years, I suspect that he had some innate skills in talking with people who were overwhelmed.

“Hey, you don’t need to yell, I’m right here. She’s trying to help you….”

He managed to shout, “HEY, COME BACK HERE, YOU NEED TO STAY!” as I slipped away, but he stopped yelling before I was out of earshot. The officer later told me the man demanded that I call his parents to tell them that I was putting voices in his head.


There’s no way this could ever happen to you, right?

But aren’t there times when we believe that someone did something to us… except they didn’t?

Like those times when we say, “She makes me so mad!”

Or, “He’s trying to make me jealous.”

We assume intention from behaviors. Sometimes our assumptions are correct, but not always. We feel whatever emotions we feel, but that does not always mean that somebody else is responsible for our emotions.

“But, Maria,” you might retort, “there’s a big difference between hearing voices and feeling emotions. We all feel emotions. Only sick people hear voices.”

… except there’s data[1. Prevalence of auditory verbal hallucinations in a general population: A group comparison study and A comprehensive review of auditory verbal hallucinations: lifetime prevalence, correlates and mechanisms in healthy and clinical individuals.] that suggests that anywhere between 5% and 28% of the general population hears voices. They are your coworkers, friends, members of your family, people you routinely see in your community.

And even if we don’t hear voices, our running internal dialogue—while not “voices”, per se, but “thoughts”—can transform an event into something else that never actually happened.


I felt sad as I was walking away from this man. First, do no harm. Our conversation went sideways and caused him distress. I replayed the interaction in my mind—my own internal dialogue was loud—and recognized several points where I could have taken a different approach. The outcome still may have been the same.

The truth remains, though: I did not put voices into his head. I don’t know how to do that. My hope is that he will recognize and accept that in time.


Categories
Medicine Reflection

Answers Unknown.

The chief complaint was belly pain. He described the pain as both dull and crampy. It came and went, but bothered him the most on the same night of each week.

The notes from the primary care doctor show a thoughtful search for the underlying cause. There were comments about activity logs, blood tests, and imaging studies. Months later, it remained a mystery: He still had belly pain. The investigations did not reveal any physical causes for the aches in his abdomen.

When I asked him if he had pain anywhere now in his body, he looked at me, blinked, and then looked away. He remained mute.


The first note in the medical record was a standard template for vaccinations related to overseas travel. This international adventure would be a distant memory by the time the discomfort in his gut brought him back to the clinic.

His trip to the distant land was unhampered by children. Over ten years would pass before they were born.

I didn’t ask him about his family. I knew that they now had restraining orders against him.


The next entries in the medical record describe a different person: He no longer had concerns about belly pain. The primary care doctor in the public health clinic wrote sympathetic notes about his skin infections and paranoia. The social history noted that he was no longer in contact with his family, but did not offer any reasons why.

Physicians and nurses are trained to ask questions that are inappropriate in social settings (e.g., “Have you been passing gas?” “When was your last period?”). There are also questions that we never think to ask: We don’t believe the people under our care would ever do something so inappropriate.


Did he develop belly pain because he literally could not stomach what he was doing to his children?


Maybe I only imagined that he nodded when I asked him about spiritual distress.

Could spiritual distress look like schizophrenia?

Could guilt and shame look like schizophrenia?

Could efforts to mimic schizophrenia look like actual schizophrenia?

Could a desire for a reduced punishment look like schizophrenia?


I gave him pencil and paper. “If you’d prefer to communicate through writing instead of speech, that’s okay. I’d like to know how I may best help you.”

His fingers grasped the pencil and paper for a few minutes. He looked at the floor. He then returned the pencil and paper to me before walking away.

Categories
Nonfiction Reflection Seattle

What Makes America Great.

After a long gaze at the different fonts and bright colors, my father, a Chinese man in his 70s, concluded in English, “The menu is different.”

“Yes, it’s new. Today is the first day,” replied the clerk, a Latina woman in her 40s. Standing next to her was a young Latina woman, perhaps not yet 20 years old.

It used to be K5,” my father murmured in Chinese.

Do you want what you usually get?” I responded in Chinese.

Though my father has an excellent grasp of English, the new orientation and colors of the fluorescent menu perplexed him.

Yes….

Chicken legs, right? You want K1.”

My dad found K1, too, and nodded with approval. He directed his attention to the cashier.

“Can I please have K1?” he asked.

The older woman nudged the younger woman to show her how to enter this order. “Ask if he wants original or extra crispy,” she advised in English.

“Original or extra crispy?” the young lady parroted.

“Original,” my dad said. The older woman then began to give instructions to the young woman in Spanish.

“It’s her first day here,” the older woman offered. The young woman smiled sheepishly; we all smiled back at her. No big deal.

And so it went: Spanish behind the counter, Chinese in front of the counter, with English connecting the two sides, and people helping people in all directions.

This is what makes America great.