Clinical Psychiatry News

Headache may be a key symptom of COVID-19 that predicts the disease’s clinical evolution in individual patients, new research suggests. An observational study of more than 100 patients showed that headache onset could occur during the presymptomatic or symptomatic phase of COVID-19 and could resemble tension-type or migraine headache.

Headache itself was associated with a shorter symptomatic period, while headache and anosmia were associated with a shorter hospitalization period. In a subgroup of participants, headache persisted even after the symptoms of COVID-19 had been resolved.

Investigators noted that understanding the pathophysiology of headache in COVID-19 could improve understanding of migraine and other headache disorders. “It seems that those patients who start early on, during the asymptomatic or early symptomatic period of COVID-19, with headache have a more localized inflammatory response that may reflect the ability of the body to better control and respond to the infection by SARS-CoV-2,” lead investigator Patricia Pozo-Rosich, MD, PhD, head of the headache and craniofacial pain unit at Vall d’Hebron University Hospital, Barcelona, said in an interview.

She presented the findings at the virtual annual meeting of the American Headache Society.

Systemic inflammation

Headache is one of the main symptoms of COVID-19. A recent study of 214 patients with COVID-19 showed that approximately 13% of the participants had headache and 5% had anosmia.

SARS-CoV-2 penetrates the cells through the ACE2 receptor, which is present throughout the body. “SARS-CoV-2 enters the body through the nasal cavity and it probably penetrates the nervous system in the periphery through afferent branches of the olfactory and trigeminal nerve,” Dr. Pozo-Rosich said. It travels to the lungs and, later, the bloodstream. This generates systemic inflammation that may turn into a cytokine storm. Evidence has identified cortical hyperintensities and olfactory bulb hyperintensities in patients with COVID-19, suggesting that the virus directly infects the CNS.

Interleukin-6, one of the main inflammatory molecules, has been proven to be related to COVID-19 and has become a therapeutic target. Levels of IL-6 may be lower and tend to be more stable in patients with both COVID-19 and headache than in patients with COVID-19 only.

The researchers observed 130 patients (51% women; mean age, 54 years) with COVID-19 who were attended by neurologists at Vall d’Hebron. In this group, 74.4% had headache. Patients with headache tended to be younger than those without headache (mean age, 50 years vs. 63 years, respectively) and tended to be women (58.6% vs. 29.4%).

Approximately one-third of patients with headache had a history of migraine. Most reported mild to moderate pain that resembled tension-type headache. In participants with severe pain and migraine-like features, headache more often began during the asymptomatic phase of COVID-19.

Disease evolution predictor?

The investigators followed up on 100 of the 130 patients with COVID-19, of whom 74 had headache. About 38% of these patients had ongoing headache after 6 weeks, which suggests that some patients may develop a new daily persistent headache once a 3-month period has elapsed. Half of this group had no previous headache history. Headache had been the prodromal symptom of COVID-19 for 21.4% of these patients.

Results showed that headache predicted the clinical evolution of COVID-19. The symptomatic phase of COVID-19 was 7 days shorter for patients with headache than for those without headache. In addition, the period of hospitalization was 7 days shorter for patients with headache and anosmia, compared with patients who had neither headache nor anosmia.

Most therapies, including ibuprofen, candesartan, and anti–calcitonin gene–related peptide (CGRP) monoclonal antibodies, are safe for treating headache in COVID-19, the investigators noted. “We should just try to initially avoid steroids to avoid interference with the body’s reaction to SARS-CoV-2,” Dr. Pozo-Rosich said.

Researchers at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, are currently studying intranasal vazegepant, an anti-CGRP therapy, as a way to potentially blunt the severe inflammatory response in the lungs of patients with COVID-19, she noted, adding that this peptide may have a future role not only in headache, but also in COVID-19.

Historical link to viral infections

Commenting on the study, Matthew S. Robbins, MD, associate professor of neurology at Weill Cornell Medicine, New York, said the findings associating headache with a shorter symptomatic phase of COVID-19 were “interesting.”

“Headache is common with mild viral infections. More severe viral infections may simply feature more overwhelming respiratory symptoms and fever that lead to underreporting or underascertainment of headache,” said Dr. Robbins, who was not involved with the research.

He noted that the finding showing an association of headache and COVID-19 with a younger age and in women “may be related to a higher prevalence of migraine biology in such patients, and being triggered by the virus or the psychological stress associated with it.”

Dr. Robbins added that viral illnesses have long been associated with new daily persistent headache, “dating back to the early 1980s,” when it was first described in association with Epstein-Barr virus. These infections have also been implicated in the progression of migraine to chronic migraine in adolescents.

“In my view, treatment should be aimed at the symptomatic headache type for which new daily persistent headache resembles, regardless of the potential inciting factor,” Dr. Robbins said.

Dr. Pozo-Rosich has received consulting fees from Allergan, Amgen, Almirall, Biohaven, Chiesi, Eli Lilly, Medscape, Novartis, and Teva Pharmaceuticals. Dr. Robbins has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Headache may be a key symptom of COVID-19 that predicts the disease’s clinical evolution in individual patients, new research suggests. An observational study of more than 100 patients showed that headache onset could occur during the presymptomatic or symptomatic phase of COVID-19 and could resemble tension-type or migraine headache.

Headache itself was associated with a shorter symptomatic period, while headache and anosmia were associated with a shorter hospitalization period. In a subgroup of participants, headache persisted even after the symptoms of COVID-19 had been resolved.

Investigators noted that understanding the pathophysiology of headache in COVID-19 could improve understanding of migraine and other headache disorders. “It seems that those patients who start early on, during the asymptomatic or early symptomatic period of COVID-19, with headache have a more localized inflammatory response that may reflect the ability of the body to better control and respond to the infection by SARS-CoV-2,” lead investigator Patricia Pozo-Rosich, MD, PhD, head of the headache and craniofacial pain unit at Vall d’Hebron University Hospital, Barcelona, said in an interview.

She presented the findings at the virtual annual meeting of the American Headache Society.

Systemic inflammation

Headache is one of the main symptoms of COVID-19. A recent study of 214 patients with COVID-19 showed that approximately 13% of the participants had headache and 5% had anosmia.

SARS-CoV-2 penetrates the cells through the ACE2 receptor, which is present throughout the body. “SARS-CoV-2 enters the body through the nasal cavity and it probably penetrates the nervous system in the periphery through afferent branches of the olfactory and trigeminal nerve,” Dr. Pozo-Rosich said. It travels to the lungs and, later, the bloodstream. This generates systemic inflammation that may turn into a cytokine storm. Evidence has identified cortical hyperintensities and olfactory bulb hyperintensities in patients with COVID-19, suggesting that the virus directly infects the CNS.

Interleukin-6, one of the main inflammatory molecules, has been proven to be related to COVID-19 and has become a therapeutic target. Levels of IL-6 may be lower and tend to be more stable in patients with both COVID-19 and headache than in patients with COVID-19 only.

The researchers observed 130 patients (51% women; mean age, 54 years) with COVID-19 who were attended by neurologists at Vall d’Hebron. In this group, 74.4% had headache. Patients with headache tended to be younger than those without headache (mean age, 50 years vs. 63 years, respectively) and tended to be women (58.6% vs. 29.4%).

Approximately one-third of patients with headache had a history of migraine. Most reported mild to moderate pain that resembled tension-type headache. In participants with severe pain and migraine-like features, headache more often began during the asymptomatic phase of COVID-19.

Disease evolution predictor?

The investigators followed up on 100 of the 130 patients with COVID-19, of whom 74 had headache. About 38% of these patients had ongoing headache after 6 weeks, which suggests that some patients may develop a new daily persistent headache once a 3-month period has elapsed. Half of this group had no previous headache history. Headache had been the prodromal symptom of COVID-19 for 21.4% of these patients.

Results showed that headache predicted the clinical evolution of COVID-19. The symptomatic phase of COVID-19 was 7 days shorter for patients with headache than for those without headache. In addition, the period of hospitalization was 7 days shorter for patients with headache and anosmia, compared with patients who had neither headache nor anosmia.

Most therapies, including ibuprofen, candesartan, and anti–calcitonin gene–related peptide (CGRP) monoclonal antibodies, are safe for treating headache in COVID-19, the investigators noted. “We should just try to initially avoid steroids to avoid interference with the body’s reaction to SARS-CoV-2,” Dr. Pozo-Rosich said.

Researchers at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, are currently studying intranasal vazegepant, an anti-CGRP therapy, as a way to potentially blunt the severe inflammatory response in the lungs of patients with COVID-19, she noted, adding that this peptide may have a future role not only in headache, but also in COVID-19.

Historical link to viral infections

Commenting on the study, Matthew S. Robbins, MD, associate professor of neurology at Weill Cornell Medicine, New York, said the findings associating headache with a shorter symptomatic phase of COVID-19 were “interesting.”

“Headache is common with mild viral infections. More severe viral infections may simply feature more overwhelming respiratory symptoms and fever that lead to underreporting or underascertainment of headache,” said Dr. Robbins, who was not involved with the research.

He noted that the finding showing an association of headache and COVID-19 with a younger age and in women “may be related to a higher prevalence of migraine biology in such patients, and being triggered by the virus or the psychological stress associated with it.”

Dr. Robbins added that viral illnesses have long been associated with new daily persistent headache, “dating back to the early 1980s,” when it was first described in association with Epstein-Barr virus. These infections have also been implicated in the progression of migraine to chronic migraine in adolescents.

“In my view, treatment should be aimed at the symptomatic headache type for which new daily persistent headache resembles, regardless of the potential inciting factor,” Dr. Robbins said.

Dr. Pozo-Rosich has received consulting fees from Allergan, Amgen, Almirall, Biohaven, Chiesi, Eli Lilly, Medscape, Novartis, and Teva Pharmaceuticals. Dr. Robbins has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Headache may be a key symptom of COVID-19 that predicts the disease’s clinical evolution in individual patients, new research suggests. An observational study of more than 100 patients showed that headache onset could occur during the presymptomatic or symptomatic phase of COVID-19 and could resemble tension-type or migraine headache.

Headache itself was associated with a shorter symptomatic period, while headache and anosmia were associated with a shorter hospitalization period. In a subgroup of participants, headache persisted even after the symptoms of COVID-19 had been resolved.

Investigators noted that understanding the pathophysiology of headache in COVID-19 could improve understanding of migraine and other headache disorders. “It seems that those patients who start early on, during the asymptomatic or early symptomatic period of COVID-19, with headache have a more localized inflammatory response that may reflect the ability of the body to better control and respond to the infection by SARS-CoV-2,” lead investigator Patricia Pozo-Rosich, MD, PhD, head of the headache and craniofacial pain unit at Vall d’Hebron University Hospital, Barcelona, said in an interview.

She presented the findings at the virtual annual meeting of the American Headache Society.

Systemic inflammation

Headache is one of the main symptoms of COVID-19. A recent study of 214 patients with COVID-19 showed that approximately 13% of the participants had headache and 5% had anosmia.

SARS-CoV-2 penetrates the cells through the ACE2 receptor, which is present throughout the body. “SARS-CoV-2 enters the body through the nasal cavity and it probably penetrates the nervous system in the periphery through afferent branches of the olfactory and trigeminal nerve,” Dr. Pozo-Rosich said. It travels to the lungs and, later, the bloodstream. This generates systemic inflammation that may turn into a cytokine storm. Evidence has identified cortical hyperintensities and olfactory bulb hyperintensities in patients with COVID-19, suggesting that the virus directly infects the CNS.

Interleukin-6, one of the main inflammatory molecules, has been proven to be related to COVID-19 and has become a therapeutic target. Levels of IL-6 may be lower and tend to be more stable in patients with both COVID-19 and headache than in patients with COVID-19 only.

The researchers observed 130 patients (51% women; mean age, 54 years) with COVID-19 who were attended by neurologists at Vall d’Hebron. In this group, 74.4% had headache. Patients with headache tended to be younger than those without headache (mean age, 50 years vs. 63 years, respectively) and tended to be women (58.6% vs. 29.4%).

Approximately one-third of patients with headache had a history of migraine. Most reported mild to moderate pain that resembled tension-type headache. In participants with severe pain and migraine-like features, headache more often began during the asymptomatic phase of COVID-19.

Disease evolution predictor?

The investigators followed up on 100 of the 130 patients with COVID-19, of whom 74 had headache. About 38% of these patients had ongoing headache after 6 weeks, which suggests that some patients may develop a new daily persistent headache once a 3-month period has elapsed. Half of this group had no previous headache history. Headache had been the prodromal symptom of COVID-19 for 21.4% of these patients.

Results showed that headache predicted the clinical evolution of COVID-19. The symptomatic phase of COVID-19 was 7 days shorter for patients with headache than for those without headache. In addition, the period of hospitalization was 7 days shorter for patients with headache and anosmia, compared with patients who had neither headache nor anosmia.

Most therapies, including ibuprofen, candesartan, and anti–calcitonin gene–related peptide (CGRP) monoclonal antibodies, are safe for treating headache in COVID-19, the investigators noted. “We should just try to initially avoid steroids to avoid interference with the body’s reaction to SARS-CoV-2,” Dr. Pozo-Rosich said.

Researchers at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, are currently studying intranasal vazegepant, an anti-CGRP therapy, as a way to potentially blunt the severe inflammatory response in the lungs of patients with COVID-19, she noted, adding that this peptide may have a future role not only in headache, but also in COVID-19.

Historical link to viral infections

Commenting on the study, Matthew S. Robbins, MD, associate professor of neurology at Weill Cornell Medicine, New York, said the findings associating headache with a shorter symptomatic phase of COVID-19 were “interesting.”

“Headache is common with mild viral infections. More severe viral infections may simply feature more overwhelming respiratory symptoms and fever that lead to underreporting or underascertainment of headache,” said Dr. Robbins, who was not involved with the research.

He noted that the finding showing an association of headache and COVID-19 with a younger age and in women “may be related to a higher prevalence of migraine biology in such patients, and being triggered by the virus or the psychological stress associated with it.”

Dr. Robbins added that viral illnesses have long been associated with new daily persistent headache, “dating back to the early 1980s,” when it was first described in association with Epstein-Barr virus. These infections have also been implicated in the progression of migraine to chronic migraine in adolescents.

“In my view, treatment should be aimed at the symptomatic headache type for which new daily persistent headache resembles, regardless of the potential inciting factor,” Dr. Robbins said.

Dr. Pozo-Rosich has received consulting fees from Allergan, Amgen, Almirall, Biohaven, Chiesi, Eli Lilly, Medscape, Novartis, and Teva Pharmaceuticals. Dr. Robbins has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Maryland psychiatrist Annette Hanson, MD, hasn’t changed her morning routine much since the coronavirus pandemic began. She still avoids putting on a necklace or earrings, which could be torn away or used as a ligature, and heads to work.

The only difference is that Dr. Hanson wears easy-to-clean scrubs instead of business attire. “That way I can strip down and shower as soon as I get home. I’m not sure that’s necessary, but I’m being cautious,” said Dr. Hanson, a forensic psychiatrist who is an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Maryland and at Johns Hopkins University, both in Baltimore.

As many of her colleagues shelter in place and work from home with the help of telemedicine, prison psychiatrists such as Dr. Hanson continue to evaluate and treat patients in person – behind bars. That hasn’t changed. But so much else has, from the elimination of family visits to the suspension of many court hearings, leaving already vulnerable inmates in limbo.

“Prisons continue to be a poor place to receive mental health care. The setting is destructive to physical and mental health, and the pandemic has made it worse,” said Bandy X. Lee, MD, MDiv, of Yale University, New Haven, Conn., who treats inmates in several states.

Like the inmates they treat, prison psychiatrists are facing unique challenges that test their powers of creativity and resilience. “The most challenging part is to continue care in a system that has essentially been frozen in place,” Dr. Hanson said.

As of June 9, nearly 44,000 inmates in federal and state prisons had tested positive for coronavirus, according to the Associated Press and the Marshall Project. At least 500 people have died. Those numbers do not include inmates and staff members in local jails or juvenile detention centers.

Statistics about COVID-19 in prison staff members are incomplete since only 20 states reported them, and it’s not clear where they contracted the virus. Even so, at least 9,180 cases in staff members were reported, along with 38 deaths, the AP/Marshall Project report.

Using telemedicine is impossible at many jails and prisons, forcing many psychiatrists to protect themselves and their patients as best they can. At the Los Angeles County Jail, which does not use telemedicine, group sessions have been greatly reduced. Instead, psychiatrists are spending more time talking to inmates at the doors to cells or modules, said supervising psychiatrist Joseph R. Simpson, MD, PhD.

The risk of transmission still exists, he said. “Our health system has a comprehensive testing, monitoring, and isolation system in place now to slow the spread and flatten the curve,” Dr. Simpson said. “However, once COVID enters any correctional facility, preventing it from spreading entirely is difficult or impossible given the nature of the living arrangements.”

In interviews, psychiatrists said inmates are more stressed by the limitations spawned by the pandemic than the risk of infection. Many facilities have banned in-person visits, and telephone calls are an expensive alternative, said Nicolas Badre, MD, who treats inmates at jails in the San Diego region.

“That one lifeline you had is no longer there. The second lifeline is that your public defender will get you a plea deal, but they’ve postponed hearings,” he said. “I’ve seen cases of folks who are more anxious and more depressed because COVID is delaying their case or because they’re unable to speak with their families and friends.”

Restrictions on contact with people on the outside are especially difficult for inmates at risk of psychosis, Dr. Badre said. “You add those two [limitations], and how does that not sound to someone with schizophrenia like the government is out to get you? And when someone asks you to wear a mask, how do you trust them?”

According to Dr. Lee, some patients with severe mental illness are unable to comprehend the risk of the pandemic, and they fail to protect themselves. While she’s begun to rely on telemedicine, “it’s a very blunt instrument. Many of my patients are very sick and less able to interact with a screen. And sometimes you’re exhausted at the end of the day because you’ve been yelling at the screen and trying different ways to gain the attention of individuals who are responding to external stimuli and can’t engage.”

The pandemic has improved conditions in prisons and jails on one front: Many are releasing inmates to lower the risk of spreading infection. And Dr. Badre said, “a lot of people are doing just fine, finding themselves to be completely resilient and finding meaning at this time.”

Other than anxiety, the psychiatrists did not report seeing higher percentages of any specific conditions. And they said they are not prescribing any more medications than before COVID-19. But many of the perennial treatments for anxiety – improving the diet, getting out and exercising, developing a hobby, reaching out to others – can be difficult at the best of times behind bars. Those treatments might be impossible now.

At the juvenile justice system in the Chicago area, for example, the pandemic has forced the cancellation of activities such as writing, taking art classes, and barber training. In-person visits are banned, too. “For a lot of them, seeing their family relieves stress, makes them feel more hopeful. It gives them a sense of normalcy to hug their mom,” said Yana Oskin, MD.

But it’s still possible to urge the young people to read, write, work with puzzles, and exercise daily even if it’s just in their rooms, she said. “While their movements have been limited, they do still get to go outside. If they can’t go to the gym, the recreation specialist comes to their pod.”

And while some psychiatrists and older inmates might not be thrilled to have to adjust to therapy via screen during the pandemic, young people are a different story. Dr. Oskin is working with them via telemedicine, which allowed at least one inmate to gain a kind of victory.

“We have an assistant who sets up Skype visits, and the camera was not angled properly,” she recalled. “She couldn’t figure out. The kid sat down and fixed it in 2 seconds.”

Dr. Hanson is the coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 2016). She has no other disclosures. Dr. Lee is the author of “Violence: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Causes, Consequences and Cures” (Wiley Blackwell, 2019). She has no other disclosures. Dr. Simpson is coauthor of “Neuroimaging in Forensic Psychiatry: From the Clinic to the Courtroom” (Wiley Blackwell, 2012). He has no other disclosures. Dr. Badre and Dr. Oskin reported no disclosures.

Maryland psychiatrist Annette Hanson, MD, hasn’t changed her morning routine much since the coronavirus pandemic began. She still avoids putting on a necklace or earrings, which could be torn away or used as a ligature, and heads to work.

The only difference is that Dr. Hanson wears easy-to-clean scrubs instead of business attire. “That way I can strip down and shower as soon as I get home. I’m not sure that’s necessary, but I’m being cautious,” said Dr. Hanson, a forensic psychiatrist who is an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Maryland and at Johns Hopkins University, both in Baltimore.

As many of her colleagues shelter in place and work from home with the help of telemedicine, prison psychiatrists such as Dr. Hanson continue to evaluate and treat patients in person – behind bars. That hasn’t changed. But so much else has, from the elimination of family visits to the suspension of many court hearings, leaving already vulnerable inmates in limbo.

“Prisons continue to be a poor place to receive mental health care. The setting is destructive to physical and mental health, and the pandemic has made it worse,” said Bandy X. Lee, MD, MDiv, of Yale University, New Haven, Conn., who treats inmates in several states.

Like the inmates they treat, prison psychiatrists are facing unique challenges that test their powers of creativity and resilience. “The most challenging part is to continue care in a system that has essentially been frozen in place,” Dr. Hanson said.

As of June 9, nearly 44,000 inmates in federal and state prisons had tested positive for coronavirus, according to the Associated Press and the Marshall Project. At least 500 people have died. Those numbers do not include inmates and staff members in local jails or juvenile detention centers.

Statistics about COVID-19 in prison staff members are incomplete since only 20 states reported them, and it’s not clear where they contracted the virus. Even so, at least 9,180 cases in staff members were reported, along with 38 deaths, the AP/Marshall Project report.

Using telemedicine is impossible at many jails and prisons, forcing many psychiatrists to protect themselves and their patients as best they can. At the Los Angeles County Jail, which does not use telemedicine, group sessions have been greatly reduced. Instead, psychiatrists are spending more time talking to inmates at the doors to cells or modules, said supervising psychiatrist Joseph R. Simpson, MD, PhD.

The risk of transmission still exists, he said. “Our health system has a comprehensive testing, monitoring, and isolation system in place now to slow the spread and flatten the curve,” Dr. Simpson said. “However, once COVID enters any correctional facility, preventing it from spreading entirely is difficult or impossible given the nature of the living arrangements.”

In interviews, psychiatrists said inmates are more stressed by the limitations spawned by the pandemic than the risk of infection. Many facilities have banned in-person visits, and telephone calls are an expensive alternative, said Nicolas Badre, MD, who treats inmates at jails in the San Diego region.

“That one lifeline you had is no longer there. The second lifeline is that your public defender will get you a plea deal, but they’ve postponed hearings,” he said. “I’ve seen cases of folks who are more anxious and more depressed because COVID is delaying their case or because they’re unable to speak with their families and friends.”

Restrictions on contact with people on the outside are especially difficult for inmates at risk of psychosis, Dr. Badre said. “You add those two [limitations], and how does that not sound to someone with schizophrenia like the government is out to get you? And when someone asks you to wear a mask, how do you trust them?”

According to Dr. Lee, some patients with severe mental illness are unable to comprehend the risk of the pandemic, and they fail to protect themselves. While she’s begun to rely on telemedicine, “it’s a very blunt instrument. Many of my patients are very sick and less able to interact with a screen. And sometimes you’re exhausted at the end of the day because you’ve been yelling at the screen and trying different ways to gain the attention of individuals who are responding to external stimuli and can’t engage.”

The pandemic has improved conditions in prisons and jails on one front: Many are releasing inmates to lower the risk of spreading infection. And Dr. Badre said, “a lot of people are doing just fine, finding themselves to be completely resilient and finding meaning at this time.”

Other than anxiety, the psychiatrists did not report seeing higher percentages of any specific conditions. And they said they are not prescribing any more medications than before COVID-19. But many of the perennial treatments for anxiety – improving the diet, getting out and exercising, developing a hobby, reaching out to others – can be difficult at the best of times behind bars. Those treatments might be impossible now.

At the juvenile justice system in the Chicago area, for example, the pandemic has forced the cancellation of activities such as writing, taking art classes, and barber training. In-person visits are banned, too. “For a lot of them, seeing their family relieves stress, makes them feel more hopeful. It gives them a sense of normalcy to hug their mom,” said Yana Oskin, MD.

But it’s still possible to urge the young people to read, write, work with puzzles, and exercise daily even if it’s just in their rooms, she said. “While their movements have been limited, they do still get to go outside. If they can’t go to the gym, the recreation specialist comes to their pod.”

And while some psychiatrists and older inmates might not be thrilled to have to adjust to therapy via screen during the pandemic, young people are a different story. Dr. Oskin is working with them via telemedicine, which allowed at least one inmate to gain a kind of victory.

“We have an assistant who sets up Skype visits, and the camera was not angled properly,” she recalled. “She couldn’t figure out. The kid sat down and fixed it in 2 seconds.”

Dr. Hanson is the coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 2016). She has no other disclosures. Dr. Lee is the author of “Violence: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Causes, Consequences and Cures” (Wiley Blackwell, 2019). She has no other disclosures. Dr. Simpson is coauthor of “Neuroimaging in Forensic Psychiatry: From the Clinic to the Courtroom” (Wiley Blackwell, 2012). He has no other disclosures. Dr. Badre and Dr. Oskin reported no disclosures.

Maryland psychiatrist Annette Hanson, MD, hasn’t changed her morning routine much since the coronavirus pandemic began. She still avoids putting on a necklace or earrings, which could be torn away or used as a ligature, and heads to work.

The only difference is that Dr. Hanson wears easy-to-clean scrubs instead of business attire. “That way I can strip down and shower as soon as I get home. I’m not sure that’s necessary, but I’m being cautious,” said Dr. Hanson, a forensic psychiatrist who is an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Maryland and at Johns Hopkins University, both in Baltimore.

As many of her colleagues shelter in place and work from home with the help of telemedicine, prison psychiatrists such as Dr. Hanson continue to evaluate and treat patients in person – behind bars. That hasn’t changed. But so much else has, from the elimination of family visits to the suspension of many court hearings, leaving already vulnerable inmates in limbo.

“Prisons continue to be a poor place to receive mental health care. The setting is destructive to physical and mental health, and the pandemic has made it worse,” said Bandy X. Lee, MD, MDiv, of Yale University, New Haven, Conn., who treats inmates in several states.

Like the inmates they treat, prison psychiatrists are facing unique challenges that test their powers of creativity and resilience. “The most challenging part is to continue care in a system that has essentially been frozen in place,” Dr. Hanson said.

As of June 9, nearly 44,000 inmates in federal and state prisons had tested positive for coronavirus, according to the Associated Press and the Marshall Project. At least 500 people have died. Those numbers do not include inmates and staff members in local jails or juvenile detention centers.

Statistics about COVID-19 in prison staff members are incomplete since only 20 states reported them, and it’s not clear where they contracted the virus. Even so, at least 9,180 cases in staff members were reported, along with 38 deaths, the AP/Marshall Project report.

Using telemedicine is impossible at many jails and prisons, forcing many psychiatrists to protect themselves and their patients as best they can. At the Los Angeles County Jail, which does not use telemedicine, group sessions have been greatly reduced. Instead, psychiatrists are spending more time talking to inmates at the doors to cells or modules, said supervising psychiatrist Joseph R. Simpson, MD, PhD.

The risk of transmission still exists, he said. “Our health system has a comprehensive testing, monitoring, and isolation system in place now to slow the spread and flatten the curve,” Dr. Simpson said. “However, once COVID enters any correctional facility, preventing it from spreading entirely is difficult or impossible given the nature of the living arrangements.”

In interviews, psychiatrists said inmates are more stressed by the limitations spawned by the pandemic than the risk of infection. Many facilities have banned in-person visits, and telephone calls are an expensive alternative, said Nicolas Badre, MD, who treats inmates at jails in the San Diego region.

“That one lifeline you had is no longer there. The second lifeline is that your public defender will get you a plea deal, but they’ve postponed hearings,” he said. “I’ve seen cases of folks who are more anxious and more depressed because COVID is delaying their case or because they’re unable to speak with their families and friends.”

Restrictions on contact with people on the outside are especially difficult for inmates at risk of psychosis, Dr. Badre said. “You add those two [limitations], and how does that not sound to someone with schizophrenia like the government is out to get you? And when someone asks you to wear a mask, how do you trust them?”

According to Dr. Lee, some patients with severe mental illness are unable to comprehend the risk of the pandemic, and they fail to protect themselves. While she’s begun to rely on telemedicine, “it’s a very blunt instrument. Many of my patients are very sick and less able to interact with a screen. And sometimes you’re exhausted at the end of the day because you’ve been yelling at the screen and trying different ways to gain the attention of individuals who are responding to external stimuli and can’t engage.”

The pandemic has improved conditions in prisons and jails on one front: Many are releasing inmates to lower the risk of spreading infection. And Dr. Badre said, “a lot of people are doing just fine, finding themselves to be completely resilient and finding meaning at this time.”

Other than anxiety, the psychiatrists did not report seeing higher percentages of any specific conditions. And they said they are not prescribing any more medications than before COVID-19. But many of the perennial treatments for anxiety – improving the diet, getting out and exercising, developing a hobby, reaching out to others – can be difficult at the best of times behind bars. Those treatments might be impossible now.

At the juvenile justice system in the Chicago area, for example, the pandemic has forced the cancellation of activities such as writing, taking art classes, and barber training. In-person visits are banned, too. “For a lot of them, seeing their family relieves stress, makes them feel more hopeful. It gives them a sense of normalcy to hug their mom,” said Yana Oskin, MD.

But it’s still possible to urge the young people to read, write, work with puzzles, and exercise daily even if it’s just in their rooms, she said. “While their movements have been limited, they do still get to go outside. If they can’t go to the gym, the recreation specialist comes to their pod.”

And while some psychiatrists and older inmates might not be thrilled to have to adjust to therapy via screen during the pandemic, young people are a different story. Dr. Oskin is working with them via telemedicine, which allowed at least one inmate to gain a kind of victory.

“We have an assistant who sets up Skype visits, and the camera was not angled properly,” she recalled. “She couldn’t figure out. The kid sat down and fixed it in 2 seconds.”

Dr. Hanson is the coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 2016). She has no other disclosures. Dr. Lee is the author of “Violence: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Causes, Consequences and Cures” (Wiley Blackwell, 2019). She has no other disclosures. Dr. Simpson is coauthor of “Neuroimaging in Forensic Psychiatry: From the Clinic to the Courtroom” (Wiley Blackwell, 2012). He has no other disclosures. Dr. Badre and Dr. Oskin reported no disclosures.

By the time she was discharged from a suburban New Jersey hospital on April 10, Kathleen Ronan thought the worst was behind her. For a week before her husband rushed her to the emergency department (ED), incoherent and struggling to breathe, the novel coronavirus had ravaged her body. She tried to treat her fevers with acetaminophen and ice packs. Despite taking enough Tylenol to risk liver damage and packing herself on ice like the catch of the day, Ronan’s fever continued to rise. By the time her temperature reached 104.5° F, Ronan knew the time had come for more drastic measures.

A team of masked and gowned nurses greeted her at a triage tent outside the ED, and from there, everything becomes hazy for Ronan. She was immediately rushed to the hospital’s special COVID-19 intensive care unit (ICU), where she spent 5 days. But she has few distinct memories from this time. What she does remember is the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. Her family couldn’t visit, and though Ronan works as a home health nurse, her brain was so addled with fever that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. After a week in the hospital, 5 days of which were spent in the ICU, 51-year-old Ronan was discharged.

Her years of working as a home health nurse told her that the return home wouldn’t be easy, but nothing prepared her for just how much she would struggle. The once-active Ronan, who had supplemented long days on her feet caring for others as a nurse with regular trips to the gym, now needed a walker to traverse the few steps from her bed to the toilet, an effort that left her gasping for air. Her brain couldn’t even focus on an audiobook, let alone a short magazine article.

“It just completely knocked the stuffing out of me,” Ronan said.

Ronan’s lingering symptoms aren’t unique to COVID-19 patients. In as many as 80% of patients leaving the ICU, researchers have documented what they call post–intensive care syndrome (PICS) — a constellation of physical, cognitive, and psychiatric symptoms that result from an ICU stay. Although underlying illness plays a role in these symptoms, the amount of time spent in critical care is a major factor.

Nor is PICS simply a set of side effects that will go away on their own. It includes ongoing cognitive difficulties and physical weakness, both of which can lead to employment problems. Beyond that, depression and anxiety can exacerbate – and be exacerbated by – these challenges. Psychologist Jim Jackson, PsyD, assistant director of the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee, recently spoke with a former ICU patient who has struggled since her discharge 30 years ago.

“Her life essentially stopped with her critical care stay. She hasn’t been able to move forward,” he said. “She’s part of a whole fraternity of people who are struggling.”

The good news is that over the past decade, researchers have made important strides in understanding what makes PICS symptoms worse and how critical care physicians can tweak ICU protocols to reduce PICS severity. Practitioners will need to draw on this knowledge to help Ronan and the thousands of COVID-19 ICU patients like her.
 

Surviving the ICU

Although the new coronavirus has pushed the world’s critical care system to its limits, it was an outbreak in 1952 that inspired the creation of intensive care units. That summer, a wave of paralytic polio swept over Copenhagen, Denmark, and anesthesiologist Bjørn Ibsen, MD, PhD, used mechanical ventilation — physically operated by medical and dental students – to help 316 children breathe for weeks at a time while their small bodies worked to fight off the virus. The effort halved the mortality rate from polio that affected breathing, from 80% to 40%.

In these wards, dedicated to the very sickest, each patient was assigned his or her own nurse. Over the next decade, hospitals in the United Kingdom and the United States established their own ICUs to treat patients with a variety of conditions. Although it helped improve survival, mortality rates in critical care units remained stubbornly high, owing to the patients’ severe underlying illnesses.

“We thought we were doing a good job if the patient survived, but we had no idea what happened after discharge,” said Carla Sevin, MD, medical director of Vanderbilt’s ICU Recovery Center. Nor did their efforts to find out always bring answers. “We struggled to get people to come in for support — they were debilitated, physically burdened, and weak.”

Through further advances in life support, by the early 2000s, the average mortality rates in American ICUs had dropped to 8% to 19%. As the number of critical care survivors began to climb, clinical researchers noticed that the lives of these patients and their families were profoundly altered by their severe illness.

As Dale Needham, MD, PhD, began his pulmonology and critical care residency in Toronto, Canada, in 2005, a group of physicians there began a 5-year longitudinal study to assess long-term outcomes of patients who developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Although ARDS is an acute condition, the investigators found that patients felt effects for years. Younger patients recovered better than older ones, but none of the patients› physical functioning was equivalent to that of age-matched control persons. Even 5 years later, former ICU patients only reached 76% of expected physical functioning, according to results published in the New England Journal of Medicine. The study was a wake-up call.

At a meeting in Chicago in 2010, Needham, now an intensivist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, gathered an interdisciplinary group of colleagues, including patients and caregivers, to clarify the phenomena they were seeing. What emerged from that meeting, published in 2012 in Critical Care Medicine, were the diagnostic criteria for PICS: According to the new definition, PICS is characterized by new or worsening physical and neuropsychiatric deficits that range from forgetfulness and loss of motivation to physical weakness and insomnia.

The issue, Needham says, is that although the trouble starts in the ICU, it only becomes clear once patients leave. “ICU doctors aren’t the ones dealing with this,” Needham said. “We need to build stronger bridges between critical care and other professions.” That’s where PICS comes in, a definition that exists explicitly to alert healthcare providers about the constellation of challenges many of these individuals face as they try to reenter “normal” life.
 

Defining the problem

As an ICU nurse at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, Annie Johnson, ACNP-BC, knew lots about helping hospitalized patients, but she says she didn’t know anything about what to do after discharge – at least not until her own mother became a patient.

On the first day of retirement in October 2014, Johnson’s mother flatlined. Quick-thinking paramedics resuscitated her, and after several days in critical care, she was discharged. Since then, her heart has remained healthy. Johnson’s sister, who spent time worrying over her mother at the hospital, also had lingering effects. Both have since struggled, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.

Johnson initially believed her mom’s and sister’s neuropsychiatric, post-ICU struggles were unique to her family. It was only a year later, at a seminar she was attending, that she first heard the words “post–intensive care syndrome.” Suddenly, Johnson had a name for her family’s experiences, and she began to create support groups and resources to help other families like hers.

“I thought of all the patients I had treated over the years who had been on ventilators for days and days and days. And if this happened to my mom after 48 hours, what must they be going through?” she asked.

Once physicians formally defined PICS, the Society for Critical Care Medicine helped create programs to educate ICU staff, patients, and families about potential post-discharge challenges. Researchers also began to investigate factors affecting post-ICU functioning. Follow-up studies of patients with delirium (ranging from general confusion about time and place to extreme agitation and violence) showed they had striking cognitive deficits. Problems with short-term memory, flexible thinking, and motivation plagued patients for years after their critical illness, similar to the physical deficiencies seen after ARDS. Delirium was one of the strongest risk factors for neuropsychiatric problems.

“Delirium is basically a stress test for the brain,” said Babar Khan, MD, a critical care specialist at Indiana University’s Regenstrief Institute, in Bloomington. But whether delirium accentuates preexisting cognitive difficulties or creates them afresh isn’t yet clear.

Sophia Wang, MD, a geriatric psychiatrist at Indiana University who works with many critical care patients, says patients who had experienced delirium in the ICU showed significant defects in memory and executive functioning long after their hospital stay. She points to a 2015 study that followed 47 ICU patients for a year post discharge. Among those who experienced delirium, brain volumes, as measured by MRI, were smaller at 3 months, something associated with cognitive problems at 1 year. Many struggled at work, and unemployment was common. Depression and posttraumatic stress compounded these difficulties. Among those with acute respiratory distress, ICU patients who are young, female, and unemployed are most likely to suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder after they are discharge.

Critical care medicine may have given these patients a second chance at life, Wang says, but the life they return to often looks nothing like the one they had before their illness.

Prolonged mechanical ventilation and the heavy sedation that often accompanies it are predictors of PICS severity. Some of these links could be explained by the gravity of the illness that landed someone in critical care, but others are more likely to be iatrogenic, says Gerald Weinhouse, MD, a pulmonology and critical care physician and co-director of the Critical Illness Recovery Program at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. The involvement of loved ones at the patient’s bedside, however, improved the entire family’s outcome.

When Weinhouse saw those data, he and his colleagues founded a peer support program for ICU survivors. In a study published in 2019 in Critical Care Medicine, they identified six different models for peer support for those with PICS and their families, including both online and in-person approaches. An ongoing challenge for physicians, Weinhouse says, is getting patients to engage with these programs, given that their calendars are crowded with medical appointments and that they suffer from increased physical and mental disability.

Studies such as these led critical care physicians to form the ICU Liberation Collaborative to rethink critical care medicine. At Vanderbilt, Sevin and Jackson headed up one of the world’s first post-ICU clinics, which uses an interdisciplinary team to help patients maximize their functioning. They redesigned their critical care unit in a way that allows families to spend the night and that encourages patient mobility. Both Needham and Weinhouse continue tracking patient outcomes.

Even before the novel coronavirus struck, the United States — and the world — had begun to realize that graduating from the ICU was only the start of what was often an extensive recovery.
 

The long road back

When COVID-19 patients began flooding intensive care wards around the world, physicians scrambled to meet their complex and desperate acute medical needs. Over the past few months, physicians have focused on keeping these patients alive. “We’ve never seen anything like it ― not even during polio — with the sheer number of patients, all with respiratory distress,” Needham said.

But he and his colleagues know this is only the beginning.

“We’re aware that survivorship issues are coming. There’s going to be a wave of sick people who survived the coronavirus but are going to need more help,” Weinhouse said.

Intensivists have been drawing on PICS research in their fight to help COVID-19 patients. Work from the past few years has shown that although sedation is required during intubation itself, not everyone needs it while on a ventilator. Titrating down sedating medication helps reduce delirium, Wang says. Such medication has been shown to contribute to later cognitive problems. Needham’s studies showing that prolonged bedrest by ICU patients causes muscular atrophy has led him to encourage patients to move as much as possible. With the help of physical therapists, many patients on ventilators can be awake, alert, and moving around the ward.

One of the biggest challenges critical-care coronavirus patients face is prolonged isolation. The constant presence of a familiar face helps orient confused and delirious patients and provides emotional support during a frightening time. But because the immediate need for infection control outweighs these benefits, few hospitals allow visitors, especially for COVID-19 patients.

To address this, some units have been using video technology to allow loved ones to call in. At Johns Hopkins, physicians have also been relying on the expertise of occupational therapists (OTs). Needham says that one OT found that rubbing the hand and back of an agitated, delirious patient helped soothe and calm him better than many medications.

Ronan, who spent 5 days in intensive care, echoes that problem. She says she found the relative lack of human contact to be one of the most challenging parts of being in a bed on a COVID-19 ward. Separated from her husband and daughter, suffering from high fever and severe illness, she lost all track of time.

Her return home was difficult, too. Although her job as a home health nurse had prepared her on some level for the challenges she would face after discharge, Ronan says the hospital provided little practical help.

“Everything is so much harder at home, even little things like going to the bathroom,” she said. “I feel like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teacup.”

Khan and other physicians, aware of the challenges Ronan and others face once home, aim to create post-ICU clinics specifically for COVID-19 patients. They want to build what Khan calls a “one-stop shop” for all the support patients need to recover. Some of that can be provided via telehealth, which may also help ease the physical burden.

Because there’s so much physicians don’t know about the coronavirus, Johnson says, such clinics are not only a chance to help the sickest COVID-19 patients, they will also help researchers learn more about the virus and improve critical care for other illnesses.

Today, nearly 2 months after discharge, Ronan is back on the job but struggles with a persistent cough — likely due to the lung damage she sustained while ill. She has constant fatigue, as well as ongoing upset stomach from all the medications she took to reduce fever and body aches. When she dons a mask for work, the tangible reminder of her hospital stay sends her into a panic attack. Physically, she’s weaker than before.

Researchers are still trying to understand everything that Ronan and other COVID-19 patients need to move on with their lives after being in the ICU. Mysteries abound, but the ground laid by Sevin, Needham, Weinhouse, and others has provided a solid foundation on which to build.
 

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

By the time she was discharged from a suburban New Jersey hospital on April 10, Kathleen Ronan thought the worst was behind her. For a week before her husband rushed her to the emergency department (ED), incoherent and struggling to breathe, the novel coronavirus had ravaged her body. She tried to treat her fevers with acetaminophen and ice packs. Despite taking enough Tylenol to risk liver damage and packing herself on ice like the catch of the day, Ronan’s fever continued to rise. By the time her temperature reached 104.5° F, Ronan knew the time had come for more drastic measures.

A team of masked and gowned nurses greeted her at a triage tent outside the ED, and from there, everything becomes hazy for Ronan. She was immediately rushed to the hospital’s special COVID-19 intensive care unit (ICU), where she spent 5 days. But she has few distinct memories from this time. What she does remember is the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. Her family couldn’t visit, and though Ronan works as a home health nurse, her brain was so addled with fever that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. After a week in the hospital, 5 days of which were spent in the ICU, 51-year-old Ronan was discharged.

Her years of working as a home health nurse told her that the return home wouldn’t be easy, but nothing prepared her for just how much she would struggle. The once-active Ronan, who had supplemented long days on her feet caring for others as a nurse with regular trips to the gym, now needed a walker to traverse the few steps from her bed to the toilet, an effort that left her gasping for air. Her brain couldn’t even focus on an audiobook, let alone a short magazine article.

“It just completely knocked the stuffing out of me,” Ronan said.

Ronan’s lingering symptoms aren’t unique to COVID-19 patients. In as many as 80% of patients leaving the ICU, researchers have documented what they call post–intensive care syndrome (PICS) — a constellation of physical, cognitive, and psychiatric symptoms that result from an ICU stay. Although underlying illness plays a role in these symptoms, the amount of time spent in critical care is a major factor.

Nor is PICS simply a set of side effects that will go away on their own. It includes ongoing cognitive difficulties and physical weakness, both of which can lead to employment problems. Beyond that, depression and anxiety can exacerbate – and be exacerbated by – these challenges. Psychologist Jim Jackson, PsyD, assistant director of the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee, recently spoke with a former ICU patient who has struggled since her discharge 30 years ago.

“Her life essentially stopped with her critical care stay. She hasn’t been able to move forward,” he said. “She’s part of a whole fraternity of people who are struggling.”

The good news is that over the past decade, researchers have made important strides in understanding what makes PICS symptoms worse and how critical care physicians can tweak ICU protocols to reduce PICS severity. Practitioners will need to draw on this knowledge to help Ronan and the thousands of COVID-19 ICU patients like her.
 

Surviving the ICU

Although the new coronavirus has pushed the world’s critical care system to its limits, it was an outbreak in 1952 that inspired the creation of intensive care units. That summer, a wave of paralytic polio swept over Copenhagen, Denmark, and anesthesiologist Bjørn Ibsen, MD, PhD, used mechanical ventilation — physically operated by medical and dental students – to help 316 children breathe for weeks at a time while their small bodies worked to fight off the virus. The effort halved the mortality rate from polio that affected breathing, from 80% to 40%.

In these wards, dedicated to the very sickest, each patient was assigned his or her own nurse. Over the next decade, hospitals in the United Kingdom and the United States established their own ICUs to treat patients with a variety of conditions. Although it helped improve survival, mortality rates in critical care units remained stubbornly high, owing to the patients’ severe underlying illnesses.

“We thought we were doing a good job if the patient survived, but we had no idea what happened after discharge,” said Carla Sevin, MD, medical director of Vanderbilt’s ICU Recovery Center. Nor did their efforts to find out always bring answers. “We struggled to get people to come in for support — they were debilitated, physically burdened, and weak.”

Through further advances in life support, by the early 2000s, the average mortality rates in American ICUs had dropped to 8% to 19%. As the number of critical care survivors began to climb, clinical researchers noticed that the lives of these patients and their families were profoundly altered by their severe illness.

As Dale Needham, MD, PhD, began his pulmonology and critical care residency in Toronto, Canada, in 2005, a group of physicians there began a 5-year longitudinal study to assess long-term outcomes of patients who developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Although ARDS is an acute condition, the investigators found that patients felt effects for years. Younger patients recovered better than older ones, but none of the patients› physical functioning was equivalent to that of age-matched control persons. Even 5 years later, former ICU patients only reached 76% of expected physical functioning, according to results published in the New England Journal of Medicine. The study was a wake-up call.

At a meeting in Chicago in 2010, Needham, now an intensivist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, gathered an interdisciplinary group of colleagues, including patients and caregivers, to clarify the phenomena they were seeing. What emerged from that meeting, published in 2012 in Critical Care Medicine, were the diagnostic criteria for PICS: According to the new definition, PICS is characterized by new or worsening physical and neuropsychiatric deficits that range from forgetfulness and loss of motivation to physical weakness and insomnia.

The issue, Needham says, is that although the trouble starts in the ICU, it only becomes clear once patients leave. “ICU doctors aren’t the ones dealing with this,” Needham said. “We need to build stronger bridges between critical care and other professions.” That’s where PICS comes in, a definition that exists explicitly to alert healthcare providers about the constellation of challenges many of these individuals face as they try to reenter “normal” life.
 

Defining the problem

As an ICU nurse at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, Annie Johnson, ACNP-BC, knew lots about helping hospitalized patients, but she says she didn’t know anything about what to do after discharge – at least not until her own mother became a patient.

On the first day of retirement in October 2014, Johnson’s mother flatlined. Quick-thinking paramedics resuscitated her, and after several days in critical care, she was discharged. Since then, her heart has remained healthy. Johnson’s sister, who spent time worrying over her mother at the hospital, also had lingering effects. Both have since struggled, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.

Johnson initially believed her mom’s and sister’s neuropsychiatric, post-ICU struggles were unique to her family. It was only a year later, at a seminar she was attending, that she first heard the words “post–intensive care syndrome.” Suddenly, Johnson had a name for her family’s experiences, and she began to create support groups and resources to help other families like hers.

“I thought of all the patients I had treated over the years who had been on ventilators for days and days and days. And if this happened to my mom after 48 hours, what must they be going through?” she asked.

Once physicians formally defined PICS, the Society for Critical Care Medicine helped create programs to educate ICU staff, patients, and families about potential post-discharge challenges. Researchers also began to investigate factors affecting post-ICU functioning. Follow-up studies of patients with delirium (ranging from general confusion about time and place to extreme agitation and violence) showed they had striking cognitive deficits. Problems with short-term memory, flexible thinking, and motivation plagued patients for years after their critical illness, similar to the physical deficiencies seen after ARDS. Delirium was one of the strongest risk factors for neuropsychiatric problems.

“Delirium is basically a stress test for the brain,” said Babar Khan, MD, a critical care specialist at Indiana University’s Regenstrief Institute, in Bloomington. But whether delirium accentuates preexisting cognitive difficulties or creates them afresh isn’t yet clear.

Sophia Wang, MD, a geriatric psychiatrist at Indiana University who works with many critical care patients, says patients who had experienced delirium in the ICU showed significant defects in memory and executive functioning long after their hospital stay. She points to a 2015 study that followed 47 ICU patients for a year post discharge. Among those who experienced delirium, brain volumes, as measured by MRI, were smaller at 3 months, something associated with cognitive problems at 1 year. Many struggled at work, and unemployment was common. Depression and posttraumatic stress compounded these difficulties. Among those with acute respiratory distress, ICU patients who are young, female, and unemployed are most likely to suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder after they are discharge.

Critical care medicine may have given these patients a second chance at life, Wang says, but the life they return to often looks nothing like the one they had before their illness.

Prolonged mechanical ventilation and the heavy sedation that often accompanies it are predictors of PICS severity. Some of these links could be explained by the gravity of the illness that landed someone in critical care, but others are more likely to be iatrogenic, says Gerald Weinhouse, MD, a pulmonology and critical care physician and co-director of the Critical Illness Recovery Program at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. The involvement of loved ones at the patient’s bedside, however, improved the entire family’s outcome.

When Weinhouse saw those data, he and his colleagues founded a peer support program for ICU survivors. In a study published in 2019 in Critical Care Medicine, they identified six different models for peer support for those with PICS and their families, including both online and in-person approaches. An ongoing challenge for physicians, Weinhouse says, is getting patients to engage with these programs, given that their calendars are crowded with medical appointments and that they suffer from increased physical and mental disability.

Studies such as these led critical care physicians to form the ICU Liberation Collaborative to rethink critical care medicine. At Vanderbilt, Sevin and Jackson headed up one of the world’s first post-ICU clinics, which uses an interdisciplinary team to help patients maximize their functioning. They redesigned their critical care unit in a way that allows families to spend the night and that encourages patient mobility. Both Needham and Weinhouse continue tracking patient outcomes.

Even before the novel coronavirus struck, the United States — and the world — had begun to realize that graduating from the ICU was only the start of what was often an extensive recovery.
 

The long road back

When COVID-19 patients began flooding intensive care wards around the world, physicians scrambled to meet their complex and desperate acute medical needs. Over the past few months, physicians have focused on keeping these patients alive. “We’ve never seen anything like it ― not even during polio — with the sheer number of patients, all with respiratory distress,” Needham said.

But he and his colleagues know this is only the beginning.

“We’re aware that survivorship issues are coming. There’s going to be a wave of sick people who survived the coronavirus but are going to need more help,” Weinhouse said.

Intensivists have been drawing on PICS research in their fight to help COVID-19 patients. Work from the past few years has shown that although sedation is required during intubation itself, not everyone needs it while on a ventilator. Titrating down sedating medication helps reduce delirium, Wang says. Such medication has been shown to contribute to later cognitive problems. Needham’s studies showing that prolonged bedrest by ICU patients causes muscular atrophy has led him to encourage patients to move as much as possible. With the help of physical therapists, many patients on ventilators can be awake, alert, and moving around the ward.

One of the biggest challenges critical-care coronavirus patients face is prolonged isolation. The constant presence of a familiar face helps orient confused and delirious patients and provides emotional support during a frightening time. But because the immediate need for infection control outweighs these benefits, few hospitals allow visitors, especially for COVID-19 patients.

To address this, some units have been using video technology to allow loved ones to call in. At Johns Hopkins, physicians have also been relying on the expertise of occupational therapists (OTs). Needham says that one OT found that rubbing the hand and back of an agitated, delirious patient helped soothe and calm him better than many medications.

Ronan, who spent 5 days in intensive care, echoes that problem. She says she found the relative lack of human contact to be one of the most challenging parts of being in a bed on a COVID-19 ward. Separated from her husband and daughter, suffering from high fever and severe illness, she lost all track of time.

Her return home was difficult, too. Although her job as a home health nurse had prepared her on some level for the challenges she would face after discharge, Ronan says the hospital provided little practical help.

“Everything is so much harder at home, even little things like going to the bathroom,” she said. “I feel like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teacup.”

Khan and other physicians, aware of the challenges Ronan and others face once home, aim to create post-ICU clinics specifically for COVID-19 patients. They want to build what Khan calls a “one-stop shop” for all the support patients need to recover. Some of that can be provided via telehealth, which may also help ease the physical burden.

Because there’s so much physicians don’t know about the coronavirus, Johnson says, such clinics are not only a chance to help the sickest COVID-19 patients, they will also help researchers learn more about the virus and improve critical care for other illnesses.

Today, nearly 2 months after discharge, Ronan is back on the job but struggles with a persistent cough — likely due to the lung damage she sustained while ill. She has constant fatigue, as well as ongoing upset stomach from all the medications she took to reduce fever and body aches. When she dons a mask for work, the tangible reminder of her hospital stay sends her into a panic attack. Physically, she’s weaker than before.

Researchers are still trying to understand everything that Ronan and other COVID-19 patients need to move on with their lives after being in the ICU. Mysteries abound, but the ground laid by Sevin, Needham, Weinhouse, and others has provided a solid foundation on which to build.
 

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

By the time she was discharged from a suburban New Jersey hospital on April 10, Kathleen Ronan thought the worst was behind her. For a week before her husband rushed her to the emergency department (ED), incoherent and struggling to breathe, the novel coronavirus had ravaged her body. She tried to treat her fevers with acetaminophen and ice packs. Despite taking enough Tylenol to risk liver damage and packing herself on ice like the catch of the day, Ronan’s fever continued to rise. By the time her temperature reached 104.5° F, Ronan knew the time had come for more drastic measures.

A team of masked and gowned nurses greeted her at a triage tent outside the ED, and from there, everything becomes hazy for Ronan. She was immediately rushed to the hospital’s special COVID-19 intensive care unit (ICU), where she spent 5 days. But she has few distinct memories from this time. What she does remember is the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. Her family couldn’t visit, and though Ronan works as a home health nurse, her brain was so addled with fever that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. After a week in the hospital, 5 days of which were spent in the ICU, 51-year-old Ronan was discharged.

Her years of working as a home health nurse told her that the return home wouldn’t be easy, but nothing prepared her for just how much she would struggle. The once-active Ronan, who had supplemented long days on her feet caring for others as a nurse with regular trips to the gym, now needed a walker to traverse the few steps from her bed to the toilet, an effort that left her gasping for air. Her brain couldn’t even focus on an audiobook, let alone a short magazine article.

“It just completely knocked the stuffing out of me,” Ronan said.

Ronan’s lingering symptoms aren’t unique to COVID-19 patients. In as many as 80% of patients leaving the ICU, researchers have documented what they call post–intensive care syndrome (PICS) — a constellation of physical, cognitive, and psychiatric symptoms that result from an ICU stay. Although underlying illness plays a role in these symptoms, the amount of time spent in critical care is a major factor.

Nor is PICS simply a set of side effects that will go away on their own. It includes ongoing cognitive difficulties and physical weakness, both of which can lead to employment problems. Beyond that, depression and anxiety can exacerbate – and be exacerbated by – these challenges. Psychologist Jim Jackson, PsyD, assistant director of the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee, recently spoke with a former ICU patient who has struggled since her discharge 30 years ago.

“Her life essentially stopped with her critical care stay. She hasn’t been able to move forward,” he said. “She’s part of a whole fraternity of people who are struggling.”

The good news is that over the past decade, researchers have made important strides in understanding what makes PICS symptoms worse and how critical care physicians can tweak ICU protocols to reduce PICS severity. Practitioners will need to draw on this knowledge to help Ronan and the thousands of COVID-19 ICU patients like her.
 

Surviving the ICU

Although the new coronavirus has pushed the world’s critical care system to its limits, it was an outbreak in 1952 that inspired the creation of intensive care units. That summer, a wave of paralytic polio swept over Copenhagen, Denmark, and anesthesiologist Bjørn Ibsen, MD, PhD, used mechanical ventilation — physically operated by medical and dental students – to help 316 children breathe for weeks at a time while their small bodies worked to fight off the virus. The effort halved the mortality rate from polio that affected breathing, from 80% to 40%.

In these wards, dedicated to the very sickest, each patient was assigned his or her own nurse. Over the next decade, hospitals in the United Kingdom and the United States established their own ICUs to treat patients with a variety of conditions. Although it helped improve survival, mortality rates in critical care units remained stubbornly high, owing to the patients’ severe underlying illnesses.

“We thought we were doing a good job if the patient survived, but we had no idea what happened after discharge,” said Carla Sevin, MD, medical director of Vanderbilt’s ICU Recovery Center. Nor did their efforts to find out always bring answers. “We struggled to get people to come in for support — they were debilitated, physically burdened, and weak.”

Through further advances in life support, by the early 2000s, the average mortality rates in American ICUs had dropped to 8% to 19%. As the number of critical care survivors began to climb, clinical researchers noticed that the lives of these patients and their families were profoundly altered by their severe illness.

As Dale Needham, MD, PhD, began his pulmonology and critical care residency in Toronto, Canada, in 2005, a group of physicians there began a 5-year longitudinal study to assess long-term outcomes of patients who developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Although ARDS is an acute condition, the investigators found that patients felt effects for years. Younger patients recovered better than older ones, but none of the patients› physical functioning was equivalent to that of age-matched control persons. Even 5 years later, former ICU patients only reached 76% of expected physical functioning, according to results published in the New England Journal of Medicine. The study was a wake-up call.

At a meeting in Chicago in 2010, Needham, now an intensivist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, gathered an interdisciplinary group of colleagues, including patients and caregivers, to clarify the phenomena they were seeing. What emerged from that meeting, published in 2012 in Critical Care Medicine, were the diagnostic criteria for PICS: According to the new definition, PICS is characterized by new or worsening physical and neuropsychiatric deficits that range from forgetfulness and loss of motivation to physical weakness and insomnia.

The issue, Needham says, is that although the trouble starts in the ICU, it only becomes clear once patients leave. “ICU doctors aren’t the ones dealing with this,” Needham said. “We need to build stronger bridges between critical care and other professions.” That’s where PICS comes in, a definition that exists explicitly to alert healthcare providers about the constellation of challenges many of these individuals face as they try to reenter “normal” life.
 

Defining the problem

As an ICU nurse at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, Annie Johnson, ACNP-BC, knew lots about helping hospitalized patients, but she says she didn’t know anything about what to do after discharge – at least not until her own mother became a patient.

On the first day of retirement in October 2014, Johnson’s mother flatlined. Quick-thinking paramedics resuscitated her, and after several days in critical care, she was discharged. Since then, her heart has remained healthy. Johnson’s sister, who spent time worrying over her mother at the hospital, also had lingering effects. Both have since struggled, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.

Johnson initially believed her mom’s and sister’s neuropsychiatric, post-ICU struggles were unique to her family. It was only a year later, at a seminar she was attending, that she first heard the words “post–intensive care syndrome.” Suddenly, Johnson had a name for her family’s experiences, and she began to create support groups and resources to help other families like hers.

“I thought of all the patients I had treated over the years who had been on ventilators for days and days and days. And if this happened to my mom after 48 hours, what must they be going through?” she asked.

Once physicians formally defined PICS, the Society for Critical Care Medicine helped create programs to educate ICU staff, patients, and families about potential post-discharge challenges. Researchers also began to investigate factors affecting post-ICU functioning. Follow-up studies of patients with delirium (ranging from general confusion about time and place to extreme agitation and violence) showed they had striking cognitive deficits. Problems with short-term memory, flexible thinking, and motivation plagued patients for years after their critical illness, similar to the physical deficiencies seen after ARDS. Delirium was one of the strongest risk factors for neuropsychiatric problems.

“Delirium is basically a stress test for the brain,” said Babar Khan, MD, a critical care specialist at Indiana University’s Regenstrief Institute, in Bloomington. But whether delirium accentuates preexisting cognitive difficulties or creates them afresh isn’t yet clear.

Sophia Wang, MD, a geriatric psychiatrist at Indiana University who works with many critical care patients, says patients who had experienced delirium in the ICU showed significant defects in memory and executive functioning long after their hospital stay. She points to a 2015 study that followed 47 ICU patients for a year post discharge. Among those who experienced delirium, brain volumes, as measured by MRI, were smaller at 3 months, something associated with cognitive problems at 1 year. Many struggled at work, and unemployment was common. Depression and posttraumatic stress compounded these difficulties. Among those with acute respiratory distress, ICU patients who are young, female, and unemployed are most likely to suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder after they are discharge.

Critical care medicine may have given these patients a second chance at life, Wang says, but the life they return to often looks nothing like the one they had before their illness.

Prolonged mechanical ventilation and the heavy sedation that often accompanies it are predictors of PICS severity. Some of these links could be explained by the gravity of the illness that landed someone in critical care, but others are more likely to be iatrogenic, says Gerald Weinhouse, MD, a pulmonology and critical care physician and co-director of the Critical Illness Recovery Program at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. The involvement of loved ones at the patient’s bedside, however, improved the entire family’s outcome.

When Weinhouse saw those data, he and his colleagues founded a peer support program for ICU survivors. In a study published in 2019 in Critical Care Medicine, they identified six different models for peer support for those with PICS and their families, including both online and in-person approaches. An ongoing challenge for physicians, Weinhouse says, is getting patients to engage with these programs, given that their calendars are crowded with medical appointments and that they suffer from increased physical and mental disability.

Studies such as these led critical care physicians to form the ICU Liberation Collaborative to rethink critical care medicine. At Vanderbilt, Sevin and Jackson headed up one of the world’s first post-ICU clinics, which uses an interdisciplinary team to help patients maximize their functioning. They redesigned their critical care unit in a way that allows families to spend the night and that encourages patient mobility. Both Needham and Weinhouse continue tracking patient outcomes.

Even before the novel coronavirus struck, the United States — and the world — had begun to realize that graduating from the ICU was only the start of what was often an extensive recovery.
 

The long road back

When COVID-19 patients began flooding intensive care wards around the world, physicians scrambled to meet their complex and desperate acute medical needs. Over the past few months, physicians have focused on keeping these patients alive. “We’ve never seen anything like it ― not even during polio — with the sheer number of patients, all with respiratory distress,” Needham said.

But he and his colleagues know this is only the beginning.

“We’re aware that survivorship issues are coming. There’s going to be a wave of sick people who survived the coronavirus but are going to need more help,” Weinhouse said.

Intensivists have been drawing on PICS research in their fight to help COVID-19 patients. Work from the past few years has shown that although sedation is required during intubation itself, not everyone needs it while on a ventilator. Titrating down sedating medication helps reduce delirium, Wang says. Such medication has been shown to contribute to later cognitive problems. Needham’s studies showing that prolonged bedrest by ICU patients causes muscular atrophy has led him to encourage patients to move as much as possible. With the help of physical therapists, many patients on ventilators can be awake, alert, and moving around the ward.

One of the biggest challenges critical-care coronavirus patients face is prolonged isolation. The constant presence of a familiar face helps orient confused and delirious patients and provides emotional support during a frightening time. But because the immediate need for infection control outweighs these benefits, few hospitals allow visitors, especially for COVID-19 patients.

To address this, some units have been using video technology to allow loved ones to call in. At Johns Hopkins, physicians have also been relying on the expertise of occupational therapists (OTs). Needham says that one OT found that rubbing the hand and back of an agitated, delirious patient helped soothe and calm him better than many medications.

Ronan, who spent 5 days in intensive care, echoes that problem. She says she found the relative lack of human contact to be one of the most challenging parts of being in a bed on a COVID-19 ward. Separated from her husband and daughter, suffering from high fever and severe illness, she lost all track of time.

Her return home was difficult, too. Although her job as a home health nurse had prepared her on some level for the challenges she would face after discharge, Ronan says the hospital provided little practical help.

“Everything is so much harder at home, even little things like going to the bathroom,” she said. “I feel like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teacup.”

Khan and other physicians, aware of the challenges Ronan and others face once home, aim to create post-ICU clinics specifically for COVID-19 patients. They want to build what Khan calls a “one-stop shop” for all the support patients need to recover. Some of that can be provided via telehealth, which may also help ease the physical burden.

Because there’s so much physicians don’t know about the coronavirus, Johnson says, such clinics are not only a chance to help the sickest COVID-19 patients, they will also help researchers learn more about the virus and improve critical care for other illnesses.

Today, nearly 2 months after discharge, Ronan is back on the job but struggles with a persistent cough — likely due to the lung damage she sustained while ill. She has constant fatigue, as well as ongoing upset stomach from all the medications she took to reduce fever and body aches. When she dons a mask for work, the tangible reminder of her hospital stay sends her into a panic attack. Physically, she’s weaker than before.

Researchers are still trying to understand everything that Ronan and other COVID-19 patients need to move on with their lives after being in the ICU. Mysteries abound, but the ground laid by Sevin, Needham, Weinhouse, and others has provided a solid foundation on which to build.
 

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Adjunctive preventive therapy with a calcitonin gene–related peptide monoclonal antibody (CGRP-mAb) medication is safe and effective in patients with chronic migraine who have only achieved a partial response to onabotulinumtoxinA (Botox) treatment. Investigators found the CGRP-mAbs significantly reduced the number of headache days and pain severity with adverse event rates similar to those reported in previous trials of these medications.

“The addition of a CGRP monoclonal antibody provided statistically significantly fewer monthly headache days,” said study investigator Fred Cohen, MD, an internal medicine resident physician at Montefiore Health System, New York. “However, this was a retrospective chart review, which is hindered by elements such as recall bias. Therefore, future prospective studies are warranted for higher quality data.”

The findings were presented at the virtual annual meeting of the American Headache Society.
 

Fewer headache days

Although Botox is associated with significant clinical improvement in chronic migraine, it often fails to adequately control headache frequency and additional medications are needed.

The CGRP-mAbs fremanezumab, galcanezumab, and erenumab, have recently been approved for migraine prevention, with results from clinical trials demonstrating they are effective for both chronic and episodic migraine. However, patients treated with Botox were excluded from these trials and to date there are no data on combination treatment with Botox and CGRP-mAbs.

To determine whether adjunctive treatment with CGRP-mAbs augments Botox therapy in chronic migraine the investigators conducted a retrospective chart review of patients receiving Botox and prescribed a CGRP-mAb.

Eligible patients met the International Classification of Headache Disorders, 3rd edition, criteria for chronic migraine; were age 18 years or older; and presented at a single headache center between May 2018 and May 2019. Patients who received another new therapy during the study or those taking CGRP-mAb treatment for less than 2 months were excluded.

The study’s primary outcome was change in the number of reported monthly headache days, and change in pain severity was the secondary outcome.

The final analysis included data on 153 patients. The population’s mean age was 47.1 years, and 139 patients (90.8%) were women. In all, 89 patients (58.0%) received erenumab (35 received 70 mg and 54 received 140 mg), 51 (33.0%) received galcanezumab, and 13 (9.0%) received fremanezumab.

Overall, 114 (74.5%) patients reported a decrease in monthly headache days or pain severity. In the group of 66 patients for whom quantitative data were available, the average number of monthly headache days before Botox treatment was 25.7. After Botox treatment, patients had an average decrease of 10.9 monthly headache days, a 42.4% reduction, so on average study participants continued to have an average of 14.8 monthly headache days.

After treatment with a CGRP-mAb the number decreased by 5.6 additional days (37.8%). Patients receiving combined therapy had an average of 9.1 monthly headache days. The total decrease from baseline was 16.6 fewer monthly headache days, a 64.6% reduction.

The number of headache days per month was reduced to 9.3 for erenumab and galcanezumab and 5.8 for fremanezumab. However, few patients in the study took fremanezumab so this result had less statistical power than the results for the other CGRP-mAbs.

A total of 13 patients (8.5%) reported side effects associated with the CGRP-mAbs, which included constipation, injection-site reaction, and fatigue.
 

More evidence is needed

Commenting on the findings, Peter McAllister, MD, medical director of the New England Institute for Neurology and Headache in Stamford, Conn., said the study’s main limitation is that it is a retrospective chart review, which yields lower level evidence than a prospective, double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Dr. McAllister, who was not involved in the research, also noted that the sample size was small, particularly with respect to fremanezumab.

“This study, despite its limitations, shows that addition of a monoclonal antibody to onabotulinumtoxinA is safe and well tolerated, and may confer additional reduction in migraine or headache days. The authors correctly state that more evidence via prospective study is warranted,” said Dr. McAllister, who is also chief medical officer of the New England Institute for Clinical Research and was not involved in the investigation.

Dr. Cohen has reported no relevant financial relationships. Dr. McAllister was an investigator in the PREEMPT trial of onabotulinumtoxinA, as well as in all of the phase 3 monoclonal antibody studies.

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

Adjunctive preventive therapy with a calcitonin gene–related peptide monoclonal antibody (CGRP-mAb) medication is safe and effective in patients with chronic migraine who have only achieved a partial response to onabotulinumtoxinA (Botox) treatment. Investigators found the CGRP-mAbs significantly reduced the number of headache days and pain severity with adverse event rates similar to those reported in previous trials of these medications.

“The addition of a CGRP monoclonal antibody provided statistically significantly fewer monthly headache days,” said study investigator Fred Cohen, MD, an internal medicine resident physician at Montefiore Health System, New York. “However, this was a retrospective chart review, which is hindered by elements such as recall bias. Therefore, future prospective studies are warranted for higher quality data.”

The findings were presented at the virtual annual meeting of the American Headache Society.
 

Fewer headache days

Although Botox is associated with significant clinical improvement in chronic migraine, it often fails to adequately control headache frequency and additional medications are needed.

The CGRP-mAbs fremanezumab, galcanezumab, and erenumab, have recently been approved for migraine prevention, with results from clinical trials demonstrating they are effective for both chronic and episodic migraine. However, patients treated with Botox were excluded from these trials and to date there are no data on combination treatment with Botox and CGRP-mAbs.

To determine whether adjunctive treatment with CGRP-mAbs augments Botox therapy in chronic migraine the investigators conducted a retrospective chart review of patients receiving Botox and prescribed a CGRP-mAb.

Eligible patients met the International Classification of Headache Disorders, 3rd edition, criteria for chronic migraine; were age 18 years or older; and presented at a single headache center between May 2018 and May 2019. Patients who received another new therapy during the study or those taking CGRP-mAb treatment for less than 2 months were excluded.

The study’s primary outcome was change in the number of reported monthly headache days, and change in pain severity was the secondary outcome.

The final analysis included data on 153 patients. The population’s mean age was 47.1 years, and 139 patients (90.8%) were women. In all, 89 patients (58.0%) received erenumab (35 received 70 mg and 54 received 140 mg), 51 (33.0%) received galcanezumab, and 13 (9.0%) received fremanezumab.

Overall, 114 (74.5%) patients reported a decrease in monthly headache days or pain severity. In the group of 66 patients for whom quantitative data were available, the average number of monthly headache days before Botox treatment was 25.7. After Botox treatment, patients had an average decrease of 10.9 monthly headache days, a 42.4% reduction, so on average study participants continued to have an average of 14.8 monthly headache days.

After treatment with a CGRP-mAb the number decreased by 5.6 additional days (37.8%). Patients receiving combined therapy had an average of 9.1 monthly headache days. The total decrease from baseline was 16.6 fewer monthly headache days, a 64.6% reduction.

The number of headache days per month was reduced to 9.3 for erenumab and galcanezumab and 5.8 for fremanezumab. However, few patients in the study took fremanezumab so this result had less statistical power than the results for the other CGRP-mAbs.

A total of 13 patients (8.5%) reported side effects associated with the CGRP-mAbs, which included constipation, injection-site reaction, and fatigue.
 

More evidence is needed

Commenting on the findings, Peter McAllister, MD, medical director of the New England Institute for Neurology and Headache in Stamford, Conn., said the study’s main limitation is that it is a retrospective chart review, which yields lower level evidence than a prospective, double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Dr. McAllister, who was not involved in the research, also noted that the sample size was small, particularly with respect to fremanezumab.

“This study, despite its limitations, shows that addition of a monoclonal antibody to onabotulinumtoxinA is safe and well tolerated, and may confer additional reduction in migraine or headache days. The authors correctly state that more evidence via prospective study is warranted,” said Dr. McAllister, who is also chief medical officer of the New England Institute for Clinical Research and was not involved in the investigation.

Dr. Cohen has reported no relevant financial relationships. Dr. McAllister was an investigator in the PREEMPT trial of onabotulinumtoxinA, as well as in all of the phase 3 monoclonal antibody studies.

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

Adjunctive preventive therapy with a calcitonin gene–related peptide monoclonal antibody (CGRP-mAb) medication is safe and effective in patients with chronic migraine who have only achieved a partial response to onabotulinumtoxinA (Botox) treatment. Investigators found the CGRP-mAbs significantly reduced the number of headache days and pain severity with adverse event rates similar to those reported in previous trials of these medications.

“The addition of a CGRP monoclonal antibody provided statistically significantly fewer monthly headache days,” said study investigator Fred Cohen, MD, an internal medicine resident physician at Montefiore Health System, New York. “However, this was a retrospective chart review, which is hindered by elements such as recall bias. Therefore, future prospective studies are warranted for higher quality data.”

The findings were presented at the virtual annual meeting of the American Headache Society.
 

Fewer headache days

Although Botox is associated with significant clinical improvement in chronic migraine, it often fails to adequately control headache frequency and additional medications are needed.

The CGRP-mAbs fremanezumab, galcanezumab, and erenumab, have recently been approved for migraine prevention, with results from clinical trials demonstrating they are effective for both chronic and episodic migraine. However, patients treated with Botox were excluded from these trials and to date there are no data on combination treatment with Botox and CGRP-mAbs.

To determine whether adjunctive treatment with CGRP-mAbs augments Botox therapy in chronic migraine the investigators conducted a retrospective chart review of patients receiving Botox and prescribed a CGRP-mAb.

Eligible patients met the International Classification of Headache Disorders, 3rd edition, criteria for chronic migraine; were age 18 years or older; and presented at a single headache center between May 2018 and May 2019. Patients who received another new therapy during the study or those taking CGRP-mAb treatment for less than 2 months were excluded.

The study’s primary outcome was change in the number of reported monthly headache days, and change in pain severity was the secondary outcome.

The final analysis included data on 153 patients. The population’s mean age was 47.1 years, and 139 patients (90.8%) were women. In all, 89 patients (58.0%) received erenumab (35 received 70 mg and 54 received 140 mg), 51 (33.0%) received galcanezumab, and 13 (9.0%) received fremanezumab.

Overall, 114 (74.5%) patients reported a decrease in monthly headache days or pain severity. In the group of 66 patients for whom quantitative data were available, the average number of monthly headache days before Botox treatment was 25.7. After Botox treatment, patients had an average decrease of 10.9 monthly headache days, a 42.4% reduction, so on average study participants continued to have an average of 14.8 monthly headache days.

After treatment with a CGRP-mAb the number decreased by 5.6 additional days (37.8%). Patients receiving combined therapy had an average of 9.1 monthly headache days. The total decrease from baseline was 16.6 fewer monthly headache days, a 64.6% reduction.

The number of headache days per month was reduced to 9.3 for erenumab and galcanezumab and 5.8 for fremanezumab. However, few patients in the study took fremanezumab so this result had less statistical power than the results for the other CGRP-mAbs.

A total of 13 patients (8.5%) reported side effects associated with the CGRP-mAbs, which included constipation, injection-site reaction, and fatigue.
 

More evidence is needed

Commenting on the findings, Peter McAllister, MD, medical director of the New England Institute for Neurology and Headache in Stamford, Conn., said the study’s main limitation is that it is a retrospective chart review, which yields lower level evidence than a prospective, double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Dr. McAllister, who was not involved in the research, also noted that the sample size was small, particularly with respect to fremanezumab.

“This study, despite its limitations, shows that addition of a monoclonal antibody to onabotulinumtoxinA is safe and well tolerated, and may confer additional reduction in migraine or headache days. The authors correctly state that more evidence via prospective study is warranted,” said Dr. McAllister, who is also chief medical officer of the New England Institute for Clinical Research and was not involved in the investigation.

Dr. Cohen has reported no relevant financial relationships. Dr. McAllister was an investigator in the PREEMPT trial of onabotulinumtoxinA, as well as in all of the phase 3 monoclonal antibody studies.

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

The challenges posed by COVID-19 have crippled health care systems around the globe. By February 2020, the first outbreak in the United States had been set off in Washington State. We quickly became the world’s epicenter of the epidemic, with over 1.8 million patients and over 110,000 deaths.¹ The rapidity of spread and the severity of the disease created a tremendous strain on resources. It blindsided policymakers and hospital administrators, which left little time to react to the challenges placed on hospital operations all over the country.

The necessity of a new care model

Although health systems in the United States are adept in managing complications of common seasonal viral respiratory illnesses, COVID-19 presented an entirely different challenge with its significantly higher mortality rate. A respiratory disease turning into a multiorgan disease that causes debilitating cardiac, renal, neurological, hematological, and psychosocial complications² was not something we had experience managing effectively. Additional challenges included a massive surge of COVID-19 patients, a limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), an inadequate number of intensivists for managing the anticipated ventilated patients, and most importantly, the potential of losing some of our workforce if they became infected.

Based on the experiences in China and Italy, and various predictive models, the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health quickly realized the necessity of a new model of care for COVID-19 patients. We came up with an elaborate plan to manage the disease burden and the strain on resources effectively. The measures we put in place could be broadly divided into three categories following the timeline of the disease: the preparatory phase, the execution phase, and the maintenance phase.
 

The preparatory phase: From “Hospitalists” to “COVIDists”

As in most hospitals around the country, hospitalists are the backbone of inpatient clinical operations at our health system. A focused group of 10 hospitalists who volunteered to take care of COVID-19 patients with a particular interest in the pandemic and experience in critical care were selected, and the term “COVIDists” was coined to refer to them.

COVIDists were trained in various treatment protocols and ongoing clinical trials. They were given refresher training in Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) and Fundamental Critical Care Support (FCCS) courses and were taught in critical care/ventilator management by the intensivists through rapid indoctrination in the ICU. All of them had their N-95 mask fitting updated and were trained in the safe donning and doffing of all kinds of PPE by PPE coaches. The palliative care team trained them in conducting end-of-life/code status discussions with a focus on being unable to speak with family members at the bedside. COVIDists were also assigned as Code Blue leaders for any “COVID code blue” in the hospital.

In addition to the rapid training course, COVID-related updates were disseminated daily using three different modalities: brief huddles at the start of the day with the COVIDists; a COVID-19 newsletter summarizing daily updates, new treatments, strategies, and policies; and a WhatsApp group for instantly broadcasting information to the COVIDists (Table 1).

The execution phase

All the hospitalized COVID-19 patients were grouped together to COVID units, and the COVIDists were deployed to those units geographically. COVIDists were given lighter than usual patient loads to deal with the extra time needed for donning and doffing of PPE and for coordination with specialists. COVIDists were almost the only clinicians physically visiting the patients in most cases, and they became the “eyes and ears” of specialists since the specialists were advised to minimize exposure and pursue telemedicine consults. The COVIDists were also undertaking the most challenging part of the care – talking to families about end-of-life issues and the futility of aggressive care in certain patients with preexisting conditions.

Some COVIDists were deployed to the ICU to work alongside the intensivists and became an invaluable resource in ICU management when the ICU census skyrocketed during the initial phase of the outbreak. This helped in tiding the health system over during the initial crisis. Within a short time, we shifted away from an early intubation strategy, and most of the ICU patients were managed in the intermediate care units on high flow oxygen along with the awake-proning protocol. The COVIDists exclusively managed these units. They led multidisciplinary rounds two times a day with the ICU, rapid response team (RRT), the palliative care team, and the nursing team. This step drastically decreased the number of intubations, RRT activations, reduced ICU census,³ and helped with hospital capacity and patient flow (Tables 2 and 3).

The maintenance phase

It is already 2 months since the first devising COVIDists. There is no difference in sick callouts between COVIDists and non-COVIDists. One COVIDist and one non-COVIDist contracted the disease, but none of them required hospitalization. Although we initially thought that COVIDists would be needed for only a short period of time, the evolution of the disease is showing signs that it might be prolonged over the next several months. Hence, we are planning to continue COVIDist service for at least the next 6 months and reevaluate the need.

Hospital medicine leadership checked on COVIDists daily in regard to their physical health and, more importantly, their mental well-being. They were offered the chance to be taken off the schedule if they felt burned out, but no one wanted to come off their scheduled service before finishing their shifts. BlueCross MA recognized one of the COVIDists, Raghuveer Rakasi, MD, as a “hero on the front line.”⁴ In Dr. Rakasi’s words, “We took a nosedive into something without knowing its depth, and aware that we could have fatalities among ourselves. We took up new roles, faced new challenges, learned new things every day, evolving every step of the way. We had to change the way we practice medicine, finding new ways to treat patients, and protecting the workforce by limiting patient exposure, prioritizing investigations.” He added that “we have to adapt to a new normal; we should be prepared for this to come in waves. Putting aside our political views, we should stand united 6 feet apart, with a mask covering our brave faces, frequently washing our helping hands to overcome these uncertain times.”
 

Conclusion

The creation of a focused group of hospitalists called COVIDists and providing them with structured and rapid training (in various aspects of clinical care of COVID-19 patients, critical care/ventilator management, efficient and safe use of PPE) and daily information dissemination allowed our health system to prepare for the large volume of COVID-19 patients. It also helped in preserving the larger hospital workforce for a possible future surge.

The rapid development and implementation of the COVIDist strategy succeeded because of the intrinsic motivation of the providers to improve the outcomes of this high-risk patient population and the close collaboration of the stakeholders. Our institution remains successful in managing the pandemic in Western Massachusetts, with reserve capacity remaining even during the peak of the epidemic. A large part of this was because of creating and training a pool of COVIDists.
 

Dr. Medarametla is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health, and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Worcester. Readers can contact him at [email protected]. Dr. Prabhakaran is unit medical director, geriatrics unit, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Bryson is associate program director of the Internal Medicine Residency at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Umar is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health. Dr. Natanasabapathy is division chief of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Updated Jun 10, 2020. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html.

2. Zhou F et al. Clinical course and risk factors for mortality of adult inpatients with COVID-19 in Wuhan, China: A retrospective cohort study. Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395(10229):1054-62.

3. Westafer LM et al. A transdisciplinary COVID-19 early respiratory intervention protocol: An implementation story. J Hosp Med. 2020 May 21;15(6):372-374.

4. Miller J. “Heroes on the front line: Dr. Raghuveer Rakasi.” Coverage. May 18, 2020. https://coverage.bluecrossma.com/article/heroes-front-line-dr-raghuveer-rakasi

The challenges posed by COVID-19 have crippled health care systems around the globe. By February 2020, the first outbreak in the United States had been set off in Washington State. We quickly became the world’s epicenter of the epidemic, with over 1.8 million patients and over 110,000 deaths.¹ The rapidity of spread and the severity of the disease created a tremendous strain on resources. It blindsided policymakers and hospital administrators, which left little time to react to the challenges placed on hospital operations all over the country.

The necessity of a new care model

Although health systems in the United States are adept in managing complications of common seasonal viral respiratory illnesses, COVID-19 presented an entirely different challenge with its significantly higher mortality rate. A respiratory disease turning into a multiorgan disease that causes debilitating cardiac, renal, neurological, hematological, and psychosocial complications² was not something we had experience managing effectively. Additional challenges included a massive surge of COVID-19 patients, a limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), an inadequate number of intensivists for managing the anticipated ventilated patients, and most importantly, the potential of losing some of our workforce if they became infected.

Based on the experiences in China and Italy, and various predictive models, the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health quickly realized the necessity of a new model of care for COVID-19 patients. We came up with an elaborate plan to manage the disease burden and the strain on resources effectively. The measures we put in place could be broadly divided into three categories following the timeline of the disease: the preparatory phase, the execution phase, and the maintenance phase.
 

The preparatory phase: From “Hospitalists” to “COVIDists”

As in most hospitals around the country, hospitalists are the backbone of inpatient clinical operations at our health system. A focused group of 10 hospitalists who volunteered to take care of COVID-19 patients with a particular interest in the pandemic and experience in critical care were selected, and the term “COVIDists” was coined to refer to them.

COVIDists were trained in various treatment protocols and ongoing clinical trials. They were given refresher training in Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) and Fundamental Critical Care Support (FCCS) courses and were taught in critical care/ventilator management by the intensivists through rapid indoctrination in the ICU. All of them had their N-95 mask fitting updated and were trained in the safe donning and doffing of all kinds of PPE by PPE coaches. The palliative care team trained them in conducting end-of-life/code status discussions with a focus on being unable to speak with family members at the bedside. COVIDists were also assigned as Code Blue leaders for any “COVID code blue” in the hospital.

In addition to the rapid training course, COVID-related updates were disseminated daily using three different modalities: brief huddles at the start of the day with the COVIDists; a COVID-19 newsletter summarizing daily updates, new treatments, strategies, and policies; and a WhatsApp group for instantly broadcasting information to the COVIDists (Table 1).

The execution phase

All the hospitalized COVID-19 patients were grouped together to COVID units, and the COVIDists were deployed to those units geographically. COVIDists were given lighter than usual patient loads to deal with the extra time needed for donning and doffing of PPE and for coordination with specialists. COVIDists were almost the only clinicians physically visiting the patients in most cases, and they became the “eyes and ears” of specialists since the specialists were advised to minimize exposure and pursue telemedicine consults. The COVIDists were also undertaking the most challenging part of the care – talking to families about end-of-life issues and the futility of aggressive care in certain patients with preexisting conditions.

Some COVIDists were deployed to the ICU to work alongside the intensivists and became an invaluable resource in ICU management when the ICU census skyrocketed during the initial phase of the outbreak. This helped in tiding the health system over during the initial crisis. Within a short time, we shifted away from an early intubation strategy, and most of the ICU patients were managed in the intermediate care units on high flow oxygen along with the awake-proning protocol. The COVIDists exclusively managed these units. They led multidisciplinary rounds two times a day with the ICU, rapid response team (RRT), the palliative care team, and the nursing team. This step drastically decreased the number of intubations, RRT activations, reduced ICU census,³ and helped with hospital capacity and patient flow (Tables 2 and 3).

The maintenance phase

It is already 2 months since the first devising COVIDists. There is no difference in sick callouts between COVIDists and non-COVIDists. One COVIDist and one non-COVIDist contracted the disease, but none of them required hospitalization. Although we initially thought that COVIDists would be needed for only a short period of time, the evolution of the disease is showing signs that it might be prolonged over the next several months. Hence, we are planning to continue COVIDist service for at least the next 6 months and reevaluate the need.

Hospital medicine leadership checked on COVIDists daily in regard to their physical health and, more importantly, their mental well-being. They were offered the chance to be taken off the schedule if they felt burned out, but no one wanted to come off their scheduled service before finishing their shifts. BlueCross MA recognized one of the COVIDists, Raghuveer Rakasi, MD, as a “hero on the front line.”⁴ In Dr. Rakasi’s words, “We took a nosedive into something without knowing its depth, and aware that we could have fatalities among ourselves. We took up new roles, faced new challenges, learned new things every day, evolving every step of the way. We had to change the way we practice medicine, finding new ways to treat patients, and protecting the workforce by limiting patient exposure, prioritizing investigations.” He added that “we have to adapt to a new normal; we should be prepared for this to come in waves. Putting aside our political views, we should stand united 6 feet apart, with a mask covering our brave faces, frequently washing our helping hands to overcome these uncertain times.”
 

Conclusion

The creation of a focused group of hospitalists called COVIDists and providing them with structured and rapid training (in various aspects of clinical care of COVID-19 patients, critical care/ventilator management, efficient and safe use of PPE) and daily information dissemination allowed our health system to prepare for the large volume of COVID-19 patients. It also helped in preserving the larger hospital workforce for a possible future surge.

The rapid development and implementation of the COVIDist strategy succeeded because of the intrinsic motivation of the providers to improve the outcomes of this high-risk patient population and the close collaboration of the stakeholders. Our institution remains successful in managing the pandemic in Western Massachusetts, with reserve capacity remaining even during the peak of the epidemic. A large part of this was because of creating and training a pool of COVIDists.
 

Dr. Medarametla is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health, and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Worcester. Readers can contact him at [email protected]. Dr. Prabhakaran is unit medical director, geriatrics unit, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Bryson is associate program director of the Internal Medicine Residency at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Umar is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health. Dr. Natanasabapathy is division chief of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Updated Jun 10, 2020. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html.

2. Zhou F et al. Clinical course and risk factors for mortality of adult inpatients with COVID-19 in Wuhan, China: A retrospective cohort study. Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395(10229):1054-62.

3. Westafer LM et al. A transdisciplinary COVID-19 early respiratory intervention protocol: An implementation story. J Hosp Med. 2020 May 21;15(6):372-374.

4. Miller J. “Heroes on the front line: Dr. Raghuveer Rakasi.” Coverage. May 18, 2020. https://coverage.bluecrossma.com/article/heroes-front-line-dr-raghuveer-rakasi

The challenges posed by COVID-19 have crippled health care systems around the globe. By February 2020, the first outbreak in the United States had been set off in Washington State. We quickly became the world’s epicenter of the epidemic, with over 1.8 million patients and over 110,000 deaths.¹ The rapidity of spread and the severity of the disease created a tremendous strain on resources. It blindsided policymakers and hospital administrators, which left little time to react to the challenges placed on hospital operations all over the country.

The necessity of a new care model

Although health systems in the United States are adept in managing complications of common seasonal viral respiratory illnesses, COVID-19 presented an entirely different challenge with its significantly higher mortality rate. A respiratory disease turning into a multiorgan disease that causes debilitating cardiac, renal, neurological, hematological, and psychosocial complications² was not something we had experience managing effectively. Additional challenges included a massive surge of COVID-19 patients, a limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), an inadequate number of intensivists for managing the anticipated ventilated patients, and most importantly, the potential of losing some of our workforce if they became infected.

Based on the experiences in China and Italy, and various predictive models, the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health quickly realized the necessity of a new model of care for COVID-19 patients. We came up with an elaborate plan to manage the disease burden and the strain on resources effectively. The measures we put in place could be broadly divided into three categories following the timeline of the disease: the preparatory phase, the execution phase, and the maintenance phase.
 

The preparatory phase: From “Hospitalists” to “COVIDists”

As in most hospitals around the country, hospitalists are the backbone of inpatient clinical operations at our health system. A focused group of 10 hospitalists who volunteered to take care of COVID-19 patients with a particular interest in the pandemic and experience in critical care were selected, and the term “COVIDists” was coined to refer to them.

COVIDists were trained in various treatment protocols and ongoing clinical trials. They were given refresher training in Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) and Fundamental Critical Care Support (FCCS) courses and were taught in critical care/ventilator management by the intensivists through rapid indoctrination in the ICU. All of them had their N-95 mask fitting updated and were trained in the safe donning and doffing of all kinds of PPE by PPE coaches. The palliative care team trained them in conducting end-of-life/code status discussions with a focus on being unable to speak with family members at the bedside. COVIDists were also assigned as Code Blue leaders for any “COVID code blue” in the hospital.

In addition to the rapid training course, COVID-related updates were disseminated daily using three different modalities: brief huddles at the start of the day with the COVIDists; a COVID-19 newsletter summarizing daily updates, new treatments, strategies, and policies; and a WhatsApp group for instantly broadcasting information to the COVIDists (Table 1).

The execution phase

All the hospitalized COVID-19 patients were grouped together to COVID units, and the COVIDists were deployed to those units geographically. COVIDists were given lighter than usual patient loads to deal with the extra time needed for donning and doffing of PPE and for coordination with specialists. COVIDists were almost the only clinicians physically visiting the patients in most cases, and they became the “eyes and ears” of specialists since the specialists were advised to minimize exposure and pursue telemedicine consults. The COVIDists were also undertaking the most challenging part of the care – talking to families about end-of-life issues and the futility of aggressive care in certain patients with preexisting conditions.

Some COVIDists were deployed to the ICU to work alongside the intensivists and became an invaluable resource in ICU management when the ICU census skyrocketed during the initial phase of the outbreak. This helped in tiding the health system over during the initial crisis. Within a short time, we shifted away from an early intubation strategy, and most of the ICU patients were managed in the intermediate care units on high flow oxygen along with the awake-proning protocol. The COVIDists exclusively managed these units. They led multidisciplinary rounds two times a day with the ICU, rapid response team (RRT), the palliative care team, and the nursing team. This step drastically decreased the number of intubations, RRT activations, reduced ICU census,³ and helped with hospital capacity and patient flow (Tables 2 and 3).

The maintenance phase

It is already 2 months since the first devising COVIDists. There is no difference in sick callouts between COVIDists and non-COVIDists. One COVIDist and one non-COVIDist contracted the disease, but none of them required hospitalization. Although we initially thought that COVIDists would be needed for only a short period of time, the evolution of the disease is showing signs that it might be prolonged over the next several months. Hence, we are planning to continue COVIDist service for at least the next 6 months and reevaluate the need.

Hospital medicine leadership checked on COVIDists daily in regard to their physical health and, more importantly, their mental well-being. They were offered the chance to be taken off the schedule if they felt burned out, but no one wanted to come off their scheduled service before finishing their shifts. BlueCross MA recognized one of the COVIDists, Raghuveer Rakasi, MD, as a “hero on the front line.”⁴ In Dr. Rakasi’s words, “We took a nosedive into something without knowing its depth, and aware that we could have fatalities among ourselves. We took up new roles, faced new challenges, learned new things every day, evolving every step of the way. We had to change the way we practice medicine, finding new ways to treat patients, and protecting the workforce by limiting patient exposure, prioritizing investigations.” He added that “we have to adapt to a new normal; we should be prepared for this to come in waves. Putting aside our political views, we should stand united 6 feet apart, with a mask covering our brave faces, frequently washing our helping hands to overcome these uncertain times.”
 

Conclusion

The creation of a focused group of hospitalists called COVIDists and providing them with structured and rapid training (in various aspects of clinical care of COVID-19 patients, critical care/ventilator management, efficient and safe use of PPE) and daily information dissemination allowed our health system to prepare for the large volume of COVID-19 patients. It also helped in preserving the larger hospital workforce for a possible future surge.

The rapid development and implementation of the COVIDist strategy succeeded because of the intrinsic motivation of the providers to improve the outcomes of this high-risk patient population and the close collaboration of the stakeholders. Our institution remains successful in managing the pandemic in Western Massachusetts, with reserve capacity remaining even during the peak of the epidemic. A large part of this was because of creating and training a pool of COVIDists.
 

Dr. Medarametla is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health, and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Worcester. Readers can contact him at [email protected]. Dr. Prabhakaran is unit medical director, geriatrics unit, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Bryson is associate program director of the Internal Medicine Residency at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Umar is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health. Dr. Natanasabapathy is division chief of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Updated Jun 10, 2020. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html.

2. Zhou F et al. Clinical course and risk factors for mortality of adult inpatients with COVID-19 in Wuhan, China: A retrospective cohort study. Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395(10229):1054-62.

3. Westafer LM et al. A transdisciplinary COVID-19 early respiratory intervention protocol: An implementation story. J Hosp Med. 2020 May 21;15(6):372-374.

4. Miller J. “Heroes on the front line: Dr. Raghuveer Rakasi.” Coverage. May 18, 2020. https://coverage.bluecrossma.com/article/heroes-front-line-dr-raghuveer-rakasi

I have an automatic preference for white people over black people. This isn’t my opinion; rather, it is my implicit bias test result. I didn’t believe it at first. Trying hard to not be biased, I took the test again and received the same outcome. My reaction – disbelief – is typical for those like me: White people who believe they are good human beings. I might be good, but that doesn’t mean I’m free of bias or exonerated from the harm being inflicted on people of color.

We’ve all watched in horror the acts of violence against blacks in the news. I was shocked and disgusted. It was easy to believe, however, that I am in no way complicit in the injustice and racism I was watching. I think I’m fair and without prejudice. I have never intentionally discriminated against someone. Wanting to help, I listened to my black colleagues, staff, and patients. What I learned made me uncomfortable.

Through all this news, I’d said little to my colleagues and friends. I cannot identify with how a black person has felt recently. What if I said the wrong thing or caused offense? The safe option is to say nothing. I learned that this is a common reaction and the least helpful. The advice from one black colleague was simple: “Just ask us.” Instead of ignoring the issue, she advised me to say: “I wonder what this experience has been like for you. Would you like to share?” And, if you mean it, to add, “I stand with you.” The latter should be followed by “What can I do to help?” Or, more powerfully, “What have I done that makes me complicit?”

Some of these conversations will be uncomfortable. If you want to help, then sit with that. Feeling uncomfortable might mean you are beginning to understand.

I also heard about the excellent book “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo, PhD. In it, she argues that it is difficult for white people to talk about racism because of a tendency to react with defensiveness, guilt, and sometimes anger.

Many of the chapters in the book were easy to read because they didn’t apply to me: I don’t get angry in equity, inclusion, and diversity meetings. I don’t resent affirmative action programs. But then Dr. DiAngelo got me: I believed because I’m a good person and I have no intention of being racist, I’m absolved. Her argument was enlightening. Like all white people in the United States, I have benefited from white privilege. Yes, I’ve worked hard, but I also grew up in a white family with a college-educated father. That alone afforded me academic and financial advantages, which pushed me ahead. I’ve benefited from the status quo.

I have also failed to speak up when white friends carried on about how unnecessary affirmative action programs have become. I’ve sat with sealed lips when I’ve heard comments like “As a white male, it’s a lot harder to get into prestigious schools now.” Having no intention to harm doesn’t matter; plenty of harm is done unintentionally.

I also believed that because I have good intentions, I have no racial bias. I was wrong. The test I took online is an excellent tool to combat this blind spot. It was created by Harvard researchers and is available to everyone: Take a Test. It asks you to categorize faces as good or bad and records your tiny reaction times. Based on these and other questions, it provides feedback on your personal biases.

I was surprised that I have an implicit preference for white people over black people. That’s the point. Most of us are unaware of our biases and falsely believe we are free of them. I encourage you to take the test and learn about yourself. If the result makes you uncomfortable, then sit with it. Try not to be defensive, as I was, and accept that, even if you are a good person, you can become a better one.

Based on what I’ve learned and heard in the last few weeks, I’ve committed to a few things: To acknowledge the harm done to my black and brown colleagues and my complicity even by acts of omission. To not avoid uncomfortable feelings or uncomfortable conversations. As a leader, to use my organizational status to advocate. To stand by my partners of color not only in dramatic one-time marches but also against the everyday perpetrators of microaggressions. To create a safe space and invite my colleagues, staff, friends, and patients to share.

Standing up against racism is all our responsibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
 

Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. He has no disclosures related to this column. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].

I have an automatic preference for white people over black people. This isn’t my opinion; rather, it is my implicit bias test result. I didn’t believe it at first. Trying hard to not be biased, I took the test again and received the same outcome. My reaction – disbelief – is typical for those like me: White people who believe they are good human beings. I might be good, but that doesn’t mean I’m free of bias or exonerated from the harm being inflicted on people of color.

We’ve all watched in horror the acts of violence against blacks in the news. I was shocked and disgusted. It was easy to believe, however, that I am in no way complicit in the injustice and racism I was watching. I think I’m fair and without prejudice. I have never intentionally discriminated against someone. Wanting to help, I listened to my black colleagues, staff, and patients. What I learned made me uncomfortable.

Through all this news, I’d said little to my colleagues and friends. I cannot identify with how a black person has felt recently. What if I said the wrong thing or caused offense? The safe option is to say nothing. I learned that this is a common reaction and the least helpful. The advice from one black colleague was simple: “Just ask us.” Instead of ignoring the issue, she advised me to say: “I wonder what this experience has been like for you. Would you like to share?” And, if you mean it, to add, “I stand with you.” The latter should be followed by “What can I do to help?” Or, more powerfully, “What have I done that makes me complicit?”

Some of these conversations will be uncomfortable. If you want to help, then sit with that. Feeling uncomfortable might mean you are beginning to understand.

I also heard about the excellent book “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo, PhD. In it, she argues that it is difficult for white people to talk about racism because of a tendency to react with defensiveness, guilt, and sometimes anger.

Many of the chapters in the book were easy to read because they didn’t apply to me: I don’t get angry in equity, inclusion, and diversity meetings. I don’t resent affirmative action programs. But then Dr. DiAngelo got me: I believed because I’m a good person and I have no intention of being racist, I’m absolved. Her argument was enlightening. Like all white people in the United States, I have benefited from white privilege. Yes, I’ve worked hard, but I also grew up in a white family with a college-educated father. That alone afforded me academic and financial advantages, which pushed me ahead. I’ve benefited from the status quo.

I have also failed to speak up when white friends carried on about how unnecessary affirmative action programs have become. I’ve sat with sealed lips when I’ve heard comments like “As a white male, it’s a lot harder to get into prestigious schools now.” Having no intention to harm doesn’t matter; plenty of harm is done unintentionally.

I also believed that because I have good intentions, I have no racial bias. I was wrong. The test I took online is an excellent tool to combat this blind spot. It was created by Harvard researchers and is available to everyone: Take a Test. It asks you to categorize faces as good or bad and records your tiny reaction times. Based on these and other questions, it provides feedback on your personal biases.

I was surprised that I have an implicit preference for white people over black people. That’s the point. Most of us are unaware of our biases and falsely believe we are free of them. I encourage you to take the test and learn about yourself. If the result makes you uncomfortable, then sit with it. Try not to be defensive, as I was, and accept that, even if you are a good person, you can become a better one.

Based on what I’ve learned and heard in the last few weeks, I’ve committed to a few things: To acknowledge the harm done to my black and brown colleagues and my complicity even by acts of omission. To not avoid uncomfortable feelings or uncomfortable conversations. As a leader, to use my organizational status to advocate. To stand by my partners of color not only in dramatic one-time marches but also against the everyday perpetrators of microaggressions. To create a safe space and invite my colleagues, staff, friends, and patients to share.

Standing up against racism is all our responsibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
 

Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. He has no disclosures related to this column. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].

I have an automatic preference for white people over black people. This isn’t my opinion; rather, it is my implicit bias test result. I didn’t believe it at first. Trying hard to not be biased, I took the test again and received the same outcome. My reaction – disbelief – is typical for those like me: White people who believe they are good human beings. I might be good, but that doesn’t mean I’m free of bias or exonerated from the harm being inflicted on people of color.

We’ve all watched in horror the acts of violence against blacks in the news. I was shocked and disgusted. It was easy to believe, however, that I am in no way complicit in the injustice and racism I was watching. I think I’m fair and without prejudice. I have never intentionally discriminated against someone. Wanting to help, I listened to my black colleagues, staff, and patients. What I learned made me uncomfortable.

Through all this news, I’d said little to my colleagues and friends. I cannot identify with how a black person has felt recently. What if I said the wrong thing or caused offense? The safe option is to say nothing. I learned that this is a common reaction and the least helpful. The advice from one black colleague was simple: “Just ask us.” Instead of ignoring the issue, she advised me to say: “I wonder what this experience has been like for you. Would you like to share?” And, if you mean it, to add, “I stand with you.” The latter should be followed by “What can I do to help?” Or, more powerfully, “What have I done that makes me complicit?”

Some of these conversations will be uncomfortable. If you want to help, then sit with that. Feeling uncomfortable might mean you are beginning to understand.

I also heard about the excellent book “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo, PhD. In it, she argues that it is difficult for white people to talk about racism because of a tendency to react with defensiveness, guilt, and sometimes anger.

Many of the chapters in the book were easy to read because they didn’t apply to me: I don’t get angry in equity, inclusion, and diversity meetings. I don’t resent affirmative action programs. But then Dr. DiAngelo got me: I believed because I’m a good person and I have no intention of being racist, I’m absolved. Her argument was enlightening. Like all white people in the United States, I have benefited from white privilege. Yes, I’ve worked hard, but I also grew up in a white family with a college-educated father. That alone afforded me academic and financial advantages, which pushed me ahead. I’ve benefited from the status quo.

I have also failed to speak up when white friends carried on about how unnecessary affirmative action programs have become. I’ve sat with sealed lips when I’ve heard comments like “As a white male, it’s a lot harder to get into prestigious schools now.” Having no intention to harm doesn’t matter; plenty of harm is done unintentionally.

I also believed that because I have good intentions, I have no racial bias. I was wrong. The test I took online is an excellent tool to combat this blind spot. It was created by Harvard researchers and is available to everyone: Take a Test. It asks you to categorize faces as good or bad and records your tiny reaction times. Based on these and other questions, it provides feedback on your personal biases.

I was surprised that I have an implicit preference for white people over black people. That’s the point. Most of us are unaware of our biases and falsely believe we are free of them. I encourage you to take the test and learn about yourself. If the result makes you uncomfortable, then sit with it. Try not to be defensive, as I was, and accept that, even if you are a good person, you can become a better one.

Based on what I’ve learned and heard in the last few weeks, I’ve committed to a few things: To acknowledge the harm done to my black and brown colleagues and my complicity even by acts of omission. To not avoid uncomfortable feelings or uncomfortable conversations. As a leader, to use my organizational status to advocate. To stand by my partners of color not only in dramatic one-time marches but also against the everyday perpetrators of microaggressions. To create a safe space and invite my colleagues, staff, friends, and patients to share.

Standing up against racism is all our responsibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
 

Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. He has no disclosures related to this column. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].

In response to COVID-19, we have seen a rapid transformation to virtually delivered mental health care, essential for the prevention and treatment of various mental health conditions during an isolating and stress-inducing pandemic. Yet teletherapy and virtual medication management alone may not adequately address the needs of some of the populations we serve.

Take Jackson, whose name and details have been changed for privacy. A year ago, Jackson, in his last year of high school, began hearing voices that others could not hear. After becoming increasingly withdrawn, his father sought out treatment for him and learned that Jackson was experiencing his first episode of psychosis.

Psychosis involves disruptions in the way one processes thoughts and feelings or behaves, and includes delusions – or unusual beliefs – and hallucinations, meaning seeing and hearing things that others cannot. “First-episode psychosis” (FEP) simply refers to the first time an individual experiences this. It typically occurs between one’s teenage years and their 20s. Whereas some individuals recover from their first episode and may not experience another, others go on to experience recurrence, and sometimes a waxing and waning illness course.

Jackson enrolled in a comprehensive mental health program that not only includes a psychiatrist, but also therapists who provide case management services, as well as a peer specialist; this is someone with lived experience navigating mental illness. The program also includes an employment and education specialist and family and group therapy sessions. His team helped him identify and work toward his personal recovery goals: graduating from high school, obtaining a job, and maintaining a strong relationship with his father.

One hundred thousand adolescents and young adults like Jackson experience FEP each year, and now, in the wake of COVID-19, they probably have more limited access to the kind of support that can be vital to recovery.

Studies have shown that untreated psychosis can detrimentally affect quality of life in several ways, including by negatively affecting interpersonal relationships, interfering with obtaining or maintaining employment, and increasing the risk for problematic substance use. The psychosocial effects of COVID-19 could compound problems that individuals navigating psychosis already face, such as stigmatization, social isolation, and unemployment. On top of this, individuals who experience additional marginalization and downstream effects of systematic discriminatory practices by virtue of their race or ethnicity, immigration status, or language bear the brunt of some of this pandemic’s worst health inequities.

Early and efficacious treatment is critically important for individuals experiencing psychosis. Evidence shows that engagement in coordinated specialty care (CSC) specifically can improve outcomes, including the likelihood of being engaged in school or work and lower rates of hospitalization. CSC is a team-based approach that utilizes the unique skills of every team member to support an individual in reaching their recovery goals, whether it’s starting or finishing college or building a new relationship.

Unlike traditional treatment goals, which often focus on “symptom reduction,” recovery-oriented care is about supporting an individual in obtaining a sense of satisfaction, meaning, and purpose in life. CSC involves not only individual sessions with one’s psychiatrist or therapist, but collaboration with a patient’s peers, groups, family, and work. It also supports navigating such experiences as a job interview or a date. These key, multifaceted components must be made accessible and adapted during these times.

For individuals like Jackson, it is crucial to be able to continue accessing quality CSC, even during our current pandemic. Lisa Dixon, MD, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, leads ONTrackNY, a statewide FEP program. She states that “effective, recovery-oriented treatment can make such a huge difference in the lives of these young people who are at a potential inflection point in their lives. Creative, collaborative clinicians can maintain connection and support.”

So how can we adapt CSC during this time? In addition to virtualized medication management and individual therapy, other components of CSC can be creatively adapted for online platforms. Group sessions can be completed virtually, from family to peer-led. Though the unemployment rate continues to rise, we can still help participants with a desire to work find employers that are offering remote work or navigate the risks of potential COVID-19 work exposures if remote options aren’t available. We can also support their developing skills to be used once other employers that pose less risk reopen.

For those in school, virtual education support can provide study skills, ways to cope with transition to an online classroom, or help with obtaining tutoring. Nutritionists can work remotely to provide support and creatively use online platforms for real-time feedback in a participant’s kitchen. Virtual case management is even more essential in the wake of COVID-19, from assistance with applying for unemployment insurance and financial aid to obtaining health insurance or determining eligibility.

For those without access to virtual platforms, individual and group telephone sessions and text check-ins can provide meaningful opportunities for continued engagement. For those who are unstably housed or have limited privacy in housing, teams must generate ideas of where to have remote sessions, such as a nearby park.

In a world now dominated by virtual care, it is critically important that individuals needing to see a clinician in person still be able to do so. Whether it is due to an acute crisis or to administer a long-acting injection medication, it is our responsibility to thoughtfully and judiciously remain available to patients, using appropriate personal protective equipment and precautions.

Jackson is one of many young people in recovery from psychosis. He is not defined by or limited by his experiences, but rather is navigating the possibilities that lie ahead of him, defining for himself who he wants to be in this world as it evolves. In the midst of COVID-19, as we seek to innovate – from how we exercise to how we throw birthday parties – let’s also be innovative in how we provide care and support for individuals experiencing psychosis.

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In response to COVID-19, we have seen a rapid transformation to virtually delivered mental health care, essential for the prevention and treatment of various mental health conditions during an isolating and stress-inducing pandemic. Yet teletherapy and virtual medication management alone may not adequately address the needs of some of the populations we serve.

Take Jackson, whose name and details have been changed for privacy. A year ago, Jackson, in his last year of high school, began hearing voices that others could not hear. After becoming increasingly withdrawn, his father sought out treatment for him and learned that Jackson was experiencing his first episode of psychosis.

Psychosis involves disruptions in the way one processes thoughts and feelings or behaves, and includes delusions – or unusual beliefs – and hallucinations, meaning seeing and hearing things that others cannot. “First-episode psychosis” (FEP) simply refers to the first time an individual experiences this. It typically occurs between one’s teenage years and their 20s. Whereas some individuals recover from their first episode and may not experience another, others go on to experience recurrence, and sometimes a waxing and waning illness course.

Jackson enrolled in a comprehensive mental health program that not only includes a psychiatrist, but also therapists who provide case management services, as well as a peer specialist; this is someone with lived experience navigating mental illness. The program also includes an employment and education specialist and family and group therapy sessions. His team helped him identify and work toward his personal recovery goals: graduating from high school, obtaining a job, and maintaining a strong relationship with his father.

One hundred thousand adolescents and young adults like Jackson experience FEP each year, and now, in the wake of COVID-19, they probably have more limited access to the kind of support that can be vital to recovery.

Studies have shown that untreated psychosis can detrimentally affect quality of life in several ways, including by negatively affecting interpersonal relationships, interfering with obtaining or maintaining employment, and increasing the risk for problematic substance use. The psychosocial effects of COVID-19 could compound problems that individuals navigating psychosis already face, such as stigmatization, social isolation, and unemployment. On top of this, individuals who experience additional marginalization and downstream effects of systematic discriminatory practices by virtue of their race or ethnicity, immigration status, or language bear the brunt of some of this pandemic’s worst health inequities.

Early and efficacious treatment is critically important for individuals experiencing psychosis. Evidence shows that engagement in coordinated specialty care (CSC) specifically can improve outcomes, including the likelihood of being engaged in school or work and lower rates of hospitalization. CSC is a team-based approach that utilizes the unique skills of every team member to support an individual in reaching their recovery goals, whether it’s starting or finishing college or building a new relationship.

Unlike traditional treatment goals, which often focus on “symptom reduction,” recovery-oriented care is about supporting an individual in obtaining a sense of satisfaction, meaning, and purpose in life. CSC involves not only individual sessions with one’s psychiatrist or therapist, but collaboration with a patient’s peers, groups, family, and work. It also supports navigating such experiences as a job interview or a date. These key, multifaceted components must be made accessible and adapted during these times.

For individuals like Jackson, it is crucial to be able to continue accessing quality CSC, even during our current pandemic. Lisa Dixon, MD, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, leads ONTrackNY, a statewide FEP program. She states that “effective, recovery-oriented treatment can make such a huge difference in the lives of these young people who are at a potential inflection point in their lives. Creative, collaborative clinicians can maintain connection and support.”

So how can we adapt CSC during this time? In addition to virtualized medication management and individual therapy, other components of CSC can be creatively adapted for online platforms. Group sessions can be completed virtually, from family to peer-led. Though the unemployment rate continues to rise, we can still help participants with a desire to work find employers that are offering remote work or navigate the risks of potential COVID-19 work exposures if remote options aren’t available. We can also support their developing skills to be used once other employers that pose less risk reopen.

For those in school, virtual education support can provide study skills, ways to cope with transition to an online classroom, or help with obtaining tutoring. Nutritionists can work remotely to provide support and creatively use online platforms for real-time feedback in a participant’s kitchen. Virtual case management is even more essential in the wake of COVID-19, from assistance with applying for unemployment insurance and financial aid to obtaining health insurance or determining eligibility.

For those without access to virtual platforms, individual and group telephone sessions and text check-ins can provide meaningful opportunities for continued engagement. For those who are unstably housed or have limited privacy in housing, teams must generate ideas of where to have remote sessions, such as a nearby park.

In a world now dominated by virtual care, it is critically important that individuals needing to see a clinician in person still be able to do so. Whether it is due to an acute crisis or to administer a long-acting injection medication, it is our responsibility to thoughtfully and judiciously remain available to patients, using appropriate personal protective equipment and precautions.

Jackson is one of many young people in recovery from psychosis. He is not defined by or limited by his experiences, but rather is navigating the possibilities that lie ahead of him, defining for himself who he wants to be in this world as it evolves. In the midst of COVID-19, as we seek to innovate – from how we exercise to how we throw birthday parties – let’s also be innovative in how we provide care and support for individuals experiencing psychosis.

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In response to COVID-19, we have seen a rapid transformation to virtually delivered mental health care, essential for the prevention and treatment of various mental health conditions during an isolating and stress-inducing pandemic. Yet teletherapy and virtual medication management alone may not adequately address the needs of some of the populations we serve.

Take Jackson, whose name and details have been changed for privacy. A year ago, Jackson, in his last year of high school, began hearing voices that others could not hear. After becoming increasingly withdrawn, his father sought out treatment for him and learned that Jackson was experiencing his first episode of psychosis.

Psychosis involves disruptions in the way one processes thoughts and feelings or behaves, and includes delusions – or unusual beliefs – and hallucinations, meaning seeing and hearing things that others cannot. “First-episode psychosis” (FEP) simply refers to the first time an individual experiences this. It typically occurs between one’s teenage years and their 20s. Whereas some individuals recover from their first episode and may not experience another, others go on to experience recurrence, and sometimes a waxing and waning illness course.

Jackson enrolled in a comprehensive mental health program that not only includes a psychiatrist, but also therapists who provide case management services, as well as a peer specialist; this is someone with lived experience navigating mental illness. The program also includes an employment and education specialist and family and group therapy sessions. His team helped him identify and work toward his personal recovery goals: graduating from high school, obtaining a job, and maintaining a strong relationship with his father.

One hundred thousand adolescents and young adults like Jackson experience FEP each year, and now, in the wake of COVID-19, they probably have more limited access to the kind of support that can be vital to recovery.

Studies have shown that untreated psychosis can detrimentally affect quality of life in several ways, including by negatively affecting interpersonal relationships, interfering with obtaining or maintaining employment, and increasing the risk for problematic substance use. The psychosocial effects of COVID-19 could compound problems that individuals navigating psychosis already face, such as stigmatization, social isolation, and unemployment. On top of this, individuals who experience additional marginalization and downstream effects of systematic discriminatory practices by virtue of their race or ethnicity, immigration status, or language bear the brunt of some of this pandemic’s worst health inequities.

Early and efficacious treatment is critically important for individuals experiencing psychosis. Evidence shows that engagement in coordinated specialty care (CSC) specifically can improve outcomes, including the likelihood of being engaged in school or work and lower rates of hospitalization. CSC is a team-based approach that utilizes the unique skills of every team member to support an individual in reaching their recovery goals, whether it’s starting or finishing college or building a new relationship.

Unlike traditional treatment goals, which often focus on “symptom reduction,” recovery-oriented care is about supporting an individual in obtaining a sense of satisfaction, meaning, and purpose in life. CSC involves not only individual sessions with one’s psychiatrist or therapist, but collaboration with a patient’s peers, groups, family, and work. It also supports navigating such experiences as a job interview or a date. These key, multifaceted components must be made accessible and adapted during these times.

For individuals like Jackson, it is crucial to be able to continue accessing quality CSC, even during our current pandemic. Lisa Dixon, MD, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, leads ONTrackNY, a statewide FEP program. She states that “effective, recovery-oriented treatment can make such a huge difference in the lives of these young people who are at a potential inflection point in their lives. Creative, collaborative clinicians can maintain connection and support.”

So how can we adapt CSC during this time? In addition to virtualized medication management and individual therapy, other components of CSC can be creatively adapted for online platforms. Group sessions can be completed virtually, from family to peer-led. Though the unemployment rate continues to rise, we can still help participants with a desire to work find employers that are offering remote work or navigate the risks of potential COVID-19 work exposures if remote options aren’t available. We can also support their developing skills to be used once other employers that pose less risk reopen.

For those in school, virtual education support can provide study skills, ways to cope with transition to an online classroom, or help with obtaining tutoring. Nutritionists can work remotely to provide support and creatively use online platforms for real-time feedback in a participant’s kitchen. Virtual case management is even more essential in the wake of COVID-19, from assistance with applying for unemployment insurance and financial aid to obtaining health insurance or determining eligibility.

For those without access to virtual platforms, individual and group telephone sessions and text check-ins can provide meaningful opportunities for continued engagement. For those who are unstably housed or have limited privacy in housing, teams must generate ideas of where to have remote sessions, such as a nearby park.

In a world now dominated by virtual care, it is critically important that individuals needing to see a clinician in person still be able to do so. Whether it is due to an acute crisis or to administer a long-acting injection medication, it is our responsibility to thoughtfully and judiciously remain available to patients, using appropriate personal protective equipment and precautions.

Jackson is one of many young people in recovery from psychosis. He is not defined by or limited by his experiences, but rather is navigating the possibilities that lie ahead of him, defining for himself who he wants to be in this world as it evolves. In the midst of COVID-19, as we seek to innovate – from how we exercise to how we throw birthday parties – let’s also be innovative in how we provide care and support for individuals experiencing psychosis.

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Lung ultrasound has “high concordance” with radiologic findings in children with COVID-19, researchers wrote in Pediatrics.

They also noted the benefits that modality provides over other imaging techniques.

Marco Denina, MD, and colleagues from the pediatric infectious diseases unit at Regina Margherita Children’s Hospital in Turin, Italy, performed an observational study of eight children aged 0-17 years who were admitted to the hospital for COVID-19 between March 8 and 26, 2020. In seven of eight patients, the findings were concordant between imaging modalities; in the remaining patient, lung ultrasound (LUS) found an interstitial B-lines pattern that was not seen on radiography. In seven patients with pathologic ultrasound findings at baseline, the improvement or resolution of the subpleural consolidations or interstitial patterns was consistent with concomitant radiologic findings.

The authors cited the benefits of using point-of-care ultrasound instead of other modalities, such as CT. “First, it may reduce the number of radiologic examinations, lowering the radiation exposure of the patients,” they wrote. “Secondly, when performed at the bedside, LUS allows for the reduction of the patient’s movement within the hospital; thus, it lowers the number of health care workers and medical devices exposed to [SARS-CoV-2].”

One limitation of the study is the small sample size; however, the researchers felt the high concordance still suggests LUS is a reasonable method for COVID-19 patients.

There was no external funding for this study and the investigators had no relevant financial disclosures.

[email protected]

SOURCE: Denina M et al. Pediatrics. 2020 Jun. doi: 10.1542/peds.2020-1157.

Lung ultrasound has “high concordance” with radiologic findings in children with COVID-19, researchers wrote in Pediatrics.

They also noted the benefits that modality provides over other imaging techniques.

Marco Denina, MD, and colleagues from the pediatric infectious diseases unit at Regina Margherita Children’s Hospital in Turin, Italy, performed an observational study of eight children aged 0-17 years who were admitted to the hospital for COVID-19 between March 8 and 26, 2020. In seven of eight patients, the findings were concordant between imaging modalities; in the remaining patient, lung ultrasound (LUS) found an interstitial B-lines pattern that was not seen on radiography. In seven patients with pathologic ultrasound findings at baseline, the improvement or resolution of the subpleural consolidations or interstitial patterns was consistent with concomitant radiologic findings.

The authors cited the benefits of using point-of-care ultrasound instead of other modalities, such as CT. “First, it may reduce the number of radiologic examinations, lowering the radiation exposure of the patients,” they wrote. “Secondly, when performed at the bedside, LUS allows for the reduction of the patient’s movement within the hospital; thus, it lowers the number of health care workers and medical devices exposed to [SARS-CoV-2].”

One limitation of the study is the small sample size; however, the researchers felt the high concordance still suggests LUS is a reasonable method for COVID-19 patients.

There was no external funding for this study and the investigators had no relevant financial disclosures.

[email protected]

SOURCE: Denina M et al. Pediatrics. 2020 Jun. doi: 10.1542/peds.2020-1157.

Lung ultrasound has “high concordance” with radiologic findings in children with COVID-19, researchers wrote in Pediatrics.

They also noted the benefits that modality provides over other imaging techniques.

Marco Denina, MD, and colleagues from the pediatric infectious diseases unit at Regina Margherita Children’s Hospital in Turin, Italy, performed an observational study of eight children aged 0-17 years who were admitted to the hospital for COVID-19 between March 8 and 26, 2020. In seven of eight patients, the findings were concordant between imaging modalities; in the remaining patient, lung ultrasound (LUS) found an interstitial B-lines pattern that was not seen on radiography. In seven patients with pathologic ultrasound findings at baseline, the improvement or resolution of the subpleural consolidations or interstitial patterns was consistent with concomitant radiologic findings.

The authors cited the benefits of using point-of-care ultrasound instead of other modalities, such as CT. “First, it may reduce the number of radiologic examinations, lowering the radiation exposure of the patients,” they wrote. “Secondly, when performed at the bedside, LUS allows for the reduction of the patient’s movement within the hospital; thus, it lowers the number of health care workers and medical devices exposed to [SARS-CoV-2].”

One limitation of the study is the small sample size; however, the researchers felt the high concordance still suggests LUS is a reasonable method for COVID-19 patients.

There was no external funding for this study and the investigators had no relevant financial disclosures.

[email protected]

SOURCE: Denina M et al. Pediatrics. 2020 Jun. doi: 10.1542/peds.2020-1157.

One might immediately think of the deaths of Eric Garner, George Floyd, or even the fictional character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s critically acclaimed film, “Do the Right Thing,” when they hear the words “I can’t breathe.” These words are a cry for help. The deaths of these unarmed black men is devastating and has led to a state of rage, palpable pain, and protest across the world.

However, in this moment, I am talking about the health inequity exposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it be acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) secondary to severe COVID-19, or the subsequent hypercoagulable state of COVID-19 that leads to venous thromboembolism, many black people in this country are left breathless. Many black patients who had no employee-based health insurance also had no primary care physician to order a SARS-CoV2 PCR lab test for them. Many of these patients have preexisting conditions, such as asthma from living in redlined communities affected by environmental racism. Many grew up in food deserts, where no fresh-produce store was interested enough to set up shop in their neighborhoods. They have been eating fast food since early childhood, as a fast-food burger is still cheaper than a salad. The result is obesity, an epidemic that can lead to diabetes mellitus, hypertension that can lead to coronary artery disease, stroke, and end-stage renal disease. 

Earlier in my career, I once had a colleague gleefully tell me that all black people drank Kool-Aid while in discussion of the effects of high-sugar diets in our patients; this colleague was sure I would agree. Not all black people drink Kool-Aid. Secondary to my fear of the backlash that can come from the discomfort of “white fragility” that Robin DiAngelo describes in her New York Times bestseller by the same name, ”White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” I refrained from expressing my own hurt, and I did not offer explicit correction. I, instead, took a serious pause. That pause, which lasted only minutes, seemed to last 400 years. It was a brief reflection of the 400 years of systemic racism seeping into everyday life. This included the circumstances that would lead to the health inequities that result in the health disparities from which many black patients suffer. It is that same systemic racism that could create two America’s in which my colleague might not have to know the historic context in which that question could be hurtful. I retorted with modified shock and a chuckle so that I could muster up enough strength to repeat what was said and leave it open for reflection. The goal was for my colleague to realize the obvious implicit bias that lingered, despite intention. The chuckle was also to cover my pain.

Whether we know it or not, we all carry some form of implicit bias, regardless of race, class, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or socioeconomic status. In this case, it is the same implicit bias that causes physicians to ignore some black patients when they have said that they are in pain. A groundbreaking April 2016 article in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “Racial Bias in Pain Assessment and Treatment Recommendations, and False Beliefs about Biological Differences Between Blacks and Whites” (doi: 10.1073/pnas.1516047113), revealed that racial disparities in pain assessment and treatment recommendations can be directly connected to the racial bias of the provider. It could be possible that this phenomenon has affected black patients who have walked into clinics and emergency departments and said, “I’m short of breath. I think that I might have coronavirus and need to be tested.” It may be that same implicit bias that has cut the air supply to a patient encounter. Instead of inquiring further, the patient might be met with minimum questions while their provider obtains their history and physical. Assumptions and blame on behavior and lack of personal responsibility secretly replace questions that could have been asked. Differentials between exacerbations and other etiologies are not explored. Could that patient have been sent home without a SARS-CoV2 polymerase chain reaction test? Well, what if the tests were in short supply? Sometimes they may have been sent home without a chest x-ray. In most cases, there are no funds to send them home with a pulse oximeter.

The act of assuming a person’s story that we consider to be one dimensional is always dangerous – and even more so during this pandemic. That person we can relate to – secondary to a cool pop culture moment, a TikTok song, or a negative stereotype – is not one dimensional. That assumption and that stereotype can make room for implicit bias. That same implicit bias is the knee on a neck of any marginalized patient. Implicit bias is the choke hold that slowly removes the light and life from a person who has a story, who has a family, and who has been an essential worker who can’t work from home. That person is telling us that they can’t breathe, but sometimes the only things seen are comorbidities through a misinformed or biased lens that suggest an assumed lack of personal responsibility. In a May 2020 New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Racial health disparities and Covid-19” (doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2012910), Merlin Chowkwanyun, PhD, MPH, and Adolph L. Reed Jr., PhD, caution us against creating race-based explanations for presumed behavioral patterns.

Systemic racism has created the myth that the playing field has been leveled since the end of enslavement. It hasn’t. That black man, woman, or nonbinary person is telling you “I can’t breathe. I’m tired. I’m short of breath ... I have a cough ... I’m feeling weak these days, Doc.” However, implicit bias is still that knee that won’t let up. It has not let up. Communities with lower-income black and Hispanic patients have already seen local hospitals and frontline workers fight to save their lives while losing their own to COVID-19. We all witnessed the battle for scarce resources and PPE [personal protective equipment]. In contrast, some wealthy neighborhoods have occupants who most likely have access to a primary care physician and more testing centers.

As we reexamine ourselves and look at these cases of police brutality against unarmed black men, women, and children with the appropriate shame and outrage, let us reflect upon the privileges that we enjoy. Let us find our voice as we speak up for black lives. Let us look deeply into the history of medicine as it relates to black patients by reading “Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present” by Harriet A. Washington. Let us examine that painful legacy, which, while having moments of good intention, still carries the stain of indifference, racism, neglect, and even experimentation without informed consent.

Why should we do these things? Because some of our black patients have also yelled or whispered, “I can’t breathe,” and we were not always listening either.
 

Dr. Ajala is a hospitalist and associate site director for education at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. She is a member of the executive council for SHM’s Care for Vulnerable Populations special interest group.

One might immediately think of the deaths of Eric Garner, George Floyd, or even the fictional character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s critically acclaimed film, “Do the Right Thing,” when they hear the words “I can’t breathe.” These words are a cry for help. The deaths of these unarmed black men is devastating and has led to a state of rage, palpable pain, and protest across the world.

However, in this moment, I am talking about the health inequity exposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it be acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) secondary to severe COVID-19, or the subsequent hypercoagulable state of COVID-19 that leads to venous thromboembolism, many black people in this country are left breathless. Many black patients who had no employee-based health insurance also had no primary care physician to order a SARS-CoV2 PCR lab test for them. Many of these patients have preexisting conditions, such as asthma from living in redlined communities affected by environmental racism. Many grew up in food deserts, where no fresh-produce store was interested enough to set up shop in their neighborhoods. They have been eating fast food since early childhood, as a fast-food burger is still cheaper than a salad. The result is obesity, an epidemic that can lead to diabetes mellitus, hypertension that can lead to coronary artery disease, stroke, and end-stage renal disease. 

Earlier in my career, I once had a colleague gleefully tell me that all black people drank Kool-Aid while in discussion of the effects of high-sugar diets in our patients; this colleague was sure I would agree. Not all black people drink Kool-Aid. Secondary to my fear of the backlash that can come from the discomfort of “white fragility” that Robin DiAngelo describes in her New York Times bestseller by the same name, ”White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” I refrained from expressing my own hurt, and I did not offer explicit correction. I, instead, took a serious pause. That pause, which lasted only minutes, seemed to last 400 years. It was a brief reflection of the 400 years of systemic racism seeping into everyday life. This included the circumstances that would lead to the health inequities that result in the health disparities from which many black patients suffer. It is that same systemic racism that could create two America’s in which my colleague might not have to know the historic context in which that question could be hurtful. I retorted with modified shock and a chuckle so that I could muster up enough strength to repeat what was said and leave it open for reflection. The goal was for my colleague to realize the obvious implicit bias that lingered, despite intention. The chuckle was also to cover my pain.

Whether we know it or not, we all carry some form of implicit bias, regardless of race, class, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or socioeconomic status. In this case, it is the same implicit bias that causes physicians to ignore some black patients when they have said that they are in pain. A groundbreaking April 2016 article in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “Racial Bias in Pain Assessment and Treatment Recommendations, and False Beliefs about Biological Differences Between Blacks and Whites” (doi: 10.1073/pnas.1516047113), revealed that racial disparities in pain assessment and treatment recommendations can be directly connected to the racial bias of the provider. It could be possible that this phenomenon has affected black patients who have walked into clinics and emergency departments and said, “I’m short of breath. I think that I might have coronavirus and need to be tested.” It may be that same implicit bias that has cut the air supply to a patient encounter. Instead of inquiring further, the patient might be met with minimum questions while their provider obtains their history and physical. Assumptions and blame on behavior and lack of personal responsibility secretly replace questions that could have been asked. Differentials between exacerbations and other etiologies are not explored. Could that patient have been sent home without a SARS-CoV2 polymerase chain reaction test? Well, what if the tests were in short supply? Sometimes they may have been sent home without a chest x-ray. In most cases, there are no funds to send them home with a pulse oximeter.

The act of assuming a person’s story that we consider to be one dimensional is always dangerous – and even more so during this pandemic. That person we can relate to – secondary to a cool pop culture moment, a TikTok song, or a negative stereotype – is not one dimensional. That assumption and that stereotype can make room for implicit bias. That same implicit bias is the knee on a neck of any marginalized patient. Implicit bias is the choke hold that slowly removes the light and life from a person who has a story, who has a family, and who has been an essential worker who can’t work from home. That person is telling us that they can’t breathe, but sometimes the only things seen are comorbidities through a misinformed or biased lens that suggest an assumed lack of personal responsibility. In a May 2020 New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Racial health disparities and Covid-19” (doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2012910), Merlin Chowkwanyun, PhD, MPH, and Adolph L. Reed Jr., PhD, caution us against creating race-based explanations for presumed behavioral patterns.

Systemic racism has created the myth that the playing field has been leveled since the end of enslavement. It hasn’t. That black man, woman, or nonbinary person is telling you “I can’t breathe. I’m tired. I’m short of breath ... I have a cough ... I’m feeling weak these days, Doc.” However, implicit bias is still that knee that won’t let up. It has not let up. Communities with lower-income black and Hispanic patients have already seen local hospitals and frontline workers fight to save their lives while losing their own to COVID-19. We all witnessed the battle for scarce resources and PPE [personal protective equipment]. In contrast, some wealthy neighborhoods have occupants who most likely have access to a primary care physician and more testing centers.

As we reexamine ourselves and look at these cases of police brutality against unarmed black men, women, and children with the appropriate shame and outrage, let us reflect upon the privileges that we enjoy. Let us find our voice as we speak up for black lives. Let us look deeply into the history of medicine as it relates to black patients by reading “Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present” by Harriet A. Washington. Let us examine that painful legacy, which, while having moments of good intention, still carries the stain of indifference, racism, neglect, and even experimentation without informed consent.

Why should we do these things? Because some of our black patients have also yelled or whispered, “I can’t breathe,” and we were not always listening either.
 

Dr. Ajala is a hospitalist and associate site director for education at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. She is a member of the executive council for SHM’s Care for Vulnerable Populations special interest group.

One might immediately think of the deaths of Eric Garner, George Floyd, or even the fictional character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s critically acclaimed film, “Do the Right Thing,” when they hear the words “I can’t breathe.” These words are a cry for help. The deaths of these unarmed black men is devastating and has led to a state of rage, palpable pain, and protest across the world.

However, in this moment, I am talking about the health inequity exposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it be acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) secondary to severe COVID-19, or the subsequent hypercoagulable state of COVID-19 that leads to venous thromboembolism, many black people in this country are left breathless. Many black patients who had no employee-based health insurance also had no primary care physician to order a SARS-CoV2 PCR lab test for them. Many of these patients have preexisting conditions, such as asthma from living in redlined communities affected by environmental racism. Many grew up in food deserts, where no fresh-produce store was interested enough to set up shop in their neighborhoods. They have been eating fast food since early childhood, as a fast-food burger is still cheaper than a salad. The result is obesity, an epidemic that can lead to diabetes mellitus, hypertension that can lead to coronary artery disease, stroke, and end-stage renal disease. 

Earlier in my career, I once had a colleague gleefully tell me that all black people drank Kool-Aid while in discussion of the effects of high-sugar diets in our patients; this colleague was sure I would agree. Not all black people drink Kool-Aid. Secondary to my fear of the backlash that can come from the discomfort of “white fragility” that Robin DiAngelo describes in her New York Times bestseller by the same name, ”White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” I refrained from expressing my own hurt, and I did not offer explicit correction. I, instead, took a serious pause. That pause, which lasted only minutes, seemed to last 400 years. It was a brief reflection of the 400 years of systemic racism seeping into everyday life. This included the circumstances that would lead to the health inequities that result in the health disparities from which many black patients suffer. It is that same systemic racism that could create two America’s in which my colleague might not have to know the historic context in which that question could be hurtful. I retorted with modified shock and a chuckle so that I could muster up enough strength to repeat what was said and leave it open for reflection. The goal was for my colleague to realize the obvious implicit bias that lingered, despite intention. The chuckle was also to cover my pain.

Whether we know it or not, we all carry some form of implicit bias, regardless of race, class, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or socioeconomic status. In this case, it is the same implicit bias that causes physicians to ignore some black patients when they have said that they are in pain. A groundbreaking April 2016 article in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “Racial Bias in Pain Assessment and Treatment Recommendations, and False Beliefs about Biological Differences Between Blacks and Whites” (doi: 10.1073/pnas.1516047113), revealed that racial disparities in pain assessment and treatment recommendations can be directly connected to the racial bias of the provider. It could be possible that this phenomenon has affected black patients who have walked into clinics and emergency departments and said, “I’m short of breath. I think that I might have coronavirus and need to be tested.” It may be that same implicit bias that has cut the air supply to a patient encounter. Instead of inquiring further, the patient might be met with minimum questions while their provider obtains their history and physical. Assumptions and blame on behavior and lack of personal responsibility secretly replace questions that could have been asked. Differentials between exacerbations and other etiologies are not explored. Could that patient have been sent home without a SARS-CoV2 polymerase chain reaction test? Well, what if the tests were in short supply? Sometimes they may have been sent home without a chest x-ray. In most cases, there are no funds to send them home with a pulse oximeter.

The act of assuming a person’s story that we consider to be one dimensional is always dangerous – and even more so during this pandemic. That person we can relate to – secondary to a cool pop culture moment, a TikTok song, or a negative stereotype – is not one dimensional. That assumption and that stereotype can make room for implicit bias. That same implicit bias is the knee on a neck of any marginalized patient. Implicit bias is the choke hold that slowly removes the light and life from a person who has a story, who has a family, and who has been an essential worker who can’t work from home. That person is telling us that they can’t breathe, but sometimes the only things seen are comorbidities through a misinformed or biased lens that suggest an assumed lack of personal responsibility. In a May 2020 New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Racial health disparities and Covid-19” (doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2012910), Merlin Chowkwanyun, PhD, MPH, and Adolph L. Reed Jr., PhD, caution us against creating race-based explanations for presumed behavioral patterns.

Systemic racism has created the myth that the playing field has been leveled since the end of enslavement. It hasn’t. That black man, woman, or nonbinary person is telling you “I can’t breathe. I’m tired. I’m short of breath ... I have a cough ... I’m feeling weak these days, Doc.” However, implicit bias is still that knee that won’t let up. It has not let up. Communities with lower-income black and Hispanic patients have already seen local hospitals and frontline workers fight to save their lives while losing their own to COVID-19. We all witnessed the battle for scarce resources and PPE [personal protective equipment]. In contrast, some wealthy neighborhoods have occupants who most likely have access to a primary care physician and more testing centers.

As we reexamine ourselves and look at these cases of police brutality against unarmed black men, women, and children with the appropriate shame and outrage, let us reflect upon the privileges that we enjoy. Let us find our voice as we speak up for black lives. Let us look deeply into the history of medicine as it relates to black patients by reading “Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present” by Harriet A. Washington. Let us examine that painful legacy, which, while having moments of good intention, still carries the stain of indifference, racism, neglect, and even experimentation without informed consent.

Why should we do these things? Because some of our black patients have also yelled or whispered, “I can’t breathe,” and we were not always listening either.
 

Dr. Ajala is a hospitalist and associate site director for education at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. She is a member of the executive council for SHM’s Care for Vulnerable Populations special interest group.

Over the last few weeks, several conflicting reports about the efficacy of SARS-CoV-2 treatments have emerged, including high-profile papers that were placed in the limelight and groundbreaking retractions that were issued by the Lancet and New England Journal of Medicine, involving the potential dangers of COVID therapy with findings derived from the Surgisphere database. Hydroxychloroquine has garnered considerable media attention and was touted earlier by President Trump for its therapeutic effects.¹ Naturally, there are political connotations associated with the agent, and it is unlikely that hydroxychloroquine will be supplanted in the near future as ongoing clinical trials have demonstrated mixed results amid the controversy.

As clinicians navigating unchartered territory within the hospital setting, we have to come to terms with these new challenges, tailoring treatment protocols accordingly with the best clinical practices in mind. Patients with preexisting mental health conditions and who are being treated for COVID-19 are particularly susceptible to clinical deterioration. Recent studies have indicated that psychiatric patients are more prone to feelings of isolation and/or estrangement as well as exacerbation of symptoms such as paranoia.² Even more concerning is the medication regimen, namely, the novel combination therapies that arise when agents such as hydroxychloroquine are used in tandem with certain antipsychotics or antidepressants. As clinicians, we must reassess the psychotropic medication regimen for people who are currently being treated for or recovering from COVID-19.
 

What’s at stake for COVID-19–positive mental health care patients?

Although the efficacy of hydroxychloroquine is currently being investigated,³ the antimalarial is usually prescribed in tandem with azithromycin for people with COVID-19. The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases has advised against that particular combination therapy because of ongoing concerns about toxicities.^3,4

In another study, azithromycin was effectively substituted with doxycycline to help minimize systemic effects for patients with cardiac and/or pulmonary issues^.5 Azithromycin is notorious in the literature for influencing the electrical activity of the heart with the potential for fatal arrhythmia and sudden cardiac death in individuals at risk for cardiovascular disease.^5,6,7 It should be noted that both of these commonly prescribed COVID-19 medications (for example, hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin) could lead to QT interval prolongation especially within the context of combination therapy. This is largely concerning for psychiatrists and various other mental health practitioners for the following reasons: (1) higher rates of metabolic syndrome and cardiovascular diseases among psychiatric patients⁸ and/or (2) effects of certain antipsychotics (for example, IV haloperidol, thioridazine, and ziprasidone) and antidepressants (for example, citalopram and escitalopram) on the QT interval.⁹

SARS-CoV-2 and clinical judgment: Evaluating patients at higher risk

Although COVID-19 medication guidelines are still being actively developed, hydroxychloroquine appears to be commonly prescribed by physicians. The medication is known myriad untoward effects, including potential behavioral dysfunction (for example, irritability, agitation, suicidal ideation)10 as well as the aforementioned issues concerning arrhythmia (for example, torsades de pointes). Health care professionals might not have much control over the choice of COVID-19 agents because of a lack of available resources or limited options, but they can exercise clinical judgment with respect to selecting the appropriate psychotropic medications.

Treatment recommendations

1. Establish a baseline EKG

A baseline 12-lead EKG is the standard of care for patients currently being screened for COVID-19. It is necessary to rule out the presence of an underlying cardiovascular disease or a rhythm irregularity. A prolonged QTc interval is generally regarded as being around greater than 450-470 msecs with variations attributable to gender;¹¹ numerous studies have affirmed that the risk of acquiring torsades de pointes is substantial when the QTc interval exceeds 500 msecs.¹²

2. Medical management and risk assessment

Commonly prescribed antipsychotics such as IV haloperidol and ziprasidone are known for exerting a negative effect on the interval and should readily be substituted with other agents in patients who are being treated for COVID-19; the combination of these antipsychotics alongside some COVID-19 medication regimens (for example, hydroxychloroquine/azithromycin) might prove to be fatal. The same logic applies to COVID-19 patients previously on antidepressant therapeutics such as citalopram and escitalopram.

3. Embrace an individually tailored approach to therapeutics

While American Psychiatric Association guidelines historically supported a cessation or reduction in the offending agent under normal circumstances,¹² our team is recommending that the psychotropics associated with QTc interval prolongation are discontinued altogether (or substituted with a low-risk agent) in the event that a patient presents with suspected COVID-19. However, after the patients tests negative with COVID-19, they may resume therapy as indicated under the discretion of the mental health practitioner.
 

References

1. Offard C. “Lancet, NEJM Retract Surgisphere Studies on COVID-19 Patients.” The Scientist Magazine. 2020 Jun 4.

2. Shigemura J et al. Psychiatry Clin Neurosci. 2020 Apr;74(4):281-2.

3. Keshtkar-Jahromi M and Bavari S. Am J Trop Med Hyg. 2020 May;102(5):932-3.

4. Palca J. “NIH panel recommends against drug combination promoted by Trump for COVID-19.” NPR. 2020 Apr 21.

5. Mongelli L. “Long Island doctor tries new twist on hydroxychloroquine for elderly COVID-19 patients.” New York Post. 2020 Apr 4.

6. Hancox JC et al. Ther Adv Infect Dis. 2013 Oct;(5):155-65.

7. Giudicessi JR and Ackerman MJ. Cleve Clin J Med. 2013 Sep;80(9):539-44.

8. Casey DE. Am J Med. 2005 Apr 1;118(Suppl 2):15S-22S.

9. Beach SR et al. Psychosomatics. 2013 Jan 1;54(1):1-3.

10. Bogaczewicz A and Sobów T. Psychiatria i Psychologia Kliniczna. 2017;17(2):111-4.

11. Chohan PS et al. Pak J Med Sci. 2015 Sep-Oct;31(5):1269-71.

12. Lieberman JA et al. APA guidance on the use of antipsychotic drugs and cardiac sudden death. NYS Office of Mental Health. 2012.
 

Dr. Faisal A. Islam is medical adviser for the International Maternal and Child Health Foundation, Montreal, and is based in New York. He also is a postdoctoral fellow, psychopharmacologist, and a board-certified medical affairs specialist. Dr. Faisal Islam disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Dr. Mohammed Islam is affiliated with the department of psychiatry at the Interfaith Medical Center, New York. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Dr. Choudhry is the chief scientific officer and head of the department of mental health and clinical research at the International Maternal and Child Health Foundation. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Over the last few weeks, several conflicting reports about the efficacy of SARS-CoV-2 treatments have emerged, including high-profile papers that were placed in the limelight and groundbreaking retractions that were issued by the Lancet and New England Journal of Medicine, involving the potential dangers of COVID therapy with findings derived from the Surgisphere database. Hydroxychloroquine has garnered considerable media attention and was touted earlier by President Trump for its therapeutic effects.¹ Naturally, there are political connotations associated with the agent, and it is unlikely that hydroxychloroquine will be supplanted in the near future as ongoing clinical trials have demonstrated mixed results amid the controversy.

As clinicians navigating unchartered territory within the hospital setting, we have to come to terms with these new challenges, tailoring treatment protocols accordingly with the best clinical practices in mind. Patients with preexisting mental health conditions and who are being treated for COVID-19 are particularly susceptible to clinical deterioration. Recent studies have indicated that psychiatric patients are more prone to feelings of isolation and/or estrangement as well as exacerbation of symptoms such as paranoia.² Even more concerning is the medication regimen, namely, the novel combination therapies that arise when agents such as hydroxychloroquine are used in tandem with certain antipsychotics or antidepressants. As clinicians, we must reassess the psychotropic medication regimen for people who are currently being treated for or recovering from COVID-19.
 

What’s at stake for COVID-19–positive mental health care patients?

Although the efficacy of hydroxychloroquine is currently being investigated,³ the antimalarial is usually prescribed in tandem with azithromycin for people with COVID-19. The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases has advised against that particular combination therapy because of ongoing concerns about toxicities.^3,4

In another study, azithromycin was effectively substituted with doxycycline to help minimize systemic effects for patients with cardiac and/or pulmonary issues^.5 Azithromycin is notorious in the literature for influencing the electrical activity of the heart with the potential for fatal arrhythmia and sudden cardiac death in individuals at risk for cardiovascular disease.^5,6,7 It should be noted that both of these commonly prescribed COVID-19 medications (for example, hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin) could lead to QT interval prolongation especially within the context of combination therapy. This is largely concerning for psychiatrists and various other mental health practitioners for the following reasons: (1) higher rates of metabolic syndrome and cardiovascular diseases among psychiatric patients⁸ and/or (2) effects of certain antipsychotics (for example, IV haloperidol, thioridazine, and ziprasidone) and antidepressants (for example, citalopram and escitalopram) on the QT interval.⁹

SARS-CoV-2 and clinical judgment: Evaluating patients at higher risk

Although COVID-19 medication guidelines are still being actively developed, hydroxychloroquine appears to be commonly prescribed by physicians. The medication is known myriad untoward effects, including potential behavioral dysfunction (for example, irritability, agitation, suicidal ideation)10 as well as the aforementioned issues concerning arrhythmia (for example, torsades de pointes). Health care professionals might not have much control over the choice of COVID-19 agents because of a lack of available resources or limited options, but they can exercise clinical judgment with respect to selecting the appropriate psychotropic medications.

Treatment recommendations

1. Establish a baseline EKG

A baseline 12-lead EKG is the standard of care for patients currently being screened for COVID-19. It is necessary to rule out the presence of an underlying cardiovascular disease or a rhythm irregularity. A prolonged QTc interval is generally regarded as being around greater than 450-470 msecs with variations attributable to gender;¹¹ numerous studies have affirmed that the risk of acquiring torsades de pointes is substantial when the QTc interval exceeds 500 msecs.¹²

2. Medical management and risk assessment

Commonly prescribed antipsychotics such as IV haloperidol and ziprasidone are known for exerting a negative effect on the interval and should readily be substituted with other agents in patients who are being treated for COVID-19; the combination of these antipsychotics alongside some COVID-19 medication regimens (for example, hydroxychloroquine/azithromycin) might prove to be fatal. The same logic applies to COVID-19 patients previously on antidepressant therapeutics such as citalopram and escitalopram.

3. Embrace an individually tailored approach to therapeutics

While American Psychiatric Association guidelines historically supported a cessation or reduction in the offending agent under normal circumstances,¹² our team is recommending that the psychotropics associated with QTc interval prolongation are discontinued altogether (or substituted with a low-risk agent) in the event that a patient presents with suspected COVID-19. However, after the patients tests negative with COVID-19, they may resume therapy as indicated under the discretion of the mental health practitioner.
 

References

1. Offard C. “Lancet, NEJM Retract Surgisphere Studies on COVID-19 Patients.” The Scientist Magazine. 2020 Jun 4.

2. Shigemura J et al. Psychiatry Clin Neurosci. 2020 Apr;74(4):281-2.

3. Keshtkar-Jahromi M and Bavari S. Am J Trop Med Hyg. 2020 May;102(5):932-3.

4. Palca J. “NIH panel recommends against drug combination promoted by Trump for COVID-19.” NPR. 2020 Apr 21.

5. Mongelli L. “Long Island doctor tries new twist on hydroxychloroquine for elderly COVID-19 patients.” New York Post. 2020 Apr 4.

6. Hancox JC et al. Ther Adv Infect Dis. 2013 Oct;(5):155-65.

7. Giudicessi JR and Ackerman MJ. Cleve Clin J Med. 2013 Sep;80(9):539-44.

8. Casey DE. Am J Med. 2005 Apr 1;118(Suppl 2):15S-22S.

9. Beach SR et al. Psychosomatics. 2013 Jan 1;54(1):1-3.

10. Bogaczewicz A and Sobów T. Psychiatria i Psychologia Kliniczna. 2017;17(2):111-4.

11. Chohan PS et al. Pak J Med Sci. 2015 Sep-Oct;31(5):1269-71.

12. Lieberman JA et al. APA guidance on the use of antipsychotic drugs and cardiac sudden death. NYS Office of Mental Health. 2012.
 

Dr. Faisal A. Islam is medical adviser for the International Maternal and Child Health Foundation, Montreal, and is based in New York. He also is a postdoctoral fellow, psychopharmacologist, and a board-certified medical affairs specialist. Dr. Faisal Islam disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Dr. Mohammed Islam is affiliated with the department of psychiatry at the Interfaith Medical Center, New York. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Dr. Choudhry is the chief scientific officer and head of the department of mental health and clinical research at the International Maternal and Child Health Foundation. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Over the last few weeks, several conflicting reports about the efficacy of SARS-CoV-2 treatments have emerged, including high-profile papers that were placed in the limelight and groundbreaking retractions that were issued by the Lancet and New England Journal of Medicine, involving the potential dangers of COVID therapy with findings derived from the Surgisphere database. Hydroxychloroquine has garnered considerable media attention and was touted earlier by President Trump for its therapeutic effects.¹ Naturally, there are political connotations associated with the agent, and it is unlikely that hydroxychloroquine will be supplanted in the near future as ongoing clinical trials have demonstrated mixed results amid the controversy.

As clinicians navigating unchartered territory within the hospital setting, we have to come to terms with these new challenges, tailoring treatment protocols accordingly with the best clinical practices in mind. Patients with preexisting mental health conditions and who are being treated for COVID-19 are particularly susceptible to clinical deterioration. Recent studies have indicated that psychiatric patients are more prone to feelings of isolation and/or estrangement as well as exacerbation of symptoms such as paranoia.² Even more concerning is the medication regimen, namely, the novel combination therapies that arise when agents such as hydroxychloroquine are used in tandem with certain antipsychotics or antidepressants. As clinicians, we must reassess the psychotropic medication regimen for people who are currently being treated for or recovering from COVID-19.
 

What’s at stake for COVID-19–positive mental health care patients?

Although the efficacy of hydroxychloroquine is currently being investigated,³ the antimalarial is usually prescribed in tandem with azithromycin for people with COVID-19. The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases has advised against that particular combination therapy because of ongoing concerns about toxicities.^3,4

In another study, azithromycin was effectively substituted with doxycycline to help minimize systemic effects for patients with cardiac and/or pulmonary issues^.5 Azithromycin is notorious in the literature for influencing the electrical activity of the heart with the potential for fatal arrhythmia and sudden cardiac death in individuals at risk for cardiovascular disease.^5,6,7 It should be noted that both of these commonly prescribed COVID-19 medications (for example, hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin) could lead to QT interval prolongation especially within the context of combination therapy. This is largely concerning for psychiatrists and various other mental health practitioners for the following reasons: (1) higher rates of metabolic syndrome and cardiovascular diseases among psychiatric patients⁸ and/or (2) effects of certain antipsychotics (for example, IV haloperidol, thioridazine, and ziprasidone) and antidepressants (for example, citalopram and escitalopram) on the QT interval.⁹

SARS-CoV-2 and clinical judgment: Evaluating patients at higher risk

Although COVID-19 medication guidelines are still being actively developed, hydroxychloroquine appears to be commonly prescribed by physicians. The medication is known myriad untoward effects, including potential behavioral dysfunction (for example, irritability, agitation, suicidal ideation)10 as well as the aforementioned issues concerning arrhythmia (for example, torsades de pointes). Health care professionals might not have much control over the choice of COVID-19 agents because of a lack of available resources or limited options, but they can exercise clinical judgment with respect to selecting the appropriate psychotropic medications.

Treatment recommendations

1. Establish a baseline EKG

A baseline 12-lead EKG is the standard of care for patients currently being screened for COVID-19. It is necessary to rule out the presence of an underlying cardiovascular disease or a rhythm irregularity. A prolonged QTc interval is generally regarded as being around greater than 450-470 msecs with variations attributable to gender;¹¹ numerous studies have affirmed that the risk of acquiring torsades de pointes is substantial when the QTc interval exceeds 500 msecs.¹²

2. Medical management and risk assessment

Commonly prescribed antipsychotics such as IV haloperidol and ziprasidone are known for exerting a negative effect on the interval and should readily be substituted with other agents in patients who are being treated for COVID-19; the combination of these antipsychotics alongside some COVID-19 medication regimens (for example, hydroxychloroquine/azithromycin) might prove to be fatal. The same logic applies to COVID-19 patients previously on antidepressant therapeutics such as citalopram and escitalopram.

3. Embrace an individually tailored approach to therapeutics

While American Psychiatric Association guidelines historically supported a cessation or reduction in the offending agent under normal circumstances,¹² our team is recommending that the psychotropics associated with QTc interval prolongation are discontinued altogether (or substituted with a low-risk agent) in the event that a patient presents with suspected COVID-19. However, after the patients tests negative with COVID-19, they may resume therapy as indicated under the discretion of the mental health practitioner.
 

References

1. Offard C. “Lancet, NEJM Retract Surgisphere Studies on COVID-19 Patients.” The Scientist Magazine. 2020 Jun 4.

2. Shigemura J et al. Psychiatry Clin Neurosci. 2020 Apr;74(4):281-2.

3. Keshtkar-Jahromi M and Bavari S. Am J Trop Med Hyg. 2020 May;102(5):932-3.

4. Palca J. “NIH panel recommends against drug combination promoted by Trump for COVID-19.” NPR. 2020 Apr 21.

5. Mongelli L. “Long Island doctor tries new twist on hydroxychloroquine for elderly COVID-19 patients.” New York Post. 2020 Apr 4.

6. Hancox JC et al. Ther Adv Infect Dis. 2013 Oct;(5):155-65.

7. Giudicessi JR and Ackerman MJ. Cleve Clin J Med. 2013 Sep;80(9):539-44.

8. Casey DE. Am J Med. 2005 Apr 1;118(Suppl 2):15S-22S.

9. Beach SR et al. Psychosomatics. 2013 Jan 1;54(1):1-3.

10. Bogaczewicz A and Sobów T. Psychiatria i Psychologia Kliniczna. 2017;17(2):111-4.

11. Chohan PS et al. Pak J Med Sci. 2015 Sep-Oct;31(5):1269-71.

12. Lieberman JA et al. APA guidance on the use of antipsychotic drugs and cardiac sudden death. NYS Office of Mental Health. 2012.
 

Dr. Faisal A. Islam is medical adviser for the International Maternal and Child Health Foundation, Montreal, and is based in New York. He also is a postdoctoral fellow, psychopharmacologist, and a board-certified medical affairs specialist. Dr. Faisal Islam disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Dr. Mohammed Islam is affiliated with the department of psychiatry at the Interfaith Medical Center, New York. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Dr. Choudhry is the chief scientific officer and head of the department of mental health and clinical research at the International Maternal and Child Health Foundation. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.