Clinical Psychiatry News

Martha Clare Morris, ScD, a pioneer in research linking nutrition to brain health and a creator of the breakthrough MIND diet, has died of cancer at the age of 64.

Morris was a professor in the Department of Internal Medicine, assistant provost of community research, and director of the Rush Institute for Healthy Aging at Rush University, in Chicago, Illinois. She was also a director of the internal medicine department’s Section of Community Epidemiology.

Long-time friend and colleague Julie A. Schneider, MD, the Deborah R. and Edgar D. Jannotta Presidential Professor of Pathology and Neurological Sciences, Rush University Medical Center, described Morris as creative, passionate, and adventurous.

Her death was “a shock” to the scientific community, Schneider told Medscape Medical News.

“It’s a tragic loss in so many ways,” said Schneider, who is also associate director of the Rush Alzheimer’s Disease Center. She was a very well-respected nutritional epidemiologist and was passionate about her work; she had just so much unwavering commitment to it.

Diet, said Schneider, is “notoriously a hard thing to study” because “it’s so intertwined with lifestyle” and other factors that create “barriers” to conducting such research.

But Morris had a unique and creative talent for filtering out what might be the individual contribution of a particular modifiable risk factor, said Heather Snyder, PhD, vice president of medical and scientific relations, Alzheimer’s Association, who also knew Morris both personally and professionally.

“Humble” trailblazer

Morris’s pioneering research examined the connection between nutrition and the prevention of cognitive decline. Taking results from this research, she developed the MIND diet – a hybrid of the Mediterranean diet and the Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension – along with colleagues at both Rush and Harvard Universities.

The MIND diet – an acronym for Mediterranean-DASH Intervention for Neurodegenerative Delay – emphasizes brain-healthy foods, including leafy green vegetables, nuts, berries, chicken, fish, whole grains, beans, olive oil, and moderate amounts of red wine. The diet limits consumption of red meat, butter, margarine, and processed foods.

In 2015, Morris published her initial findings on the MIND diet in Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Reported by Medscape Medical News at that time, the study showed that the diet protected cardiovascular health and slowed cognitive decline in older individuals.

The excitement around the findings inspired Morris to write “Diet for the Mind,” which was published in 2017. The book summarizes the benefits of the MIND diet and includes brain-healthy recipes created by her daughter Laura, who is a chef. Despite many accolades, Morris was “humble” about this project, said Schneider.

“This was not about publicity and trying to get a book out; she wanted to see if this diet really was going to change people’s lives. She wanted to bring it into the community,” she said.

Proud legacy

Since 2017, Morris had led a large clinical trial of the effectiveness of the MIND diet in preventing cognitive decline. The first study of its kind, the trial received a $14.5 million grant from the National Institutes of Health (NIH). Results of this study are expected in 2021.

The MIND diet was ranked among the top 10 diets for five consecutive years in US News and World Report.

Morris’s nutrition-related research went beyond diets and examined the impact of individual nutrients. One of her studies, published in 2018 and reported by Medscape Medical News, suggested that the presence of folate, phylloquinone, and lutein – nutrients found in relatively large amounts in green leafy vegetables – may account for why consuming a daily serving of these vegetables slows cognitive decline.

One of the most recent studies from Morris’ group, published in January 2020 and reported by Medscape Medical News at that time, provided the first evidence that dietary flavonols, which are found in many fruits and vegetables, are associated with a significantly reduced risk for dementia.

What Morris did so well was to “look at the big picture” and “think about commonalities that cross nutritional components” of diets such as MIND, DASH, the Mediterranean diet, and the Nordic diet, which is similar to the Mediterranean diet but highlights local foods such as fish from Nordic regions, Snyder told Medscape Medical News.

Morris was instrumental in getting the Alzheimer’s Association’s US POINTER (US Study to Protect Brain Health Through Lifestyle Intervention to Reduce Risk) study off the ground. The 2-year clinical trial is testing whether combining a healthy diet with exercise, cognitive and social stimulation, and the management of cardiovascular conditions protects cognitive function in older adults who are at increased risk for cognitive decline.

This study will be part of her legacy, said Snyder.

“She will be remembered for her perseverance to get us to a place where we can be looking at nutrition as a modifiable risk factor and now testing it in trials that she helped to set up,” she said.

Even before her involvement with US POINTER, Morris had long been an active volunteer for the Alzheimer’s Association, said Snyder.

“She contributed significant time and expertise as we looked at the state of the evidence around nutrition and other lifestyle and behavioral interventions.”

We’ll ‘always have Paris’

While Morris was “truly passionate” about diet and health “both professionally and personally,” she also had a fun side, said Schneider. She remembers she and Morris had a chance meeting in Paris, where they spent an entire day going to museums and restaurants and just talking about life and their travels. To the end, they joked they would “always have Paris,” said Schneider.

She was also a loyal friend. Morris threw a baby shower when Schneider was pregnant, organizing every detail, despite her extremely busy schedule.

Family was another of Morris’s passions. Snyder recalls Morris’s face lighting up when she talked about her children and grandchildren. She also remembers her friend’s zest for life. “She had an energy that was contagious.”

Morris also loved the outdoors and was a keen adventurer. She once trained for weeks before a long bike trip with her daughter and would take a helicopter to access remote backcountry on hiking excursions.

“She wanted to try everything,” said Schneider.

An author or contributor to more than 80 articles in peer-reviewed journals, Morris also served two terms (from 2011 to 2013) as chair of the NIH’s Neurological, Aging and Musculoskeletal Epidemiology Study Section.

She left behind multiple grants for various studies. One unique study, said Schneider, investigated the relationship between iron and other metals in the brain and the neuropathology of Alzheimer disease.

“She was really in the prime of her career,” noted Schneider. “She had so much left to give and to offer, so this is tremendously sad.”

According to news reports, Morris (nee Chinn) grew up in Homewood, Illinois, and earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sociology from the University of Iowa in Iowa City, where she met her husband, James Morris. The two married in 1978 and had three children.

Morris completed a doctorate in epidemiology at the Harvard School of Public Health. James died in 2012, also from cancer. Morris passed away peacefully at her home on February 15.

Martha Clare Morris, ScD, a pioneer in research linking nutrition to brain health and a creator of the breakthrough MIND diet, has died of cancer at the age of 64.

Morris was a professor in the Department of Internal Medicine, assistant provost of community research, and director of the Rush Institute for Healthy Aging at Rush University, in Chicago, Illinois. She was also a director of the internal medicine department’s Section of Community Epidemiology.

Long-time friend and colleague Julie A. Schneider, MD, the Deborah R. and Edgar D. Jannotta Presidential Professor of Pathology and Neurological Sciences, Rush University Medical Center, described Morris as creative, passionate, and adventurous.

Her death was “a shock” to the scientific community, Schneider told Medscape Medical News.

“It’s a tragic loss in so many ways,” said Schneider, who is also associate director of the Rush Alzheimer’s Disease Center. She was a very well-respected nutritional epidemiologist and was passionate about her work; she had just so much unwavering commitment to it.

Diet, said Schneider, is “notoriously a hard thing to study” because “it’s so intertwined with lifestyle” and other factors that create “barriers” to conducting such research.

But Morris had a unique and creative talent for filtering out what might be the individual contribution of a particular modifiable risk factor, said Heather Snyder, PhD, vice president of medical and scientific relations, Alzheimer’s Association, who also knew Morris both personally and professionally.

“Humble” trailblazer

Morris’s pioneering research examined the connection between nutrition and the prevention of cognitive decline. Taking results from this research, she developed the MIND diet – a hybrid of the Mediterranean diet and the Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension – along with colleagues at both Rush and Harvard Universities.

The MIND diet – an acronym for Mediterranean-DASH Intervention for Neurodegenerative Delay – emphasizes brain-healthy foods, including leafy green vegetables, nuts, berries, chicken, fish, whole grains, beans, olive oil, and moderate amounts of red wine. The diet limits consumption of red meat, butter, margarine, and processed foods.

In 2015, Morris published her initial findings on the MIND diet in Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Reported by Medscape Medical News at that time, the study showed that the diet protected cardiovascular health and slowed cognitive decline in older individuals.

The excitement around the findings inspired Morris to write “Diet for the Mind,” which was published in 2017. The book summarizes the benefits of the MIND diet and includes brain-healthy recipes created by her daughter Laura, who is a chef. Despite many accolades, Morris was “humble” about this project, said Schneider.

“This was not about publicity and trying to get a book out; she wanted to see if this diet really was going to change people’s lives. She wanted to bring it into the community,” she said.

Proud legacy

Since 2017, Morris had led a large clinical trial of the effectiveness of the MIND diet in preventing cognitive decline. The first study of its kind, the trial received a $14.5 million grant from the National Institutes of Health (NIH). Results of this study are expected in 2021.

The MIND diet was ranked among the top 10 diets for five consecutive years in US News and World Report.

Morris’s nutrition-related research went beyond diets and examined the impact of individual nutrients. One of her studies, published in 2018 and reported by Medscape Medical News, suggested that the presence of folate, phylloquinone, and lutein – nutrients found in relatively large amounts in green leafy vegetables – may account for why consuming a daily serving of these vegetables slows cognitive decline.

One of the most recent studies from Morris’ group, published in January 2020 and reported by Medscape Medical News at that time, provided the first evidence that dietary flavonols, which are found in many fruits and vegetables, are associated with a significantly reduced risk for dementia.

What Morris did so well was to “look at the big picture” and “think about commonalities that cross nutritional components” of diets such as MIND, DASH, the Mediterranean diet, and the Nordic diet, which is similar to the Mediterranean diet but highlights local foods such as fish from Nordic regions, Snyder told Medscape Medical News.

Morris was instrumental in getting the Alzheimer’s Association’s US POINTER (US Study to Protect Brain Health Through Lifestyle Intervention to Reduce Risk) study off the ground. The 2-year clinical trial is testing whether combining a healthy diet with exercise, cognitive and social stimulation, and the management of cardiovascular conditions protects cognitive function in older adults who are at increased risk for cognitive decline.

This study will be part of her legacy, said Snyder.

“She will be remembered for her perseverance to get us to a place where we can be looking at nutrition as a modifiable risk factor and now testing it in trials that she helped to set up,” she said.

Even before her involvement with US POINTER, Morris had long been an active volunteer for the Alzheimer’s Association, said Snyder.

“She contributed significant time and expertise as we looked at the state of the evidence around nutrition and other lifestyle and behavioral interventions.”

We’ll ‘always have Paris’

While Morris was “truly passionate” about diet and health “both professionally and personally,” she also had a fun side, said Schneider. She remembers she and Morris had a chance meeting in Paris, where they spent an entire day going to museums and restaurants and just talking about life and their travels. To the end, they joked they would “always have Paris,” said Schneider.

She was also a loyal friend. Morris threw a baby shower when Schneider was pregnant, organizing every detail, despite her extremely busy schedule.

Family was another of Morris’s passions. Snyder recalls Morris’s face lighting up when she talked about her children and grandchildren. She also remembers her friend’s zest for life. “She had an energy that was contagious.”

Morris also loved the outdoors and was a keen adventurer. She once trained for weeks before a long bike trip with her daughter and would take a helicopter to access remote backcountry on hiking excursions.

“She wanted to try everything,” said Schneider.

An author or contributor to more than 80 articles in peer-reviewed journals, Morris also served two terms (from 2011 to 2013) as chair of the NIH’s Neurological, Aging and Musculoskeletal Epidemiology Study Section.

She left behind multiple grants for various studies. One unique study, said Schneider, investigated the relationship between iron and other metals in the brain and the neuropathology of Alzheimer disease.

“She was really in the prime of her career,” noted Schneider. “She had so much left to give and to offer, so this is tremendously sad.”

According to news reports, Morris (nee Chinn) grew up in Homewood, Illinois, and earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sociology from the University of Iowa in Iowa City, where she met her husband, James Morris. The two married in 1978 and had three children.

Morris completed a doctorate in epidemiology at the Harvard School of Public Health. James died in 2012, also from cancer. Morris passed away peacefully at her home on February 15.

Martha Clare Morris, ScD, a pioneer in research linking nutrition to brain health and a creator of the breakthrough MIND diet, has died of cancer at the age of 64.

Morris was a professor in the Department of Internal Medicine, assistant provost of community research, and director of the Rush Institute for Healthy Aging at Rush University, in Chicago, Illinois. She was also a director of the internal medicine department’s Section of Community Epidemiology.

Long-time friend and colleague Julie A. Schneider, MD, the Deborah R. and Edgar D. Jannotta Presidential Professor of Pathology and Neurological Sciences, Rush University Medical Center, described Morris as creative, passionate, and adventurous.

Her death was “a shock” to the scientific community, Schneider told Medscape Medical News.

“It’s a tragic loss in so many ways,” said Schneider, who is also associate director of the Rush Alzheimer’s Disease Center. She was a very well-respected nutritional epidemiologist and was passionate about her work; she had just so much unwavering commitment to it.

Diet, said Schneider, is “notoriously a hard thing to study” because “it’s so intertwined with lifestyle” and other factors that create “barriers” to conducting such research.

But Morris had a unique and creative talent for filtering out what might be the individual contribution of a particular modifiable risk factor, said Heather Snyder, PhD, vice president of medical and scientific relations, Alzheimer’s Association, who also knew Morris both personally and professionally.

“Humble” trailblazer

Morris’s pioneering research examined the connection between nutrition and the prevention of cognitive decline. Taking results from this research, she developed the MIND diet – a hybrid of the Mediterranean diet and the Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension – along with colleagues at both Rush and Harvard Universities.

The MIND diet – an acronym for Mediterranean-DASH Intervention for Neurodegenerative Delay – emphasizes brain-healthy foods, including leafy green vegetables, nuts, berries, chicken, fish, whole grains, beans, olive oil, and moderate amounts of red wine. The diet limits consumption of red meat, butter, margarine, and processed foods.

In 2015, Morris published her initial findings on the MIND diet in Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Reported by Medscape Medical News at that time, the study showed that the diet protected cardiovascular health and slowed cognitive decline in older individuals.

The excitement around the findings inspired Morris to write “Diet for the Mind,” which was published in 2017. The book summarizes the benefits of the MIND diet and includes brain-healthy recipes created by her daughter Laura, who is a chef. Despite many accolades, Morris was “humble” about this project, said Schneider.

“This was not about publicity and trying to get a book out; she wanted to see if this diet really was going to change people’s lives. She wanted to bring it into the community,” she said.

Proud legacy

Since 2017, Morris had led a large clinical trial of the effectiveness of the MIND diet in preventing cognitive decline. The first study of its kind, the trial received a $14.5 million grant from the National Institutes of Health (NIH). Results of this study are expected in 2021.

The MIND diet was ranked among the top 10 diets for five consecutive years in US News and World Report.

Morris’s nutrition-related research went beyond diets and examined the impact of individual nutrients. One of her studies, published in 2018 and reported by Medscape Medical News, suggested that the presence of folate, phylloquinone, and lutein – nutrients found in relatively large amounts in green leafy vegetables – may account for why consuming a daily serving of these vegetables slows cognitive decline.

One of the most recent studies from Morris’ group, published in January 2020 and reported by Medscape Medical News at that time, provided the first evidence that dietary flavonols, which are found in many fruits and vegetables, are associated with a significantly reduced risk for dementia.

What Morris did so well was to “look at the big picture” and “think about commonalities that cross nutritional components” of diets such as MIND, DASH, the Mediterranean diet, and the Nordic diet, which is similar to the Mediterranean diet but highlights local foods such as fish from Nordic regions, Snyder told Medscape Medical News.

Morris was instrumental in getting the Alzheimer’s Association’s US POINTER (US Study to Protect Brain Health Through Lifestyle Intervention to Reduce Risk) study off the ground. The 2-year clinical trial is testing whether combining a healthy diet with exercise, cognitive and social stimulation, and the management of cardiovascular conditions protects cognitive function in older adults who are at increased risk for cognitive decline.

This study will be part of her legacy, said Snyder.

“She will be remembered for her perseverance to get us to a place where we can be looking at nutrition as a modifiable risk factor and now testing it in trials that she helped to set up,” she said.

Even before her involvement with US POINTER, Morris had long been an active volunteer for the Alzheimer’s Association, said Snyder.

“She contributed significant time and expertise as we looked at the state of the evidence around nutrition and other lifestyle and behavioral interventions.”

We’ll ‘always have Paris’

While Morris was “truly passionate” about diet and health “both professionally and personally,” she also had a fun side, said Schneider. She remembers she and Morris had a chance meeting in Paris, where they spent an entire day going to museums and restaurants and just talking about life and their travels. To the end, they joked they would “always have Paris,” said Schneider.

She was also a loyal friend. Morris threw a baby shower when Schneider was pregnant, organizing every detail, despite her extremely busy schedule.

Family was another of Morris’s passions. Snyder recalls Morris’s face lighting up when she talked about her children and grandchildren. She also remembers her friend’s zest for life. “She had an energy that was contagious.”

Morris also loved the outdoors and was a keen adventurer. She once trained for weeks before a long bike trip with her daughter and would take a helicopter to access remote backcountry on hiking excursions.

“She wanted to try everything,” said Schneider.

An author or contributor to more than 80 articles in peer-reviewed journals, Morris also served two terms (from 2011 to 2013) as chair of the NIH’s Neurological, Aging and Musculoskeletal Epidemiology Study Section.

She left behind multiple grants for various studies. One unique study, said Schneider, investigated the relationship between iron and other metals in the brain and the neuropathology of Alzheimer disease.

“She was really in the prime of her career,” noted Schneider. “She had so much left to give and to offer, so this is tremendously sad.”

According to news reports, Morris (nee Chinn) grew up in Homewood, Illinois, and earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sociology from the University of Iowa in Iowa City, where she met her husband, James Morris. The two married in 1978 and had three children.

Morris completed a doctorate in epidemiology at the Harvard School of Public Health. James died in 2012, also from cancer. Morris passed away peacefully at her home on February 15.

Recently, Nicolas Badre, MD, challenged psychiatrists who care for patients involved in the legal system. He encouraged “a resurgence of personal accountability and responsibility.”

Using the chronically disenfranchised patients who are repetitiously shuttled between jails and mental hospitals as examples, he pointed out that we psychiatrists must “step up to the plate” and approach clinical problems with the attitude that “the buck stops with me.” As Dr. Badre pointed out, this is especially true when dealing with large, complex systems in which fragmented care exists without clear leadership. This, in turn, allows for a dissolution of accountability.

Accountability is a natural continuation of our training as physicians. We all remember the transition from medical student to intern, the steep learning curve as well as growth and maturation during this changeover. A dramatic transformation occurs over the course of 1 year, from medical students who tag along learning from patients to interns expected to be on their own for endless hours.

Over the course of those hours, we came to the understanding that people’s lives were in our hands. This causes a shift in our identity. This process continues throughout residency and onward in our careers. At some point, it becomes part of our innate identity as physicians or our professional sense of self – which is hard to describe to nonphysicians.

A profound example of a sense of accountability within the medical profession can be found in “How We Live,” a book by National Book Award winner Sherwin B. Nuland, MD. In the book, the late Dr. Nuland recounted how, as a 49-year-old seasoned surgeon working at Yale University, New Haven, Conn., and casually rounding on patients, he heard a frantic message: “Any general surgeon! Any general surgeon! Go immediately to the operating room – immediately – any general surgeon!”

The case involved a 42-year-old wife and mother who had been rushed to the ED after having been found in the community in a profound state of shock. In the ED, it was suspected that the patient was bleeding heavily from a ruptured tubal pregnancy. She was sped rapidly to the operating room with an undetectable blood pressure and a barely palpable pulse. The on-call ob.gyn. had been summoned from home, and he rushed to the operating room along with his department chairman.

Because the woman had lost much of her blood supply, there was no time for crossmatching. The anesthesiologist had placed large-bore intravenous lines and transfused her with O-negative blood (the universal donor blood type) to try maintain some level of blood pressure. Before she could be even fully anesthetized, the ob.gyn had made an incision in her lower abdomen. The bleeding he encountered was profound.

After a quick evaluation, the ob.gyn. realized that the blood was coming from above, not below, leading to the emergency page that Dr. Nuland heard. Dr. Nuland described bounding up the stairs three at a time. He recalled: “[A] very real apprehension had entered my mind. I might encounter a situation that was beyond me, something that I might make even worse, something that would cause me to regret for the rest of my life that I had answered the page’s insistent call instead of simply turning my back on its urgency and slinking off to my car before anyone noticed I was there.”

However, he could not see himself doing such a thing and he rushed up to the operating room because, “walking away from that kind of cry for help would have violated every precept taught me by my life and my training, and every bit of moral sense I had. … . I bear an obsessive preoccupation with accepting responsibility, amounting really to a compulsively neurotic sense of duty.”

And yet in the next few seconds, as he was running to the operating room, he wondered: “Am I about to botch something up? Will I, in one quick stroke of ineptness and fate, bring my career crashing down around my feet and with it my sense of what I am? Am I on my way to destroy an unknown patient and myself at the same time?”

In Dr. Nuland’s thoughts lie the conundrum of responsibility for physicians. Thankfully for Dr. Nuland, he was able to save the day and diagnose a rare case of rupture of an aneurysm of the splenic artery and keep the patient alive. This dramatic story involved a surgical colleague who had to make split-second decisions while a patient’s life hanged in the balance, but the same principles apply to us as psychiatrists.

Sadly, like a ruptured splenic artery, depression and other mental illnesses can end lives in vulnerable patients facing overwhelming life crises. I would note that, in the above example of the surgical patient, the “system” for saving the woman’s life was well organized and resourced to allow for a comprehensive and time-limited intervention into a life-threatening situation. There was an operating room staffed by various professionals who all had a defined role. It required the leader, Dr. Nuland, to step in, make the right diagnosis, and then issue commands to the identified professionals who all recognized his leadership and were skilled in carrying out their assigned duties. Dr. Nuland clearly was the leader once he took charge.

An outpatient psychiatrist facing a suicidal patient must deal with a different set of challenges, often involving various complex systems as well as multiple barriers. Clinical barriers include available interdisciplinary resources/personnel to assist not only with the critical encounter, but also with extended evaluation and treatment in a secure, well-resourced environment. Administrative barriers can include justifying the optimal treatment plan to payors. Our lethal patients often require both outpatient and inpatient services with sometimes-conflicting agendas. In a recent article, I pointed out some of the vexing problems that arise when communication and collaboration are poor between inpatient and outpatient psychiatrists. In such complex environments, it is less clear what is involved in the outpatient psychiatrist stepping up to the plate and asserting leadership.

An emotionally wrenching article about an emergency physician, Matthew E. Seaman, MD, who died by suicide, reminds us of the potential for suicide in a complicated patient (in this case, a medical colleague) involving complex systems. Plagued by a review of his care by the medical board (they had forced him to surrender his medical license and allowed the allegations to go public in lieu of further disciplinary proceedings), a subsequent lawsuit and an ultimate attempt by the plaintiff to obtain Dr. Seaman’s personal assets led to his worsening mental health. According to his wife, also a physician, he was getting “more depressed by the insults and assaults on his integrity and professionalism.”

Just before the investigation, he had received a 30-year pin from the American Board of Emergency Medicine for his “dedication to the specialty.” He fell into a deep depression from which he could not recover despite several psychiatric admissions and several medication trials. Along with his depression, he suffered from severe anxiety, a known risk factor for suicide. Dr. Seaman was feeling overwhelmed by the lengthy legal process targeting him as being negligent. He begged his attorney to settle the case, but his insurance carrier would not allow it. According to his wife: “All sense of human worth had been beaten out of him.”

Dr. Seaman had been known as resilient. He could handle complex ED situations, including simultaneously dealing with multiple traumas. He previously had been named in three malpractice lawsuits and had prevailed in each one. But his resilience had greatly diminished, and he became overwhelmed. He previously had, as a physician, been able to step up to the plate of accountability. But now, because of a confluence of depression and anxiety as well as the “insults and assaults on his integrity and professionalism,” he found life to be unbearable with the resulting tragic end.

So how would we as psychiatrists step up to the plate and be accountable when faced with a struggling fellow physician at risk for suicide such as Dr. Seaman?

Be aware of relevant risk factors

In addition to being aware of the usual risk factors for suicide, it would behoove us to also understand how physician suicides differ from suicides among nonphysicians.¹ For example, physicians who have died by suicide were far more likely to have experienced job-related problems than nonphysicians, but less likely to have experienced the recent death of a loved one. Also noteworthy is that physicians who end their lives were more often married. In addition, Michael F. Myers, MD, a psychiatrist who has studied physician suicides, noted in the article about Dr. Seaman that struggling physicians are likely to suffer from shame and embarrassment.
 

Consider shame, burdensomeness, and secrecy

When suicide risk factors are taught to students and professionals, rarely is shame mentioned. Perhaps it is not a common risk factor in the general population, but shame and its cousin, disgrace, are known risk factors that likely apply more to people – such as physicians – who have built a reputation over their careers. One whole chapter is given to disgrace suicides in a book about suicide notes.² A reputation often is one of the most important factors for professionals, which creates their sense of identity and, by extension, a sense of purpose in life.

When a doctor perceives that his or her reputation is being destroyed, it can produce a profound sense of shame, one of the most powerful of negative emotions.³ Another feature among completed suicides that applies more generally is perceived burdensomeness, according to Thomas E. Joiner Jr., PhD, one of the deep and innovative researchers in the field of suicidology.⁴ Once a doctor starts feeling that he has been a failure in his professional life and starts ruminating about it, the feelings of failure may generalize to other areas of his life, so that he starts feeling that he is a burden to his spouse. This, then, only increases his shame.

The issue of secrecy also is noteworthy. I was struck reading a book by Dr. Myers on physician suicide by the many spouses and family members who were caught completely unaware of problems when their spouse, a doctor, ended their lives by suicide.⁵ The doctors hid their problems well, perhaps not wanting to burden their family members. Also, if feelings of shame are an issue, then concealment tends to occur. This concealment of suicidality runs counter to the current narrative among some in the professional community that suicides are preventable (this despite the continuing increase in rates of suicide at the same time that there are increases in mental health services and suicide prevention programs).⁶

As pointed out in some of the letters quoted in Dr. Myers’s book, those who completed suicide are smart and know how to hide their symptoms well. Although Dr. Seaman’s wife, Linda Seaman, MD, was aware of her husband’s suicidality, when he eventually determined that he was going to end his life, he apparently did not reveal his more serious intention to her. Aside from spouses and family, determined suicide completers often hide their intentions from their clinicians.⁷
 

Attempt to obtain collateral information

By being aware of the usual and less-usual risk factors for suicide that our physician colleagues may present with as explained above, we can use strategies for mitigating risk. If secrecy because of shame and embarrassment prevents our physician patient from being fully candid, include the spouse or another significant family member in sessions. While the physician might hide his suicidal intent from both the clinician and spouse, it remains prudent to include the spouse in the treatment plan. Give the spouse a telephone number with which they can contact you if they notice any worrisome change in functioning or behavior. Collateral information often is helpful. (Example: Is the patient not eating, not sleeping, or giving away valued possessions?)
 

Assess for competency

In Dr. Seaman’s case, it was noted that, with a trial approaching, Dr. Seaman had written in a journal entry that he could not mentally endure a trial. “For me, the stress is overwhelming.” Such a patient, suffering from severe depression, often is unable to properly assist his attorney in his defense. The outpatient psychiatrist can notify the court or one of the attorneys that the competency of the physician patient is questionable (or express a definite opinion of incompetency), and offer the opinion that it would be best to postpone further legal action until the patient is in a more healthy state of mind.
 

Know when hospitalization is needed

Obviously, the process will go smoother if the admission is voluntary. If the patient physician resists and the psychiatrist believes that the risk for self-harm is too high for the physician patient to remain as an outpatient, try to get a spouse or family member to persuade him to be admitted. An involuntary admission opens up a whole new can of worms and may fracture the therapeutic alliance.

In the end, it might be better to take that risk rather than having a dead patient on your hands. If a hospitalization is necessary, contact the admitting psychiatrist and verbally express your concerns and the reasons why a hospitalization is needed. Ask the inpatient psychiatrist to contact you when a discharge is approaching so that you have an opportunity to ask relevant questions.

For example, during his second psychiatric admission, as the time for discharge was approaching, Dr. Seaman wrote: “I am not well enough for discharge. I am still mentally ill.” Ask the inpatient doctor whether the patient has gotten sufficiently better and he feels confident he can function as an outpatient. If there is a conflicting opinion about the readiness of the patient for discharge, notify the medical director of the service or an administrator about your concerns.
 

Ask for consultation

At any stage of the process consider getting consultation for a trusted colleague or senior clinician if you are failing to make progress. Sometimes it helps to get the perspective from a fresh pair of eyes or ears.

Get a reality check

Having recounted the inspiring story of Dr. Nuland’s magnificent efforts and joyous success in preserving a life that was on the verge of being lost in the battle against death at the last possible second, I would note the following: Surgeons will tell you that, despite their most heroic efforts and teamwork, there are times when luck runs out and the patient dies on the operating table. Also, small lapses, which all mortals are prone to despite their best efforts at conscientiousness, sometimes can lead to a bad outcome.

Similarly, in psychiatry, no matter how much effort we put into saving a life, sometimes it is all to no avail. Despite all we have learned about suicide and its risk factors, and no matter how much care we take to contain risk, our patients who are determined will find a way of ending their own lives. The vexing problem of suicide seems intractable. A suicide among our patients humbles us, but also hopefully inspires us to keep trying harder to step up to the plate of accountability.

In conclusion, for us physicians, accountability is not a facet, a trait, or even a pursuit, accountability is at the core of who are and how we define ourselves. Accountability is the reason we leap stairs three at time when we are urgently paged. Accountability is the reason malpractice lawsuits cut at the core of our self-image. Accountability allows us to always have hope for a positive outcome, despite overwhelming barriers, and gives our lives a sense of purpose.

For me, in preparing this article, accountability was reviewing and studying physician suicide and then applying best practices in risk assessment after reading the tragic story of Dr. Seaman. I hope I inspire you to do the same in the pursuit of helping our vulnerable patients.

Learning how to care for our complex patients is a never-ending journey.
 

References

1. Gold KJ. Gen Hosp Psychiatry. 2013 Jan;35(1):45-9.

2. Etkind M. ...Or Not to Be: A Collection of Suicide Notes. New York: Riverhead Books, 1997.

3. Lamia LC. Shame: A concealed, contagious, and dangerous emotion. Psychology Today. 2011 Apr 4.

4. Joiner TE. Why People Die by Suicide. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005.

5. Myers MF. Why Physicians Die by Suicide. 2017.

6. National Institutes of Health. Suicide Prevention. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/suicide-prevention/index.shtml.

7. Levy AG et al. JAMA Netw Open. 2019 Aug 14. doi: 10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2019.9277.
 

Dr. Kausch is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist who is on the faculty at Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, as an assistant clinical professor. He spends most of his time seeing patients through the Akron General/Cleveland Clinic health system. He has published in the area of forensic psychiatry, addictions, pathological gambling, and suicide. He has recently taken an interest in conducting marital therapy and is now publishing in that area as well.

Recently, Nicolas Badre, MD, challenged psychiatrists who care for patients involved in the legal system. He encouraged “a resurgence of personal accountability and responsibility.”

Using the chronically disenfranchised patients who are repetitiously shuttled between jails and mental hospitals as examples, he pointed out that we psychiatrists must “step up to the plate” and approach clinical problems with the attitude that “the buck stops with me.” As Dr. Badre pointed out, this is especially true when dealing with large, complex systems in which fragmented care exists without clear leadership. This, in turn, allows for a dissolution of accountability.

Accountability is a natural continuation of our training as physicians. We all remember the transition from medical student to intern, the steep learning curve as well as growth and maturation during this changeover. A dramatic transformation occurs over the course of 1 year, from medical students who tag along learning from patients to interns expected to be on their own for endless hours.

Over the course of those hours, we came to the understanding that people’s lives were in our hands. This causes a shift in our identity. This process continues throughout residency and onward in our careers. At some point, it becomes part of our innate identity as physicians or our professional sense of self – which is hard to describe to nonphysicians.

A profound example of a sense of accountability within the medical profession can be found in “How We Live,” a book by National Book Award winner Sherwin B. Nuland, MD. In the book, the late Dr. Nuland recounted how, as a 49-year-old seasoned surgeon working at Yale University, New Haven, Conn., and casually rounding on patients, he heard a frantic message: “Any general surgeon! Any general surgeon! Go immediately to the operating room – immediately – any general surgeon!”

The case involved a 42-year-old wife and mother who had been rushed to the ED after having been found in the community in a profound state of shock. In the ED, it was suspected that the patient was bleeding heavily from a ruptured tubal pregnancy. She was sped rapidly to the operating room with an undetectable blood pressure and a barely palpable pulse. The on-call ob.gyn. had been summoned from home, and he rushed to the operating room along with his department chairman.

Because the woman had lost much of her blood supply, there was no time for crossmatching. The anesthesiologist had placed large-bore intravenous lines and transfused her with O-negative blood (the universal donor blood type) to try maintain some level of blood pressure. Before she could be even fully anesthetized, the ob.gyn had made an incision in her lower abdomen. The bleeding he encountered was profound.

After a quick evaluation, the ob.gyn. realized that the blood was coming from above, not below, leading to the emergency page that Dr. Nuland heard. Dr. Nuland described bounding up the stairs three at a time. He recalled: “[A] very real apprehension had entered my mind. I might encounter a situation that was beyond me, something that I might make even worse, something that would cause me to regret for the rest of my life that I had answered the page’s insistent call instead of simply turning my back on its urgency and slinking off to my car before anyone noticed I was there.”

However, he could not see himself doing such a thing and he rushed up to the operating room because, “walking away from that kind of cry for help would have violated every precept taught me by my life and my training, and every bit of moral sense I had. … . I bear an obsessive preoccupation with accepting responsibility, amounting really to a compulsively neurotic sense of duty.”

And yet in the next few seconds, as he was running to the operating room, he wondered: “Am I about to botch something up? Will I, in one quick stroke of ineptness and fate, bring my career crashing down around my feet and with it my sense of what I am? Am I on my way to destroy an unknown patient and myself at the same time?”

In Dr. Nuland’s thoughts lie the conundrum of responsibility for physicians. Thankfully for Dr. Nuland, he was able to save the day and diagnose a rare case of rupture of an aneurysm of the splenic artery and keep the patient alive. This dramatic story involved a surgical colleague who had to make split-second decisions while a patient’s life hanged in the balance, but the same principles apply to us as psychiatrists.

Sadly, like a ruptured splenic artery, depression and other mental illnesses can end lives in vulnerable patients facing overwhelming life crises. I would note that, in the above example of the surgical patient, the “system” for saving the woman’s life was well organized and resourced to allow for a comprehensive and time-limited intervention into a life-threatening situation. There was an operating room staffed by various professionals who all had a defined role. It required the leader, Dr. Nuland, to step in, make the right diagnosis, and then issue commands to the identified professionals who all recognized his leadership and were skilled in carrying out their assigned duties. Dr. Nuland clearly was the leader once he took charge.

An outpatient psychiatrist facing a suicidal patient must deal with a different set of challenges, often involving various complex systems as well as multiple barriers. Clinical barriers include available interdisciplinary resources/personnel to assist not only with the critical encounter, but also with extended evaluation and treatment in a secure, well-resourced environment. Administrative barriers can include justifying the optimal treatment plan to payors. Our lethal patients often require both outpatient and inpatient services with sometimes-conflicting agendas. In a recent article, I pointed out some of the vexing problems that arise when communication and collaboration are poor between inpatient and outpatient psychiatrists. In such complex environments, it is less clear what is involved in the outpatient psychiatrist stepping up to the plate and asserting leadership.

An emotionally wrenching article about an emergency physician, Matthew E. Seaman, MD, who died by suicide, reminds us of the potential for suicide in a complicated patient (in this case, a medical colleague) involving complex systems. Plagued by a review of his care by the medical board (they had forced him to surrender his medical license and allowed the allegations to go public in lieu of further disciplinary proceedings), a subsequent lawsuit and an ultimate attempt by the plaintiff to obtain Dr. Seaman’s personal assets led to his worsening mental health. According to his wife, also a physician, he was getting “more depressed by the insults and assaults on his integrity and professionalism.”

Just before the investigation, he had received a 30-year pin from the American Board of Emergency Medicine for his “dedication to the specialty.” He fell into a deep depression from which he could not recover despite several psychiatric admissions and several medication trials. Along with his depression, he suffered from severe anxiety, a known risk factor for suicide. Dr. Seaman was feeling overwhelmed by the lengthy legal process targeting him as being negligent. He begged his attorney to settle the case, but his insurance carrier would not allow it. According to his wife: “All sense of human worth had been beaten out of him.”

Dr. Seaman had been known as resilient. He could handle complex ED situations, including simultaneously dealing with multiple traumas. He previously had been named in three malpractice lawsuits and had prevailed in each one. But his resilience had greatly diminished, and he became overwhelmed. He previously had, as a physician, been able to step up to the plate of accountability. But now, because of a confluence of depression and anxiety as well as the “insults and assaults on his integrity and professionalism,” he found life to be unbearable with the resulting tragic end.

So how would we as psychiatrists step up to the plate and be accountable when faced with a struggling fellow physician at risk for suicide such as Dr. Seaman?

Be aware of relevant risk factors

In addition to being aware of the usual risk factors for suicide, it would behoove us to also understand how physician suicides differ from suicides among nonphysicians.¹ For example, physicians who have died by suicide were far more likely to have experienced job-related problems than nonphysicians, but less likely to have experienced the recent death of a loved one. Also noteworthy is that physicians who end their lives were more often married. In addition, Michael F. Myers, MD, a psychiatrist who has studied physician suicides, noted in the article about Dr. Seaman that struggling physicians are likely to suffer from shame and embarrassment.
 

Consider shame, burdensomeness, and secrecy

When suicide risk factors are taught to students and professionals, rarely is shame mentioned. Perhaps it is not a common risk factor in the general population, but shame and its cousin, disgrace, are known risk factors that likely apply more to people – such as physicians – who have built a reputation over their careers. One whole chapter is given to disgrace suicides in a book about suicide notes.² A reputation often is one of the most important factors for professionals, which creates their sense of identity and, by extension, a sense of purpose in life.

When a doctor perceives that his or her reputation is being destroyed, it can produce a profound sense of shame, one of the most powerful of negative emotions.³ Another feature among completed suicides that applies more generally is perceived burdensomeness, according to Thomas E. Joiner Jr., PhD, one of the deep and innovative researchers in the field of suicidology.⁴ Once a doctor starts feeling that he has been a failure in his professional life and starts ruminating about it, the feelings of failure may generalize to other areas of his life, so that he starts feeling that he is a burden to his spouse. This, then, only increases his shame.

The issue of secrecy also is noteworthy. I was struck reading a book by Dr. Myers on physician suicide by the many spouses and family members who were caught completely unaware of problems when their spouse, a doctor, ended their lives by suicide.⁵ The doctors hid their problems well, perhaps not wanting to burden their family members. Also, if feelings of shame are an issue, then concealment tends to occur. This concealment of suicidality runs counter to the current narrative among some in the professional community that suicides are preventable (this despite the continuing increase in rates of suicide at the same time that there are increases in mental health services and suicide prevention programs).⁶

As pointed out in some of the letters quoted in Dr. Myers’s book, those who completed suicide are smart and know how to hide their symptoms well. Although Dr. Seaman’s wife, Linda Seaman, MD, was aware of her husband’s suicidality, when he eventually determined that he was going to end his life, he apparently did not reveal his more serious intention to her. Aside from spouses and family, determined suicide completers often hide their intentions from their clinicians.⁷
 

Attempt to obtain collateral information

By being aware of the usual and less-usual risk factors for suicide that our physician colleagues may present with as explained above, we can use strategies for mitigating risk. If secrecy because of shame and embarrassment prevents our physician patient from being fully candid, include the spouse or another significant family member in sessions. While the physician might hide his suicidal intent from both the clinician and spouse, it remains prudent to include the spouse in the treatment plan. Give the spouse a telephone number with which they can contact you if they notice any worrisome change in functioning or behavior. Collateral information often is helpful. (Example: Is the patient not eating, not sleeping, or giving away valued possessions?)
 

Assess for competency

In Dr. Seaman’s case, it was noted that, with a trial approaching, Dr. Seaman had written in a journal entry that he could not mentally endure a trial. “For me, the stress is overwhelming.” Such a patient, suffering from severe depression, often is unable to properly assist his attorney in his defense. The outpatient psychiatrist can notify the court or one of the attorneys that the competency of the physician patient is questionable (or express a definite opinion of incompetency), and offer the opinion that it would be best to postpone further legal action until the patient is in a more healthy state of mind.
 

Know when hospitalization is needed

Obviously, the process will go smoother if the admission is voluntary. If the patient physician resists and the psychiatrist believes that the risk for self-harm is too high for the physician patient to remain as an outpatient, try to get a spouse or family member to persuade him to be admitted. An involuntary admission opens up a whole new can of worms and may fracture the therapeutic alliance.

In the end, it might be better to take that risk rather than having a dead patient on your hands. If a hospitalization is necessary, contact the admitting psychiatrist and verbally express your concerns and the reasons why a hospitalization is needed. Ask the inpatient psychiatrist to contact you when a discharge is approaching so that you have an opportunity to ask relevant questions.

For example, during his second psychiatric admission, as the time for discharge was approaching, Dr. Seaman wrote: “I am not well enough for discharge. I am still mentally ill.” Ask the inpatient doctor whether the patient has gotten sufficiently better and he feels confident he can function as an outpatient. If there is a conflicting opinion about the readiness of the patient for discharge, notify the medical director of the service or an administrator about your concerns.
 

Ask for consultation

At any stage of the process consider getting consultation for a trusted colleague or senior clinician if you are failing to make progress. Sometimes it helps to get the perspective from a fresh pair of eyes or ears.

Get a reality check

Having recounted the inspiring story of Dr. Nuland’s magnificent efforts and joyous success in preserving a life that was on the verge of being lost in the battle against death at the last possible second, I would note the following: Surgeons will tell you that, despite their most heroic efforts and teamwork, there are times when luck runs out and the patient dies on the operating table. Also, small lapses, which all mortals are prone to despite their best efforts at conscientiousness, sometimes can lead to a bad outcome.

Similarly, in psychiatry, no matter how much effort we put into saving a life, sometimes it is all to no avail. Despite all we have learned about suicide and its risk factors, and no matter how much care we take to contain risk, our patients who are determined will find a way of ending their own lives. The vexing problem of suicide seems intractable. A suicide among our patients humbles us, but also hopefully inspires us to keep trying harder to step up to the plate of accountability.

In conclusion, for us physicians, accountability is not a facet, a trait, or even a pursuit, accountability is at the core of who are and how we define ourselves. Accountability is the reason we leap stairs three at time when we are urgently paged. Accountability is the reason malpractice lawsuits cut at the core of our self-image. Accountability allows us to always have hope for a positive outcome, despite overwhelming barriers, and gives our lives a sense of purpose.

For me, in preparing this article, accountability was reviewing and studying physician suicide and then applying best practices in risk assessment after reading the tragic story of Dr. Seaman. I hope I inspire you to do the same in the pursuit of helping our vulnerable patients.

Learning how to care for our complex patients is a never-ending journey.
 

References

1. Gold KJ. Gen Hosp Psychiatry. 2013 Jan;35(1):45-9.

2. Etkind M. ...Or Not to Be: A Collection of Suicide Notes. New York: Riverhead Books, 1997.

3. Lamia LC. Shame: A concealed, contagious, and dangerous emotion. Psychology Today. 2011 Apr 4.

4. Joiner TE. Why People Die by Suicide. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005.

5. Myers MF. Why Physicians Die by Suicide. 2017.

6. National Institutes of Health. Suicide Prevention. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/suicide-prevention/index.shtml.

7. Levy AG et al. JAMA Netw Open. 2019 Aug 14. doi: 10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2019.9277.
 

Dr. Kausch is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist who is on the faculty at Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, as an assistant clinical professor. He spends most of his time seeing patients through the Akron General/Cleveland Clinic health system. He has published in the area of forensic psychiatry, addictions, pathological gambling, and suicide. He has recently taken an interest in conducting marital therapy and is now publishing in that area as well.

Recently, Nicolas Badre, MD, challenged psychiatrists who care for patients involved in the legal system. He encouraged “a resurgence of personal accountability and responsibility.”

Using the chronically disenfranchised patients who are repetitiously shuttled between jails and mental hospitals as examples, he pointed out that we psychiatrists must “step up to the plate” and approach clinical problems with the attitude that “the buck stops with me.” As Dr. Badre pointed out, this is especially true when dealing with large, complex systems in which fragmented care exists without clear leadership. This, in turn, allows for a dissolution of accountability.

Accountability is a natural continuation of our training as physicians. We all remember the transition from medical student to intern, the steep learning curve as well as growth and maturation during this changeover. A dramatic transformation occurs over the course of 1 year, from medical students who tag along learning from patients to interns expected to be on their own for endless hours.

Over the course of those hours, we came to the understanding that people’s lives were in our hands. This causes a shift in our identity. This process continues throughout residency and onward in our careers. At some point, it becomes part of our innate identity as physicians or our professional sense of self – which is hard to describe to nonphysicians.

A profound example of a sense of accountability within the medical profession can be found in “How We Live,” a book by National Book Award winner Sherwin B. Nuland, MD. In the book, the late Dr. Nuland recounted how, as a 49-year-old seasoned surgeon working at Yale University, New Haven, Conn., and casually rounding on patients, he heard a frantic message: “Any general surgeon! Any general surgeon! Go immediately to the operating room – immediately – any general surgeon!”

The case involved a 42-year-old wife and mother who had been rushed to the ED after having been found in the community in a profound state of shock. In the ED, it was suspected that the patient was bleeding heavily from a ruptured tubal pregnancy. She was sped rapidly to the operating room with an undetectable blood pressure and a barely palpable pulse. The on-call ob.gyn. had been summoned from home, and he rushed to the operating room along with his department chairman.

Because the woman had lost much of her blood supply, there was no time for crossmatching. The anesthesiologist had placed large-bore intravenous lines and transfused her with O-negative blood (the universal donor blood type) to try maintain some level of blood pressure. Before she could be even fully anesthetized, the ob.gyn had made an incision in her lower abdomen. The bleeding he encountered was profound.

After a quick evaluation, the ob.gyn. realized that the blood was coming from above, not below, leading to the emergency page that Dr. Nuland heard. Dr. Nuland described bounding up the stairs three at a time. He recalled: “[A] very real apprehension had entered my mind. I might encounter a situation that was beyond me, something that I might make even worse, something that would cause me to regret for the rest of my life that I had answered the page’s insistent call instead of simply turning my back on its urgency and slinking off to my car before anyone noticed I was there.”

However, he could not see himself doing such a thing and he rushed up to the operating room because, “walking away from that kind of cry for help would have violated every precept taught me by my life and my training, and every bit of moral sense I had. … . I bear an obsessive preoccupation with accepting responsibility, amounting really to a compulsively neurotic sense of duty.”

And yet in the next few seconds, as he was running to the operating room, he wondered: “Am I about to botch something up? Will I, in one quick stroke of ineptness and fate, bring my career crashing down around my feet and with it my sense of what I am? Am I on my way to destroy an unknown patient and myself at the same time?”

In Dr. Nuland’s thoughts lie the conundrum of responsibility for physicians. Thankfully for Dr. Nuland, he was able to save the day and diagnose a rare case of rupture of an aneurysm of the splenic artery and keep the patient alive. This dramatic story involved a surgical colleague who had to make split-second decisions while a patient’s life hanged in the balance, but the same principles apply to us as psychiatrists.

Sadly, like a ruptured splenic artery, depression and other mental illnesses can end lives in vulnerable patients facing overwhelming life crises. I would note that, in the above example of the surgical patient, the “system” for saving the woman’s life was well organized and resourced to allow for a comprehensive and time-limited intervention into a life-threatening situation. There was an operating room staffed by various professionals who all had a defined role. It required the leader, Dr. Nuland, to step in, make the right diagnosis, and then issue commands to the identified professionals who all recognized his leadership and were skilled in carrying out their assigned duties. Dr. Nuland clearly was the leader once he took charge.

An outpatient psychiatrist facing a suicidal patient must deal with a different set of challenges, often involving various complex systems as well as multiple barriers. Clinical barriers include available interdisciplinary resources/personnel to assist not only with the critical encounter, but also with extended evaluation and treatment in a secure, well-resourced environment. Administrative barriers can include justifying the optimal treatment plan to payors. Our lethal patients often require both outpatient and inpatient services with sometimes-conflicting agendas. In a recent article, I pointed out some of the vexing problems that arise when communication and collaboration are poor between inpatient and outpatient psychiatrists. In such complex environments, it is less clear what is involved in the outpatient psychiatrist stepping up to the plate and asserting leadership.

An emotionally wrenching article about an emergency physician, Matthew E. Seaman, MD, who died by suicide, reminds us of the potential for suicide in a complicated patient (in this case, a medical colleague) involving complex systems. Plagued by a review of his care by the medical board (they had forced him to surrender his medical license and allowed the allegations to go public in lieu of further disciplinary proceedings), a subsequent lawsuit and an ultimate attempt by the plaintiff to obtain Dr. Seaman’s personal assets led to his worsening mental health. According to his wife, also a physician, he was getting “more depressed by the insults and assaults on his integrity and professionalism.”

Just before the investigation, he had received a 30-year pin from the American Board of Emergency Medicine for his “dedication to the specialty.” He fell into a deep depression from which he could not recover despite several psychiatric admissions and several medication trials. Along with his depression, he suffered from severe anxiety, a known risk factor for suicide. Dr. Seaman was feeling overwhelmed by the lengthy legal process targeting him as being negligent. He begged his attorney to settle the case, but his insurance carrier would not allow it. According to his wife: “All sense of human worth had been beaten out of him.”

Dr. Seaman had been known as resilient. He could handle complex ED situations, including simultaneously dealing with multiple traumas. He previously had been named in three malpractice lawsuits and had prevailed in each one. But his resilience had greatly diminished, and he became overwhelmed. He previously had, as a physician, been able to step up to the plate of accountability. But now, because of a confluence of depression and anxiety as well as the “insults and assaults on his integrity and professionalism,” he found life to be unbearable with the resulting tragic end.

So how would we as psychiatrists step up to the plate and be accountable when faced with a struggling fellow physician at risk for suicide such as Dr. Seaman?

Be aware of relevant risk factors

In addition to being aware of the usual risk factors for suicide, it would behoove us to also understand how physician suicides differ from suicides among nonphysicians.¹ For example, physicians who have died by suicide were far more likely to have experienced job-related problems than nonphysicians, but less likely to have experienced the recent death of a loved one. Also noteworthy is that physicians who end their lives were more often married. In addition, Michael F. Myers, MD, a psychiatrist who has studied physician suicides, noted in the article about Dr. Seaman that struggling physicians are likely to suffer from shame and embarrassment.
 

Consider shame, burdensomeness, and secrecy

When suicide risk factors are taught to students and professionals, rarely is shame mentioned. Perhaps it is not a common risk factor in the general population, but shame and its cousin, disgrace, are known risk factors that likely apply more to people – such as physicians – who have built a reputation over their careers. One whole chapter is given to disgrace suicides in a book about suicide notes.² A reputation often is one of the most important factors for professionals, which creates their sense of identity and, by extension, a sense of purpose in life.

When a doctor perceives that his or her reputation is being destroyed, it can produce a profound sense of shame, one of the most powerful of negative emotions.³ Another feature among completed suicides that applies more generally is perceived burdensomeness, according to Thomas E. Joiner Jr., PhD, one of the deep and innovative researchers in the field of suicidology.⁴ Once a doctor starts feeling that he has been a failure in his professional life and starts ruminating about it, the feelings of failure may generalize to other areas of his life, so that he starts feeling that he is a burden to his spouse. This, then, only increases his shame.

The issue of secrecy also is noteworthy. I was struck reading a book by Dr. Myers on physician suicide by the many spouses and family members who were caught completely unaware of problems when their spouse, a doctor, ended their lives by suicide.⁵ The doctors hid their problems well, perhaps not wanting to burden their family members. Also, if feelings of shame are an issue, then concealment tends to occur. This concealment of suicidality runs counter to the current narrative among some in the professional community that suicides are preventable (this despite the continuing increase in rates of suicide at the same time that there are increases in mental health services and suicide prevention programs).⁶

As pointed out in some of the letters quoted in Dr. Myers’s book, those who completed suicide are smart and know how to hide their symptoms well. Although Dr. Seaman’s wife, Linda Seaman, MD, was aware of her husband’s suicidality, when he eventually determined that he was going to end his life, he apparently did not reveal his more serious intention to her. Aside from spouses and family, determined suicide completers often hide their intentions from their clinicians.⁷
 

Attempt to obtain collateral information

By being aware of the usual and less-usual risk factors for suicide that our physician colleagues may present with as explained above, we can use strategies for mitigating risk. If secrecy because of shame and embarrassment prevents our physician patient from being fully candid, include the spouse or another significant family member in sessions. While the physician might hide his suicidal intent from both the clinician and spouse, it remains prudent to include the spouse in the treatment plan. Give the spouse a telephone number with which they can contact you if they notice any worrisome change in functioning or behavior. Collateral information often is helpful. (Example: Is the patient not eating, not sleeping, or giving away valued possessions?)
 

Assess for competency

In Dr. Seaman’s case, it was noted that, with a trial approaching, Dr. Seaman had written in a journal entry that he could not mentally endure a trial. “For me, the stress is overwhelming.” Such a patient, suffering from severe depression, often is unable to properly assist his attorney in his defense. The outpatient psychiatrist can notify the court or one of the attorneys that the competency of the physician patient is questionable (or express a definite opinion of incompetency), and offer the opinion that it would be best to postpone further legal action until the patient is in a more healthy state of mind.
 

Know when hospitalization is needed

Obviously, the process will go smoother if the admission is voluntary. If the patient physician resists and the psychiatrist believes that the risk for self-harm is too high for the physician patient to remain as an outpatient, try to get a spouse or family member to persuade him to be admitted. An involuntary admission opens up a whole new can of worms and may fracture the therapeutic alliance.

In the end, it might be better to take that risk rather than having a dead patient on your hands. If a hospitalization is necessary, contact the admitting psychiatrist and verbally express your concerns and the reasons why a hospitalization is needed. Ask the inpatient psychiatrist to contact you when a discharge is approaching so that you have an opportunity to ask relevant questions.

For example, during his second psychiatric admission, as the time for discharge was approaching, Dr. Seaman wrote: “I am not well enough for discharge. I am still mentally ill.” Ask the inpatient doctor whether the patient has gotten sufficiently better and he feels confident he can function as an outpatient. If there is a conflicting opinion about the readiness of the patient for discharge, notify the medical director of the service or an administrator about your concerns.
 

Ask for consultation

At any stage of the process consider getting consultation for a trusted colleague or senior clinician if you are failing to make progress. Sometimes it helps to get the perspective from a fresh pair of eyes or ears.

Get a reality check

Having recounted the inspiring story of Dr. Nuland’s magnificent efforts and joyous success in preserving a life that was on the verge of being lost in the battle against death at the last possible second, I would note the following: Surgeons will tell you that, despite their most heroic efforts and teamwork, there are times when luck runs out and the patient dies on the operating table. Also, small lapses, which all mortals are prone to despite their best efforts at conscientiousness, sometimes can lead to a bad outcome.

Similarly, in psychiatry, no matter how much effort we put into saving a life, sometimes it is all to no avail. Despite all we have learned about suicide and its risk factors, and no matter how much care we take to contain risk, our patients who are determined will find a way of ending their own lives. The vexing problem of suicide seems intractable. A suicide among our patients humbles us, but also hopefully inspires us to keep trying harder to step up to the plate of accountability.

In conclusion, for us physicians, accountability is not a facet, a trait, or even a pursuit, accountability is at the core of who are and how we define ourselves. Accountability is the reason we leap stairs three at time when we are urgently paged. Accountability is the reason malpractice lawsuits cut at the core of our self-image. Accountability allows us to always have hope for a positive outcome, despite overwhelming barriers, and gives our lives a sense of purpose.

For me, in preparing this article, accountability was reviewing and studying physician suicide and then applying best practices in risk assessment after reading the tragic story of Dr. Seaman. I hope I inspire you to do the same in the pursuit of helping our vulnerable patients.

Learning how to care for our complex patients is a never-ending journey.
 

References

1. Gold KJ. Gen Hosp Psychiatry. 2013 Jan;35(1):45-9.

2. Etkind M. ...Or Not to Be: A Collection of Suicide Notes. New York: Riverhead Books, 1997.

3. Lamia LC. Shame: A concealed, contagious, and dangerous emotion. Psychology Today. 2011 Apr 4.

4. Joiner TE. Why People Die by Suicide. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005.

5. Myers MF. Why Physicians Die by Suicide. 2017.

6. National Institutes of Health. Suicide Prevention. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/suicide-prevention/index.shtml.

7. Levy AG et al. JAMA Netw Open. 2019 Aug 14. doi: 10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2019.9277.
 

Dr. Kausch is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist who is on the faculty at Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, as an assistant clinical professor. He spends most of his time seeing patients through the Akron General/Cleveland Clinic health system. He has published in the area of forensic psychiatry, addictions, pathological gambling, and suicide. He has recently taken an interest in conducting marital therapy and is now publishing in that area as well.

Officials at the Food and Drug Administration’s Center for Drug Evaluation and Research are taking the precautionary step of canceling or postponing advisory committee meetings and limiting staff travel in an effort to help curb the spread of the COVID-19.

Wikimedia Commons/FitzColinGerald/ Creative Commons License

“The outbreak of respiratory illness caused by a novel coronavirus, COVID-19, that started in China is spreading to other countries, including the United States,” CDER Director Janet Woodcock, MD, said in a memo to CDER staff. “As a precaution, FDA is canceling foreign official agency travel and limiting domestic travel to mission critical only, effective immediately and through April.”

Additionally, the memo notes that “CDER-organized external meetings, conferences, and workshops will be postponed or canceled from March 10 through April.”

“To mitigate the impact on our work, I encourage you to hold meetings with external stakeholders through teleconference, when possible,” she wrote.

Thus far, only a few CDER events on the FDA’s meeting webpage are listed as being canceled or postponed. Some of the affected meetings include a March 10 public meeting on patient-focused drug development for stimulant-use disorder, a March 11 meeting of the Nonprescription Drug Advisory Committee, and a March 30 public meeting on patient-focused drug development for vitiligo, all of which are postponed until further notice. The Center for Biologics Evaluation and Research also has postponed until further notice its U.S.–Japan Cellular and Gene Therapy Conference, originally scheduled for March 12.

Dr. Woodcock also noted in the memo that in relation to inspections, “we plan to use technology and established agreements with our foreign counterparts to minimize disruptions to the drug supply chain and to applications under review, so that Americans can continue to get their medications.”

[email protected]

Officials at the Food and Drug Administration’s Center for Drug Evaluation and Research are taking the precautionary step of canceling or postponing advisory committee meetings and limiting staff travel in an effort to help curb the spread of the COVID-19.

Wikimedia Commons/FitzColinGerald/ Creative Commons License

“The outbreak of respiratory illness caused by a novel coronavirus, COVID-19, that started in China is spreading to other countries, including the United States,” CDER Director Janet Woodcock, MD, said in a memo to CDER staff. “As a precaution, FDA is canceling foreign official agency travel and limiting domestic travel to mission critical only, effective immediately and through April.”

Additionally, the memo notes that “CDER-organized external meetings, conferences, and workshops will be postponed or canceled from March 10 through April.”

“To mitigate the impact on our work, I encourage you to hold meetings with external stakeholders through teleconference, when possible,” she wrote.

Thus far, only a few CDER events on the FDA’s meeting webpage are listed as being canceled or postponed. Some of the affected meetings include a March 10 public meeting on patient-focused drug development for stimulant-use disorder, a March 11 meeting of the Nonprescription Drug Advisory Committee, and a March 30 public meeting on patient-focused drug development for vitiligo, all of which are postponed until further notice. The Center for Biologics Evaluation and Research also has postponed until further notice its U.S.–Japan Cellular and Gene Therapy Conference, originally scheduled for March 12.

Dr. Woodcock also noted in the memo that in relation to inspections, “we plan to use technology and established agreements with our foreign counterparts to minimize disruptions to the drug supply chain and to applications under review, so that Americans can continue to get their medications.”

[email protected]

Officials at the Food and Drug Administration’s Center for Drug Evaluation and Research are taking the precautionary step of canceling or postponing advisory committee meetings and limiting staff travel in an effort to help curb the spread of the COVID-19.

Wikimedia Commons/FitzColinGerald/ Creative Commons License

“The outbreak of respiratory illness caused by a novel coronavirus, COVID-19, that started in China is spreading to other countries, including the United States,” CDER Director Janet Woodcock, MD, said in a memo to CDER staff. “As a precaution, FDA is canceling foreign official agency travel and limiting domestic travel to mission critical only, effective immediately and through April.”

Additionally, the memo notes that “CDER-organized external meetings, conferences, and workshops will be postponed or canceled from March 10 through April.”

“To mitigate the impact on our work, I encourage you to hold meetings with external stakeholders through teleconference, when possible,” she wrote.

Thus far, only a few CDER events on the FDA’s meeting webpage are listed as being canceled or postponed. Some of the affected meetings include a March 10 public meeting on patient-focused drug development for stimulant-use disorder, a March 11 meeting of the Nonprescription Drug Advisory Committee, and a March 30 public meeting on patient-focused drug development for vitiligo, all of which are postponed until further notice. The Center for Biologics Evaluation and Research also has postponed until further notice its U.S.–Japan Cellular and Gene Therapy Conference, originally scheduled for March 12.

Dr. Woodcock also noted in the memo that in relation to inspections, “we plan to use technology and established agreements with our foreign counterparts to minimize disruptions to the drug supply chain and to applications under review, so that Americans can continue to get their medications.”

[email protected]

Coronavirus fever is gripping the world. What I hope to do here is open a discussion of what psychiatrists and other clinicians can do to mitigate the psychological consequences of COVID-19. I am focusing on the right now.

The psychological consequences are fear of the disease, effects of possible quarantine, and the potential effects of the economic slowdown on the world economy.

Fear of the disease is gripping the nation. With invisible diseases, that is not irrational. If you do not know whether you are exposed and/or spreading it to coworkers, children, or aged parents, then the fear of contagion is logical. So I would not “poo-poo” the “worried well.” If you do not know whether you are exposed or contagious, anxiety is a legitimate concern – especially if you have parents in nursing homes.

The quarantine issue is harder. I have long thought that quarantine would be harder to implement in the United States than in nations like China. But self or home quarantine is currently the de facto solution for those who have been exposed. What are some remedies?

For everybody, having an adequate supply of basic supplies at home is essential. As in preparing for a snowstorm or hurricane, adequate food, water, and yes, toilet paper, is important to relieve anxiety.

Psychiatrists can encourage patients to have an adequate supply of their medications. That may mean that we prescribe more pills. If the patient has suicidal tendencies, we can ask other family members to safeguard those medications.

A salient question is how likely people who are addicted to alcohol or opiates are to stay in place if they are withdrawing. In previous presentations, delivered some 20 years ago, I have (facetiously) suggested horse-drawn wagons of beer to avoid people breaking quarantine in search of the substances they are physically dependent on.

For people in methadone clinics who require daily visits that kind of approach may be harder. I do not have a solution, other than to plan for the eventuality of large-scale withdrawal and the behavioral consequences, which, unfortunately, often involve crime. Telemedicine may be a solution, but we are not yet equipped for it.

The longer-term psychological impacts of a major economic slowdown are not yet known. Based on past epidemics and other disasters, they might include unemployment and the related consequences of domestic violence and suicide.

COVID-19 is spreading fast. As clinicians, we must take steps to protect ourselves and our patients. Because this is a new virus, we have a lot to learn about it. We must be agile, because our actions will need to change over time.

Dr. Ritchie is chair of psychiatry at Medstar Washington Hospital Center and professor of psychiatry at Georgetown University, Washington.

Coronavirus fever is gripping the world. What I hope to do here is open a discussion of what psychiatrists and other clinicians can do to mitigate the psychological consequences of COVID-19. I am focusing on the right now.

The psychological consequences are fear of the disease, effects of possible quarantine, and the potential effects of the economic slowdown on the world economy.

Fear of the disease is gripping the nation. With invisible diseases, that is not irrational. If you do not know whether you are exposed and/or spreading it to coworkers, children, or aged parents, then the fear of contagion is logical. So I would not “poo-poo” the “worried well.” If you do not know whether you are exposed or contagious, anxiety is a legitimate concern – especially if you have parents in nursing homes.

The quarantine issue is harder. I have long thought that quarantine would be harder to implement in the United States than in nations like China. But self or home quarantine is currently the de facto solution for those who have been exposed. What are some remedies?

For everybody, having an adequate supply of basic supplies at home is essential. As in preparing for a snowstorm or hurricane, adequate food, water, and yes, toilet paper, is important to relieve anxiety.

Psychiatrists can encourage patients to have an adequate supply of their medications. That may mean that we prescribe more pills. If the patient has suicidal tendencies, we can ask other family members to safeguard those medications.

A salient question is how likely people who are addicted to alcohol or opiates are to stay in place if they are withdrawing. In previous presentations, delivered some 20 years ago, I have (facetiously) suggested horse-drawn wagons of beer to avoid people breaking quarantine in search of the substances they are physically dependent on.

For people in methadone clinics who require daily visits that kind of approach may be harder. I do not have a solution, other than to plan for the eventuality of large-scale withdrawal and the behavioral consequences, which, unfortunately, often involve crime. Telemedicine may be a solution, but we are not yet equipped for it.

The longer-term psychological impacts of a major economic slowdown are not yet known. Based on past epidemics and other disasters, they might include unemployment and the related consequences of domestic violence and suicide.

COVID-19 is spreading fast. As clinicians, we must take steps to protect ourselves and our patients. Because this is a new virus, we have a lot to learn about it. We must be agile, because our actions will need to change over time.

Dr. Ritchie is chair of psychiatry at Medstar Washington Hospital Center and professor of psychiatry at Georgetown University, Washington.

Coronavirus fever is gripping the world. What I hope to do here is open a discussion of what psychiatrists and other clinicians can do to mitigate the psychological consequences of COVID-19. I am focusing on the right now.

The psychological consequences are fear of the disease, effects of possible quarantine, and the potential effects of the economic slowdown on the world economy.

Fear of the disease is gripping the nation. With invisible diseases, that is not irrational. If you do not know whether you are exposed and/or spreading it to coworkers, children, or aged parents, then the fear of contagion is logical. So I would not “poo-poo” the “worried well.” If you do not know whether you are exposed or contagious, anxiety is a legitimate concern – especially if you have parents in nursing homes.

The quarantine issue is harder. I have long thought that quarantine would be harder to implement in the United States than in nations like China. But self or home quarantine is currently the de facto solution for those who have been exposed. What are some remedies?

For everybody, having an adequate supply of basic supplies at home is essential. As in preparing for a snowstorm or hurricane, adequate food, water, and yes, toilet paper, is important to relieve anxiety.

Psychiatrists can encourage patients to have an adequate supply of their medications. That may mean that we prescribe more pills. If the patient has suicidal tendencies, we can ask other family members to safeguard those medications.

A salient question is how likely people who are addicted to alcohol or opiates are to stay in place if they are withdrawing. In previous presentations, delivered some 20 years ago, I have (facetiously) suggested horse-drawn wagons of beer to avoid people breaking quarantine in search of the substances they are physically dependent on.

For people in methadone clinics who require daily visits that kind of approach may be harder. I do not have a solution, other than to plan for the eventuality of large-scale withdrawal and the behavioral consequences, which, unfortunately, often involve crime. Telemedicine may be a solution, but we are not yet equipped for it.

The longer-term psychological impacts of a major economic slowdown are not yet known. Based on past epidemics and other disasters, they might include unemployment and the related consequences of domestic violence and suicide.

COVID-19 is spreading fast. As clinicians, we must take steps to protect ourselves and our patients. Because this is a new virus, we have a lot to learn about it. We must be agile, because our actions will need to change over time.

Dr. Ritchie is chair of psychiatry at Medstar Washington Hospital Center and professor of psychiatry at Georgetown University, Washington.

You learned a lot of things in medical school. But there must have been some things that you unlearned on the way to your degree. For instance, you unlearned that you could catch a cold by playing outside on a cold damp day without your jacket. You unlearned that handling a toad would give you warts.

©KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Thinkstock

The authors of a recent study suggest that over your 4 years in medical school you also unlearned how to be empathetic (“Does Empathy Decline in the Clinical Phase of Medical Education? A Nationwide, Multi-institutional, Cross-Sectional Study of Students at DO-Granting Medical Schools,” Acad Med. 2020 Jan 21. doi: 10.1097/ACM.0000000000003175). The researchers surveyed more than 10,000 medical students at nearly 50 DO-granting medical schools using standardized questionnaire called the Jefferson Scale of Empathy. They discovered that the students in the clinical phase (years 3 and 4) had lower “empathy scores” than the students in the preclinical phase of their education (years 1 and 2). This decline was statistically significant but “negligible” in magnitude. One wonders why they even chose to publish their results, particularly when the number of respondents to the web-based survey declined with each successive year in medical school. Having looked at the a sample of some of the questions being asked, I can understand why third- and fourth-year students couldn’t be bothered to respond. They were too busy to answer a few dozen “lame” questions.

There may be a decline in empathy over the course our medical training, but I’m not sure that this study can speak to it. An older study found that although medical students scores on a self-administered scale declined between the second and third year, the observed empathetic behavior actually increased. If I had to choose, I would lean more heavily on the results of the behavioral observations.

Certainly, we all changed over the course of our medical education. Including postgraduate training, it may have lasted a decade or more. We saw hundreds of patients, observed life and death on a scale and with an intensity that most of us previously had never experienced. Our perspective changed from being a naive observer to playing the role of an active participant. Did that change include a decline in our capacity for empathy?

Something had to change. We found quickly that we didn’t have the time or emotional energy to learn as much about the person hiding behind every complaint as we once thought we should. We had to cut corners. Sometimes we cut too many. On the other hand, as we saw more patients we may have learned more efficient ways of discovering what we needed to know about them to become an effective and caring physician. If we found ourselves in a specialty in which patients have a high mortality, we were forced to learn ways of protecting ourselves from the emotional damage.

What would you call this process? Was it empathy erosion? Was it a hardening or toughening? Or was it simply maturation? Whatever term you use, it was an obligatory process if we hoped to survive. However, not all of us have done it well. Some of us have narrowed our focus to see only the complaint and the diagnosis, and we too often fail to see the human hiding in plain sight.

For those of us who completed our training with our empathy intact, was this the result of a genetic gift or the atmosphere our parents had created at home? I suspect that in most cases our capacity for empathy as physicians was nurtured and enhanced by the role models we encountered during our training. The mentors we most revered were those who had already been through the annealing process of medical school and specialty training and become even more skilled at caring than when they left college. It is an intangible that can’t be taught. Sadly, there is no way of guaranteeing that everyone who enters medical school will be exposed to or benefit from even one of these master physicians.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

You learned a lot of things in medical school. But there must have been some things that you unlearned on the way to your degree. For instance, you unlearned that you could catch a cold by playing outside on a cold damp day without your jacket. You unlearned that handling a toad would give you warts.

©KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Thinkstock

The authors of a recent study suggest that over your 4 years in medical school you also unlearned how to be empathetic (“Does Empathy Decline in the Clinical Phase of Medical Education? A Nationwide, Multi-institutional, Cross-Sectional Study of Students at DO-Granting Medical Schools,” Acad Med. 2020 Jan 21. doi: 10.1097/ACM.0000000000003175). The researchers surveyed more than 10,000 medical students at nearly 50 DO-granting medical schools using standardized questionnaire called the Jefferson Scale of Empathy. They discovered that the students in the clinical phase (years 3 and 4) had lower “empathy scores” than the students in the preclinical phase of their education (years 1 and 2). This decline was statistically significant but “negligible” in magnitude. One wonders why they even chose to publish their results, particularly when the number of respondents to the web-based survey declined with each successive year in medical school. Having looked at the a sample of some of the questions being asked, I can understand why third- and fourth-year students couldn’t be bothered to respond. They were too busy to answer a few dozen “lame” questions.

There may be a decline in empathy over the course our medical training, but I’m not sure that this study can speak to it. An older study found that although medical students scores on a self-administered scale declined between the second and third year, the observed empathetic behavior actually increased. If I had to choose, I would lean more heavily on the results of the behavioral observations.

Certainly, we all changed over the course of our medical education. Including postgraduate training, it may have lasted a decade or more. We saw hundreds of patients, observed life and death on a scale and with an intensity that most of us previously had never experienced. Our perspective changed from being a naive observer to playing the role of an active participant. Did that change include a decline in our capacity for empathy?

Something had to change. We found quickly that we didn’t have the time or emotional energy to learn as much about the person hiding behind every complaint as we once thought we should. We had to cut corners. Sometimes we cut too many. On the other hand, as we saw more patients we may have learned more efficient ways of discovering what we needed to know about them to become an effective and caring physician. If we found ourselves in a specialty in which patients have a high mortality, we were forced to learn ways of protecting ourselves from the emotional damage.

What would you call this process? Was it empathy erosion? Was it a hardening or toughening? Or was it simply maturation? Whatever term you use, it was an obligatory process if we hoped to survive. However, not all of us have done it well. Some of us have narrowed our focus to see only the complaint and the diagnosis, and we too often fail to see the human hiding in plain sight.

For those of us who completed our training with our empathy intact, was this the result of a genetic gift or the atmosphere our parents had created at home? I suspect that in most cases our capacity for empathy as physicians was nurtured and enhanced by the role models we encountered during our training. The mentors we most revered were those who had already been through the annealing process of medical school and specialty training and become even more skilled at caring than when they left college. It is an intangible that can’t be taught. Sadly, there is no way of guaranteeing that everyone who enters medical school will be exposed to or benefit from even one of these master physicians.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

You learned a lot of things in medical school. But there must have been some things that you unlearned on the way to your degree. For instance, you unlearned that you could catch a cold by playing outside on a cold damp day without your jacket. You unlearned that handling a toad would give you warts.

©KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Thinkstock

The authors of a recent study suggest that over your 4 years in medical school you also unlearned how to be empathetic (“Does Empathy Decline in the Clinical Phase of Medical Education? A Nationwide, Multi-institutional, Cross-Sectional Study of Students at DO-Granting Medical Schools,” Acad Med. 2020 Jan 21. doi: 10.1097/ACM.0000000000003175). The researchers surveyed more than 10,000 medical students at nearly 50 DO-granting medical schools using standardized questionnaire called the Jefferson Scale of Empathy. They discovered that the students in the clinical phase (years 3 and 4) had lower “empathy scores” than the students in the preclinical phase of their education (years 1 and 2). This decline was statistically significant but “negligible” in magnitude. One wonders why they even chose to publish their results, particularly when the number of respondents to the web-based survey declined with each successive year in medical school. Having looked at the a sample of some of the questions being asked, I can understand why third- and fourth-year students couldn’t be bothered to respond. They were too busy to answer a few dozen “lame” questions.

There may be a decline in empathy over the course our medical training, but I’m not sure that this study can speak to it. An older study found that although medical students scores on a self-administered scale declined between the second and third year, the observed empathetic behavior actually increased. If I had to choose, I would lean more heavily on the results of the behavioral observations.

Certainly, we all changed over the course of our medical education. Including postgraduate training, it may have lasted a decade or more. We saw hundreds of patients, observed life and death on a scale and with an intensity that most of us previously had never experienced. Our perspective changed from being a naive observer to playing the role of an active participant. Did that change include a decline in our capacity for empathy?

Something had to change. We found quickly that we didn’t have the time or emotional energy to learn as much about the person hiding behind every complaint as we once thought we should. We had to cut corners. Sometimes we cut too many. On the other hand, as we saw more patients we may have learned more efficient ways of discovering what we needed to know about them to become an effective and caring physician. If we found ourselves in a specialty in which patients have a high mortality, we were forced to learn ways of protecting ourselves from the emotional damage.

What would you call this process? Was it empathy erosion? Was it a hardening or toughening? Or was it simply maturation? Whatever term you use, it was an obligatory process if we hoped to survive. However, not all of us have done it well. Some of us have narrowed our focus to see only the complaint and the diagnosis, and we too often fail to see the human hiding in plain sight.

For those of us who completed our training with our empathy intact, was this the result of a genetic gift or the atmosphere our parents had created at home? I suspect that in most cases our capacity for empathy as physicians was nurtured and enhanced by the role models we encountered during our training. The mentors we most revered were those who had already been through the annealing process of medical school and specialty training and become even more skilled at caring than when they left college. It is an intangible that can’t be taught. Sadly, there is no way of guaranteeing that everyone who enters medical school will be exposed to or benefit from even one of these master physicians.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

U.S. high school students who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or questioning – “sexual minorities” – faced twice the risk of physical or sexual assault in the past year compared with their heterosexual peers, according to findings reported in a research letter.

Sexual-minority females were particularly more likely to experience physical violence while sexual-minority boys had a fourfold increased risk of sexual violence.

“The results of our study suggest the existence of a crisis of violence against sexual minority adolescents,” Theodore L. Caputi, MPH, of Harvard Medical School, Boston, and colleagues reported in JAMA Pediatrics. “Given the substantial physical and emotional consequences of violence for those subjected to it and the large existing health disparities among sexual minority adolescents, addressing both physical and sexual violence against sexual minority adolescents should become a public health priority.”

Joshua D. Safer, MD, executive director of the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery in the Mount Sinai Health System, New York, said he was not surprised by the findings because adolescents who may feel more vulnerable relative to their peers are likely to be more of a target. They may not have the supports they need, he said, which will affect their resiliency and their ability to push back.

“These patients are at ages where their parents might be among their supporters,” Dr. Safer said in an interview. “People in their circle may not be aware of their circumstances.”

He emphasized the need for physicians to ensure their offices are safe places for sexual-minority youth to talk to adolescent patients about their gender and sexual identity as well as any history of victimization, and to involve parents in being an ally of their child.

The researchers analyzed data from the nationally representative 2015 and 2017 National Youth Risk Behavior Surveys administered to public and private high school students in grades 9-12 by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The 28,811 total respondents represented a 60% response rate both years.

After indicating their sex as male or female and their sexual orientation, respondents reported whether, in the past year, they had experienced a physical fight at school, a physical fight anywhere, or physical violence from a romantic partner. They also reported whether they had been sexually assaulted in the past year by a romantic partner or ever been forced to have intercourse. The 2017 survey included an additional question about sexual assault by anyone in the past year.

Most youth (87%) identified themselves as heterosexual while 2% were gay/lesbian, 7% were bisexual, and 4% were unsure. Sexual minorities reported a higher prevalence of all forms of violence and assault, compared with their heterosexual counterparts. Although risk of a physical fight in the past year differed by a small amount (28% of sexual-minority youth vs. 22% of heterosexual youth), the gap was considerably greater for risk of physical violence by a romantic partner (12% of sexual-minority youth vs. 5% of heterosexual youth).

More than three times as many sexual-minority adolescents (18%) as heterosexual adolescents (5%) said they had ever been forced to have intercourse, and a similarly high proportion of sexual-minority students (21%) had been sexually assaulted in the past year, compared with heterosexual students (8%). After accounting for survey year, sex, age, race/ethnicity, English language proficiency, and grade level, youth who identified as anything other than heterosexual were about twice as likely as their heterosexual counterparts to have experienced physical or sexual violence, including physical violence by a romantic partner (adjusted risk ratio, 1.97) or sexual assault by anyone (aRR, 2.10), in the past year. The risk of physical violence by a romantic partner or sexual assault by anyone was even greater for bisexual youth (aRR, 2.22 and aRR, 2.36, respectively).

The increased likelihood of physical violence and sexual violence differed by sex. Girls who identified as lesbian, bisexual, or questioning were more likely than heterosexual girls to have been in a fight at school or anywhere else (aRR, 1.91 and aRR, 1.74, respectively). Boys who were gay, bisexual, or questioning, meanwhile, were over four times more likely than heterosexual boys to have had forced intercourse or any kind of sexual assault (aRR, 4.70 and aRR, 4.64, respectively).

These findings point to the need for physicians to be “specifically talking to youth about gender identity and sexual orientation. Validating what kids are feeling is important,” Dr. Safer said in an interview.

Key to that process is making sure the physician’s office feels like a safe place for LGBTQ youth to have these kinds of conversations. “Most primary care and pediatric and adolescent care practices are not feeling well equipped to take care of these kids and are not necessarily serving as a good resource for these kids,” Dr. Safer said.

It’s also important for physicians to ask youth about potential violence or abuse they have experienced, including depression and sequelae from lack of support, for which gender- and sexual-minority youth are at greater risk, he said. Finally, doctors need to engage parents in the conversation.

“As a medical professional, you need to be asking the questions and really be out there as an ally, especially for pediatric and adolescent patients, and you need to be helping the parents of your patients be allies too,” Dr. Safer said.

The study was limited by having a binary question only about respondent’s sex and no data collection about transgender youth. The study’s cross-sectional design also precludes the ability to claim causation about any of the associations.

The research was funded by the Marshall Aid Commemoration Commission, Stanford (Calif.) University, and the National Institutes of Health. The authors had no disclosures.

SOURCE: Caputi TL et al. JAMA Pediatr. 2019 Mar 9. doi: 10.1001/jamapediatrics.2019.6291.

U.S. high school students who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or questioning – “sexual minorities” – faced twice the risk of physical or sexual assault in the past year compared with their heterosexual peers, according to findings reported in a research letter.

Sexual-minority females were particularly more likely to experience physical violence while sexual-minority boys had a fourfold increased risk of sexual violence.

“The results of our study suggest the existence of a crisis of violence against sexual minority adolescents,” Theodore L. Caputi, MPH, of Harvard Medical School, Boston, and colleagues reported in JAMA Pediatrics. “Given the substantial physical and emotional consequences of violence for those subjected to it and the large existing health disparities among sexual minority adolescents, addressing both physical and sexual violence against sexual minority adolescents should become a public health priority.”

Joshua D. Safer, MD, executive director of the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery in the Mount Sinai Health System, New York, said he was not surprised by the findings because adolescents who may feel more vulnerable relative to their peers are likely to be more of a target. They may not have the supports they need, he said, which will affect their resiliency and their ability to push back.

“These patients are at ages where their parents might be among their supporters,” Dr. Safer said in an interview. “People in their circle may not be aware of their circumstances.”

He emphasized the need for physicians to ensure their offices are safe places for sexual-minority youth to talk to adolescent patients about their gender and sexual identity as well as any history of victimization, and to involve parents in being an ally of their child.

The researchers analyzed data from the nationally representative 2015 and 2017 National Youth Risk Behavior Surveys administered to public and private high school students in grades 9-12 by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The 28,811 total respondents represented a 60% response rate both years.

After indicating their sex as male or female and their sexual orientation, respondents reported whether, in the past year, they had experienced a physical fight at school, a physical fight anywhere, or physical violence from a romantic partner. They also reported whether they had been sexually assaulted in the past year by a romantic partner or ever been forced to have intercourse. The 2017 survey included an additional question about sexual assault by anyone in the past year.

Most youth (87%) identified themselves as heterosexual while 2% were gay/lesbian, 7% were bisexual, and 4% were unsure. Sexual minorities reported a higher prevalence of all forms of violence and assault, compared with their heterosexual counterparts. Although risk of a physical fight in the past year differed by a small amount (28% of sexual-minority youth vs. 22% of heterosexual youth), the gap was considerably greater for risk of physical violence by a romantic partner (12% of sexual-minority youth vs. 5% of heterosexual youth).

More than three times as many sexual-minority adolescents (18%) as heterosexual adolescents (5%) said they had ever been forced to have intercourse, and a similarly high proportion of sexual-minority students (21%) had been sexually assaulted in the past year, compared with heterosexual students (8%). After accounting for survey year, sex, age, race/ethnicity, English language proficiency, and grade level, youth who identified as anything other than heterosexual were about twice as likely as their heterosexual counterparts to have experienced physical or sexual violence, including physical violence by a romantic partner (adjusted risk ratio, 1.97) or sexual assault by anyone (aRR, 2.10), in the past year. The risk of physical violence by a romantic partner or sexual assault by anyone was even greater for bisexual youth (aRR, 2.22 and aRR, 2.36, respectively).

The increased likelihood of physical violence and sexual violence differed by sex. Girls who identified as lesbian, bisexual, or questioning were more likely than heterosexual girls to have been in a fight at school or anywhere else (aRR, 1.91 and aRR, 1.74, respectively). Boys who were gay, bisexual, or questioning, meanwhile, were over four times more likely than heterosexual boys to have had forced intercourse or any kind of sexual assault (aRR, 4.70 and aRR, 4.64, respectively).

These findings point to the need for physicians to be “specifically talking to youth about gender identity and sexual orientation. Validating what kids are feeling is important,” Dr. Safer said in an interview.

Key to that process is making sure the physician’s office feels like a safe place for LGBTQ youth to have these kinds of conversations. “Most primary care and pediatric and adolescent care practices are not feeling well equipped to take care of these kids and are not necessarily serving as a good resource for these kids,” Dr. Safer said.

It’s also important for physicians to ask youth about potential violence or abuse they have experienced, including depression and sequelae from lack of support, for which gender- and sexual-minority youth are at greater risk, he said. Finally, doctors need to engage parents in the conversation.

“As a medical professional, you need to be asking the questions and really be out there as an ally, especially for pediatric and adolescent patients, and you need to be helping the parents of your patients be allies too,” Dr. Safer said.

The study was limited by having a binary question only about respondent’s sex and no data collection about transgender youth. The study’s cross-sectional design also precludes the ability to claim causation about any of the associations.

The research was funded by the Marshall Aid Commemoration Commission, Stanford (Calif.) University, and the National Institutes of Health. The authors had no disclosures.

SOURCE: Caputi TL et al. JAMA Pediatr. 2019 Mar 9. doi: 10.1001/jamapediatrics.2019.6291.

U.S. high school students who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or questioning – “sexual minorities” – faced twice the risk of physical or sexual assault in the past year compared with their heterosexual peers, according to findings reported in a research letter.

Sexual-minority females were particularly more likely to experience physical violence while sexual-minority boys had a fourfold increased risk of sexual violence.

“The results of our study suggest the existence of a crisis of violence against sexual minority adolescents,” Theodore L. Caputi, MPH, of Harvard Medical School, Boston, and colleagues reported in JAMA Pediatrics. “Given the substantial physical and emotional consequences of violence for those subjected to it and the large existing health disparities among sexual minority adolescents, addressing both physical and sexual violence against sexual minority adolescents should become a public health priority.”

Joshua D. Safer, MD, executive director of the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery in the Mount Sinai Health System, New York, said he was not surprised by the findings because adolescents who may feel more vulnerable relative to their peers are likely to be more of a target. They may not have the supports they need, he said, which will affect their resiliency and their ability to push back.

“These patients are at ages where their parents might be among their supporters,” Dr. Safer said in an interview. “People in their circle may not be aware of their circumstances.”

He emphasized the need for physicians to ensure their offices are safe places for sexual-minority youth to talk to adolescent patients about their gender and sexual identity as well as any history of victimization, and to involve parents in being an ally of their child.

The researchers analyzed data from the nationally representative 2015 and 2017 National Youth Risk Behavior Surveys administered to public and private high school students in grades 9-12 by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The 28,811 total respondents represented a 60% response rate both years.

After indicating their sex as male or female and their sexual orientation, respondents reported whether, in the past year, they had experienced a physical fight at school, a physical fight anywhere, or physical violence from a romantic partner. They also reported whether they had been sexually assaulted in the past year by a romantic partner or ever been forced to have intercourse. The 2017 survey included an additional question about sexual assault by anyone in the past year.

Most youth (87%) identified themselves as heterosexual while 2% were gay/lesbian, 7% were bisexual, and 4% were unsure. Sexual minorities reported a higher prevalence of all forms of violence and assault, compared with their heterosexual counterparts. Although risk of a physical fight in the past year differed by a small amount (28% of sexual-minority youth vs. 22% of heterosexual youth), the gap was considerably greater for risk of physical violence by a romantic partner (12% of sexual-minority youth vs. 5% of heterosexual youth).

More than three times as many sexual-minority adolescents (18%) as heterosexual adolescents (5%) said they had ever been forced to have intercourse, and a similarly high proportion of sexual-minority students (21%) had been sexually assaulted in the past year, compared with heterosexual students (8%). After accounting for survey year, sex, age, race/ethnicity, English language proficiency, and grade level, youth who identified as anything other than heterosexual were about twice as likely as their heterosexual counterparts to have experienced physical or sexual violence, including physical violence by a romantic partner (adjusted risk ratio, 1.97) or sexual assault by anyone (aRR, 2.10), in the past year. The risk of physical violence by a romantic partner or sexual assault by anyone was even greater for bisexual youth (aRR, 2.22 and aRR, 2.36, respectively).

The increased likelihood of physical violence and sexual violence differed by sex. Girls who identified as lesbian, bisexual, or questioning were more likely than heterosexual girls to have been in a fight at school or anywhere else (aRR, 1.91 and aRR, 1.74, respectively). Boys who were gay, bisexual, or questioning, meanwhile, were over four times more likely than heterosexual boys to have had forced intercourse or any kind of sexual assault (aRR, 4.70 and aRR, 4.64, respectively).

These findings point to the need for physicians to be “specifically talking to youth about gender identity and sexual orientation. Validating what kids are feeling is important,” Dr. Safer said in an interview.

Key to that process is making sure the physician’s office feels like a safe place for LGBTQ youth to have these kinds of conversations. “Most primary care and pediatric and adolescent care practices are not feeling well equipped to take care of these kids and are not necessarily serving as a good resource for these kids,” Dr. Safer said.

It’s also important for physicians to ask youth about potential violence or abuse they have experienced, including depression and sequelae from lack of support, for which gender- and sexual-minority youth are at greater risk, he said. Finally, doctors need to engage parents in the conversation.

“As a medical professional, you need to be asking the questions and really be out there as an ally, especially for pediatric and adolescent patients, and you need to be helping the parents of your patients be allies too,” Dr. Safer said.

The study was limited by having a binary question only about respondent’s sex and no data collection about transgender youth. The study’s cross-sectional design also precludes the ability to claim causation about any of the associations.

The research was funded by the Marshall Aid Commemoration Commission, Stanford (Calif.) University, and the National Institutes of Health. The authors had no disclosures.

SOURCE: Caputi TL et al. JAMA Pediatr. 2019 Mar 9. doi: 10.1001/jamapediatrics.2019.6291.

Over the past years, I have had the opportunity to attend countless lectures on burnout provided by colleagues spanning across many fields in mental health and health care in general. The talks generally follow a common narration: 1. Your work is important and meaningful to many. 2. Your work requires significant training, dedication, and passion. 3. While you get personal gratification from your work, it does come with a cost. 4. This cost can be great and can affect you physically and mentally. 5. This cost is called burnout.

Burnout is described as irritability (poor mood), low energy, poor concentration, difficulty appreciating enjoyable things (anhedonia), and poor sleep, among other symptoms, as a result of work stress. At this point in the lectures, I usually ask whomever is sitting next to me: “I came in late, is this a lecture on depression?” to which the answer is typically “No! Of course not, this is about ‘burnout’ not mental illness.” And here lies a concern about burnout: Is burnout a concept describing depression that we have repackaged to protect professionals from the stigmatization of mental illness? Does our tendency not to characterize patients’ struggles as burnout stigmatize them – and imply that their employment is not challenging to cause burnout?

According to the literature, a range of factors affects burnout in professionals: lack of control, unclear job expectations, dysfunctional workplace dynamics, extremes of activity, lack of social support, work-life imbalance. Contrary to depression, burnout is not caused by neurobiological problems. Patients with burnout don’t have chemical imbalances, hyperactive default mode networks, or overactive amygdalas. Burnout is caused by social factors and affects dedicated, caring, and exceptional individuals who have been pushed outside their window of tolerance.

Literature suggests a variety of remedies to treat burnout: Reevaluate your employment, discuss occupational concerns with your supervisor, discuss with colleagues, receive help from your social support system, and seek human resources services. In addition, experts recommend engaging in relaxing activities, improving your sleep hygiene, exercising regularly, and participating in mindfulness to reduce symptoms. Contrary to depression, burnout does not require individuals to fix their maladaptive thoughts or discover inadequate unconscious beliefs that may be affecting their work. Contrary to depression, burnout does not require the rebalancing of neurochemistry using psychotropic medication.

The concept of burnout engenders concerns. I fear that it divides physicians and patients into two different classes and thus further stigmatizes those with mental illness. It implies that we physicians are somehow immune from mental illness and its consequences. We do not suffer from brain abnormalities, we do not require mind-altering medications, we are not “mentally ill.” Contrarily, at times it might be implied that patients’ jobs are not important enough to cause burnout; if they feel sad, anhedonic, have poor energy and poor sleep, it is because they have mental illness. Their brains are inadequate and flawed. But for physicians, our brains are intact, just pushed beyond human capabilities.

I should point out that I do not think that burnout experts believe or desire to promote such concepts. I am not aware of burnout experts championing physician exceptionalism or promoting the stigmatization of patients. I believe that this problem is an unintended consequence, a side effect, of the idea of burnout itself.

Another concern I have is that the concept of burnout may actually hinder physicians from seeking necessary and appropriate professional services to address symptoms. Interestingly, most lectures I have attended on burnout have not discussed the concerning number of physicians who end their lives by suicide. Burnout can give physicians the impression that their problems are social and occupational, thus not requiring a medical solution or intervention. There was a time when I argued against the removal of the grief exclusion in the DSM; I worried that we were pathologizing natural emotional reactions to trauma. However, I have come to realize that, if someone is debilitated by depression, seeking professional help should not be predicated on the trigger. As such, I would recommend the vast number of physicians who state burnout in surveys to seriously consider the possibility that they may, in fact, be suffering from mental illness. We encourage our patients to seek help and speak out against stigmatization; isn’t it time that we as professionals should not be afraid to do the same?

I have concerns about the concept of burnout, but I certainly do not think that we should get rid of the idea. On the contrary, I applaud this attempt at de-pathologizing, and de-medicalizing human suffering. As many have argued with more or less success and controversy of the years, many emotional problems are not best suited to be treated by psychotropic medication or even psychiatry. I think that psychiatry should embrace paradigms that include social and occupational constructs of emotional pain, not rooted in diseases and/or chemical imbalances. Such paradigms should, furthermore, not be limited to certain professions or life circumstances. We are all affected by human suffering. Access and willingness to appropriate care or support should not be granted only to those with a mental illness diagnosis.

Burnout is a promising idea that challenges our conceptualization of mental disorders. Burnout brings a humanity to emotional pain frequently lost in the medicalized diagnoses of the DSM. Psychiatry should seriously consider opening its door to nonmedicalized understanding of psychological suffering. By opening those doors, we begin to create a less medicalized construct for human suffering. We begin to create one based on shared human experience.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Among his writings is chapter 7 in the book “Critical Psychiatry: Controversies and Clinical Implications” (Springer, 2019).

Over the past years, I have had the opportunity to attend countless lectures on burnout provided by colleagues spanning across many fields in mental health and health care in general. The talks generally follow a common narration: 1. Your work is important and meaningful to many. 2. Your work requires significant training, dedication, and passion. 3. While you get personal gratification from your work, it does come with a cost. 4. This cost can be great and can affect you physically and mentally. 5. This cost is called burnout.

Burnout is described as irritability (poor mood), low energy, poor concentration, difficulty appreciating enjoyable things (anhedonia), and poor sleep, among other symptoms, as a result of work stress. At this point in the lectures, I usually ask whomever is sitting next to me: “I came in late, is this a lecture on depression?” to which the answer is typically “No! Of course not, this is about ‘burnout’ not mental illness.” And here lies a concern about burnout: Is burnout a concept describing depression that we have repackaged to protect professionals from the stigmatization of mental illness? Does our tendency not to characterize patients’ struggles as burnout stigmatize them – and imply that their employment is not challenging to cause burnout?

According to the literature, a range of factors affects burnout in professionals: lack of control, unclear job expectations, dysfunctional workplace dynamics, extremes of activity, lack of social support, work-life imbalance. Contrary to depression, burnout is not caused by neurobiological problems. Patients with burnout don’t have chemical imbalances, hyperactive default mode networks, or overactive amygdalas. Burnout is caused by social factors and affects dedicated, caring, and exceptional individuals who have been pushed outside their window of tolerance.

Literature suggests a variety of remedies to treat burnout: Reevaluate your employment, discuss occupational concerns with your supervisor, discuss with colleagues, receive help from your social support system, and seek human resources services. In addition, experts recommend engaging in relaxing activities, improving your sleep hygiene, exercising regularly, and participating in mindfulness to reduce symptoms. Contrary to depression, burnout does not require individuals to fix their maladaptive thoughts or discover inadequate unconscious beliefs that may be affecting their work. Contrary to depression, burnout does not require the rebalancing of neurochemistry using psychotropic medication.

The concept of burnout engenders concerns. I fear that it divides physicians and patients into two different classes and thus further stigmatizes those with mental illness. It implies that we physicians are somehow immune from mental illness and its consequences. We do not suffer from brain abnormalities, we do not require mind-altering medications, we are not “mentally ill.” Contrarily, at times it might be implied that patients’ jobs are not important enough to cause burnout; if they feel sad, anhedonic, have poor energy and poor sleep, it is because they have mental illness. Their brains are inadequate and flawed. But for physicians, our brains are intact, just pushed beyond human capabilities.

I should point out that I do not think that burnout experts believe or desire to promote such concepts. I am not aware of burnout experts championing physician exceptionalism or promoting the stigmatization of patients. I believe that this problem is an unintended consequence, a side effect, of the idea of burnout itself.

Another concern I have is that the concept of burnout may actually hinder physicians from seeking necessary and appropriate professional services to address symptoms. Interestingly, most lectures I have attended on burnout have not discussed the concerning number of physicians who end their lives by suicide. Burnout can give physicians the impression that their problems are social and occupational, thus not requiring a medical solution or intervention. There was a time when I argued against the removal of the grief exclusion in the DSM; I worried that we were pathologizing natural emotional reactions to trauma. However, I have come to realize that, if someone is debilitated by depression, seeking professional help should not be predicated on the trigger. As such, I would recommend the vast number of physicians who state burnout in surveys to seriously consider the possibility that they may, in fact, be suffering from mental illness. We encourage our patients to seek help and speak out against stigmatization; isn’t it time that we as professionals should not be afraid to do the same?

I have concerns about the concept of burnout, but I certainly do not think that we should get rid of the idea. On the contrary, I applaud this attempt at de-pathologizing, and de-medicalizing human suffering. As many have argued with more or less success and controversy of the years, many emotional problems are not best suited to be treated by psychotropic medication or even psychiatry. I think that psychiatry should embrace paradigms that include social and occupational constructs of emotional pain, not rooted in diseases and/or chemical imbalances. Such paradigms should, furthermore, not be limited to certain professions or life circumstances. We are all affected by human suffering. Access and willingness to appropriate care or support should not be granted only to those with a mental illness diagnosis.

Burnout is a promising idea that challenges our conceptualization of mental disorders. Burnout brings a humanity to emotional pain frequently lost in the medicalized diagnoses of the DSM. Psychiatry should seriously consider opening its door to nonmedicalized understanding of psychological suffering. By opening those doors, we begin to create a less medicalized construct for human suffering. We begin to create one based on shared human experience.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Among his writings is chapter 7 in the book “Critical Psychiatry: Controversies and Clinical Implications” (Springer, 2019).

Over the past years, I have had the opportunity to attend countless lectures on burnout provided by colleagues spanning across many fields in mental health and health care in general. The talks generally follow a common narration: 1. Your work is important and meaningful to many. 2. Your work requires significant training, dedication, and passion. 3. While you get personal gratification from your work, it does come with a cost. 4. This cost can be great and can affect you physically and mentally. 5. This cost is called burnout.

Burnout is described as irritability (poor mood), low energy, poor concentration, difficulty appreciating enjoyable things (anhedonia), and poor sleep, among other symptoms, as a result of work stress. At this point in the lectures, I usually ask whomever is sitting next to me: “I came in late, is this a lecture on depression?” to which the answer is typically “No! Of course not, this is about ‘burnout’ not mental illness.” And here lies a concern about burnout: Is burnout a concept describing depression that we have repackaged to protect professionals from the stigmatization of mental illness? Does our tendency not to characterize patients’ struggles as burnout stigmatize them – and imply that their employment is not challenging to cause burnout?

According to the literature, a range of factors affects burnout in professionals: lack of control, unclear job expectations, dysfunctional workplace dynamics, extremes of activity, lack of social support, work-life imbalance. Contrary to depression, burnout is not caused by neurobiological problems. Patients with burnout don’t have chemical imbalances, hyperactive default mode networks, or overactive amygdalas. Burnout is caused by social factors and affects dedicated, caring, and exceptional individuals who have been pushed outside their window of tolerance.

Literature suggests a variety of remedies to treat burnout: Reevaluate your employment, discuss occupational concerns with your supervisor, discuss with colleagues, receive help from your social support system, and seek human resources services. In addition, experts recommend engaging in relaxing activities, improving your sleep hygiene, exercising regularly, and participating in mindfulness to reduce symptoms. Contrary to depression, burnout does not require individuals to fix their maladaptive thoughts or discover inadequate unconscious beliefs that may be affecting their work. Contrary to depression, burnout does not require the rebalancing of neurochemistry using psychotropic medication.

The concept of burnout engenders concerns. I fear that it divides physicians and patients into two different classes and thus further stigmatizes those with mental illness. It implies that we physicians are somehow immune from mental illness and its consequences. We do not suffer from brain abnormalities, we do not require mind-altering medications, we are not “mentally ill.” Contrarily, at times it might be implied that patients’ jobs are not important enough to cause burnout; if they feel sad, anhedonic, have poor energy and poor sleep, it is because they have mental illness. Their brains are inadequate and flawed. But for physicians, our brains are intact, just pushed beyond human capabilities.

I should point out that I do not think that burnout experts believe or desire to promote such concepts. I am not aware of burnout experts championing physician exceptionalism or promoting the stigmatization of patients. I believe that this problem is an unintended consequence, a side effect, of the idea of burnout itself.

Another concern I have is that the concept of burnout may actually hinder physicians from seeking necessary and appropriate professional services to address symptoms. Interestingly, most lectures I have attended on burnout have not discussed the concerning number of physicians who end their lives by suicide. Burnout can give physicians the impression that their problems are social and occupational, thus not requiring a medical solution or intervention. There was a time when I argued against the removal of the grief exclusion in the DSM; I worried that we were pathologizing natural emotional reactions to trauma. However, I have come to realize that, if someone is debilitated by depression, seeking professional help should not be predicated on the trigger. As such, I would recommend the vast number of physicians who state burnout in surveys to seriously consider the possibility that they may, in fact, be suffering from mental illness. We encourage our patients to seek help and speak out against stigmatization; isn’t it time that we as professionals should not be afraid to do the same?

I have concerns about the concept of burnout, but I certainly do not think that we should get rid of the idea. On the contrary, I applaud this attempt at de-pathologizing, and de-medicalizing human suffering. As many have argued with more or less success and controversy of the years, many emotional problems are not best suited to be treated by psychotropic medication or even psychiatry. I think that psychiatry should embrace paradigms that include social and occupational constructs of emotional pain, not rooted in diseases and/or chemical imbalances. Such paradigms should, furthermore, not be limited to certain professions or life circumstances. We are all affected by human suffering. Access and willingness to appropriate care or support should not be granted only to those with a mental illness diagnosis.

Burnout is a promising idea that challenges our conceptualization of mental disorders. Burnout brings a humanity to emotional pain frequently lost in the medicalized diagnoses of the DSM. Psychiatry should seriously consider opening its door to nonmedicalized understanding of psychological suffering. By opening those doors, we begin to create a less medicalized construct for human suffering. We begin to create one based on shared human experience.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Among his writings is chapter 7 in the book “Critical Psychiatry: Controversies and Clinical Implications” (Springer, 2019).

LAS VEGAS – More than 10 years ago, Gerard Sanacora, PhD, MD, came across a study in the medical literature that stopped him in his tracks.

For the study, Austrian neurologist Eberhard A. Deisenhammer, MD, and colleagues sought to determine the length of the period between consideration and accomplishment of a suicide attempt (J Clin Psychiatry. 2009;70[1]:19-24). To do so, they interviewed 82 patients who were referred to a psychiatric university hospital after a suicide attempt. Nearly half of the patients (48%) reported that the period between the first current thought of suicide and the actual attempt had lasted 10 minutes or less.

“When you’re talking about treating suicide behavior, there are so many components: the impulsivity component, the resilience component – all these things that can’t be measured with a simple outcome measure,” Dr. Sanacora said at an annual psychopharmacology update held by the Nevada Psychiatric Association. “That’s one of the real challenges. It requires us to take a good look at how we’re treating these patients in general.”

It also underscores the need for new treatments that target suicidal ideation and behavior.

“There is increasing evidence that ketamine and esketamine can produce effects that could be used in the treatment of mood disorder patients with suicidal ideation or behavior,” said Dr. Sanacora, professor of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. “However, there are many challenges to performing the studies that are required to more definitively demonstrate rapid and sustained improvement in suicide risks.”

The global 12-month prevalence of nonfatal suicide attempts is about 0.3% to 0.4%, and the lifetime prevalence is 3%, “which is pretty shocking,” he said. In the United States, there are more than 30 suicide attempts for each suicide death. At the same time, a World Health Organization community survey conducted in 21 countries found that the 12-month prevalence of suicidal ideation was about 2%, and that the lifetime prevalence was 9%. “These are large numbers that we’re talking about internationally,” said Dr. Sanacora, who also directs the Yale Depression Research Program. In 2013, suicidal ideation constituted nearly 1% of all adult ED visits in the United States, with conservative costs of $2.2 billion. “Every step along the process takes a large toll on the health care system and society, from the top level of completed suicide to suicidal ideation,” he said.

According to 2016 data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly 10 million people in the United States have seriously considered suicide, about 2.5 million made a plan, about 1 million attempted suicide, and about 40,000 completed suicide. “We have to think about what we’re treating,” Dr. Sanacora said. “Are we treating the suicidal ideation, or are we trying to prevent completed suicides?”

A prior history of attempted suicide is the strongest single predictive factor of a completed suicide. “In fact, the risk of dying by suicide is approximately 100 times than that of the general population within 1 year of an index attempt,” he said. Another major risk factor is having a previous psychiatric hospitalization. In fact, up to 41% of those who completed suicide had been psychiatric inpatients within the previous year, and as many as 9% of suicides occurred within 1 day of discharge from psychiatric inpatient care. Other identified risk factors include marital status, belonging to a sexual minority, occupation, military service, general medical comorbidities, diagnosis of personality disorder, chronic pain, traumatic brain injury, childhood abuse, location of residence, access to firearms, and family history of suicide. Protective factors include having a strong social support network, being a parent, and religiosity. “These are things that typically aren’t part of a treatment, but they can be woven into a treatment plan in some way,” he said.

Other identified risk symptoms include feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness, the combination of depression and anxiety, and psychosis, regardless of the specific diagnosis.

Medical stabilization constitutes the first step in the standard treatment approach to suicidal ideation and behavior. “You want to make sure the person is hospitalized and take care of any injuries that may have been sustained in the suicide attempt,” Dr. Sanacora said. The next step is reducing the immediate risks. “For the most part, that’s making sure the individual is in a safe setting commensurate with the level of risk,” he said. “You want to remove any other risks that could be around them. Then, you want to assure that an appropriate level of follow-up is provided on stepdown to lower levels of care. That year after hospitalization puts you at incredible risk, so we want to make sure we’re not just treating something in the acute phase and then not having longer-term follow-up for it.”

Existing treatments that have some evidence to help with the treatment of suicidal ideation and behavior include the use of antidepressants, lithium, and clozapine, but these agents are far from fast-acting for a patient in crisis. “In addition, a lot of docs are hesitant to give lithium because it has the potential of overdose itself,” Dr. Sanacora said. With clozapine, he continued, “there is some level of confounding by indication because, when you’re giving clozapine, it’s usually a more reliable patient, one who is not at risk of self-harm.”

The STAR*D (Sequenced Treatment Alternatives to Relieve Depression) trial demonstrated that, for the patients who do not respond to the first two levels of treatment with citalopram, their chances of having a remission by getting a third or fourth level of treatment is reduced to below 15% (Am J Psychiatry. 2006;163[1]:28-40).

“This suggests that, with our current armamentarium, we are limited,” said Dr. Sanacora, who is also codirector of the Yale New Haven Hospital Interventional Psychiatry Service. In the STAR*D trial, the time to response to citalopram was 6 weeks in 50% of patients. “So, when somebody is going through a crisis and is at imminent risk for suicide, and you tell them, ‘You’ll be 50% better in 6 weeks,’ that’s hard to swallow,” he said.

Recent studies of ketamine and esketamine have demonstrated a rapid onset of effect in patients with major depressive disorder, but whether they alter suicidal ideation and behavior remains unclear. “If you are wanting to improve suicidal ideation and behavior, what outcome measure are you using to do this?” Dr. Sanacora asked. “It may seem simple, but it’s not. To do a clinical trial, you would need large sample sizes to look at behavior as an outcome. In fact, even retrospective studies on this topic don’t have enough events to give you statistical meaning.” This leaves clinicians to consider scales that have been used for examining suicidal ideation and behavior over the years, including the MINI suicidality module, the SAD PERSONS scale, and the Suicide Intent Scale. “However, while they could have some value to be used clinically, these scales really don’t have great value as outcome measures,” Dr. Sanacora said.

There also have been attempts to develop scales that capture changes in suicidal ideation and behavior over time, including the C-SSRS (Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale) and the Sheehan Suicidality Tracking Scale. “The sad thing is, none of these measures have been proven to be very useful clinically,” he said. “They may have some level of sensitivity and specificity, but their actual predictive value is not great. So using these clinically is somewhat difficult.”

In 2018, Dr. Sanacora and his colleagues published results from a systematic review and individual participant data meta-analysis examining the effects of a single dose of ketamine on suicidal ideation (Am J Psychiatry. 2018;175[2]:150-8). The analysis included 167 participants with suicidal ideation at baseline. “Within 24 hours there was a very clear decrease in suicidal ideation in terms of clinician-reported scale,” he said. “Over 50% of patients reported having minimal or no ideation after treatment. That was maintained for 7 days.” Effect sizes were moderate to large at all time points post dose.

In the largest meta-analysis of its kind to date, researchers reviewed 15 independent trials of ketamine for suicide ideation in 572 adults with psychiatric disorders, all with a single dose of drug with varying routes and dosages (Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2020;54[1]:29-45). The researchers in that study concluded that ketamine “may have a role in acute treatment for suicidality. However, there is clearly a need for clinical measures to ensure persistence of any benefits.”

Esketamine, which was approved in March 2019 for major depressive disorder, also shows promise in patients with suicidal ideation and behavior. In a double-blind, multicenter, proof-of-concept study, researchers randomized 68 participants to receive esketamine (84 mg) or placebo twice weekly for 4 weeks, in addition to comprehensive standard-of-care treatment (Am J Psychiatry. 2018;175[7]:620-30). The primary efficacy endpoint was change in score from baseline to 4 hours after initial dose on the MADRS (Montgomery-Asberg Depression Rating Scale). “There was a nice effect in the antidepressant response, compared with placebo. It hit the primary endpoint at 4 hours. The patients got treated twice a week for 4 weeks. People got better quickly and stayed well moving on.” The researchers also found that the rate of remission at day 25 was 60% in the esketamine group, compared with 42% in the placebo group. “The take-home message is that, even without the esketamine, the remission rate was 42% at day 25. That means if you’re giving people really good care, meaning that you’re seeing them twice a week and they’re inpatient until they’re able to go outpatient, people can do pretty well with that level of care.”

Meanwhile, additional evidence supporting the use of ketamine in acute care settings is starting to emerge. In a proof-of-concept trial, 18 depressed subjects with acute suicidal ideation who presented to the emergency department and required hospitalization were randomized to either IV ketamine 0.2 mg/kg or to saline placebo (Depress Anxiety. 2019 Nov 16. doi: 10.1002/da.22975). Ninety minutes after infusion, 88% of patients in the ketamine group had achieved remission of suicidal ideation, compared with 33% in the placebo group (P less than .05). No serious adverse events were noted.

“There is a clear need for new treatments targeting suicidal ideation and behavior,” Dr. Sanacora concluded. “Any plan to institute a rapid-acting treatment for individuals with imminent risk of suicidal behavior must be placed in the context of a larger comprehensive treatment plan. Getting somebody to feel better in the short run is great, but you really have to think about the whole treatment plan.”

Dr. Sanacora reported having received grants and research support from numerous pharmaceutical companies. He also holds an ownership interest in Biohaven Pharmaceuticals.

[email protected]

LAS VEGAS – More than 10 years ago, Gerard Sanacora, PhD, MD, came across a study in the medical literature that stopped him in his tracks.

For the study, Austrian neurologist Eberhard A. Deisenhammer, MD, and colleagues sought to determine the length of the period between consideration and accomplishment of a suicide attempt (J Clin Psychiatry. 2009;70[1]:19-24). To do so, they interviewed 82 patients who were referred to a psychiatric university hospital after a suicide attempt. Nearly half of the patients (48%) reported that the period between the first current thought of suicide and the actual attempt had lasted 10 minutes or less.

“When you’re talking about treating suicide behavior, there are so many components: the impulsivity component, the resilience component – all these things that can’t be measured with a simple outcome measure,” Dr. Sanacora said at an annual psychopharmacology update held by the Nevada Psychiatric Association. “That’s one of the real challenges. It requires us to take a good look at how we’re treating these patients in general.”

It also underscores the need for new treatments that target suicidal ideation and behavior.

“There is increasing evidence that ketamine and esketamine can produce effects that could be used in the treatment of mood disorder patients with suicidal ideation or behavior,” said Dr. Sanacora, professor of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. “However, there are many challenges to performing the studies that are required to more definitively demonstrate rapid and sustained improvement in suicide risks.”

The global 12-month prevalence of nonfatal suicide attempts is about 0.3% to 0.4%, and the lifetime prevalence is 3%, “which is pretty shocking,” he said. In the United States, there are more than 30 suicide attempts for each suicide death. At the same time, a World Health Organization community survey conducted in 21 countries found that the 12-month prevalence of suicidal ideation was about 2%, and that the lifetime prevalence was 9%. “These are large numbers that we’re talking about internationally,” said Dr. Sanacora, who also directs the Yale Depression Research Program. In 2013, suicidal ideation constituted nearly 1% of all adult ED visits in the United States, with conservative costs of $2.2 billion. “Every step along the process takes a large toll on the health care system and society, from the top level of completed suicide to suicidal ideation,” he said.

According to 2016 data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly 10 million people in the United States have seriously considered suicide, about 2.5 million made a plan, about 1 million attempted suicide, and about 40,000 completed suicide. “We have to think about what we’re treating,” Dr. Sanacora said. “Are we treating the suicidal ideation, or are we trying to prevent completed suicides?”

A prior history of attempted suicide is the strongest single predictive factor of a completed suicide. “In fact, the risk of dying by suicide is approximately 100 times than that of the general population within 1 year of an index attempt,” he said. Another major risk factor is having a previous psychiatric hospitalization. In fact, up to 41% of those who completed suicide had been psychiatric inpatients within the previous year, and as many as 9% of suicides occurred within 1 day of discharge from psychiatric inpatient care. Other identified risk factors include marital status, belonging to a sexual minority, occupation, military service, general medical comorbidities, diagnosis of personality disorder, chronic pain, traumatic brain injury, childhood abuse, location of residence, access to firearms, and family history of suicide. Protective factors include having a strong social support network, being a parent, and religiosity. “These are things that typically aren’t part of a treatment, but they can be woven into a treatment plan in some way,” he said.

Other identified risk symptoms include feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness, the combination of depression and anxiety, and psychosis, regardless of the specific diagnosis.

Medical stabilization constitutes the first step in the standard treatment approach to suicidal ideation and behavior. “You want to make sure the person is hospitalized and take care of any injuries that may have been sustained in the suicide attempt,” Dr. Sanacora said. The next step is reducing the immediate risks. “For the most part, that’s making sure the individual is in a safe setting commensurate with the level of risk,” he said. “You want to remove any other risks that could be around them. Then, you want to assure that an appropriate level of follow-up is provided on stepdown to lower levels of care. That year after hospitalization puts you at incredible risk, so we want to make sure we’re not just treating something in the acute phase and then not having longer-term follow-up for it.”

Existing treatments that have some evidence to help with the treatment of suicidal ideation and behavior include the use of antidepressants, lithium, and clozapine, but these agents are far from fast-acting for a patient in crisis. “In addition, a lot of docs are hesitant to give lithium because it has the potential of overdose itself,” Dr. Sanacora said. With clozapine, he continued, “there is some level of confounding by indication because, when you’re giving clozapine, it’s usually a more reliable patient, one who is not at risk of self-harm.”

The STAR*D (Sequenced Treatment Alternatives to Relieve Depression) trial demonstrated that, for the patients who do not respond to the first two levels of treatment with citalopram, their chances of having a remission by getting a third or fourth level of treatment is reduced to below 15% (Am J Psychiatry. 2006;163[1]:28-40).

“This suggests that, with our current armamentarium, we are limited,” said Dr. Sanacora, who is also codirector of the Yale New Haven Hospital Interventional Psychiatry Service. In the STAR*D trial, the time to response to citalopram was 6 weeks in 50% of patients. “So, when somebody is going through a crisis and is at imminent risk for suicide, and you tell them, ‘You’ll be 50% better in 6 weeks,’ that’s hard to swallow,” he said.

Recent studies of ketamine and esketamine have demonstrated a rapid onset of effect in patients with major depressive disorder, but whether they alter suicidal ideation and behavior remains unclear. “If you are wanting to improve suicidal ideation and behavior, what outcome measure are you using to do this?” Dr. Sanacora asked. “It may seem simple, but it’s not. To do a clinical trial, you would need large sample sizes to look at behavior as an outcome. In fact, even retrospective studies on this topic don’t have enough events to give you statistical meaning.” This leaves clinicians to consider scales that have been used for examining suicidal ideation and behavior over the years, including the MINI suicidality module, the SAD PERSONS scale, and the Suicide Intent Scale. “However, while they could have some value to be used clinically, these scales really don’t have great value as outcome measures,” Dr. Sanacora said.

There also have been attempts to develop scales that capture changes in suicidal ideation and behavior over time, including the C-SSRS (Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale) and the Sheehan Suicidality Tracking Scale. “The sad thing is, none of these measures have been proven to be very useful clinically,” he said. “They may have some level of sensitivity and specificity, but their actual predictive value is not great. So using these clinically is somewhat difficult.”

In 2018, Dr. Sanacora and his colleagues published results from a systematic review and individual participant data meta-analysis examining the effects of a single dose of ketamine on suicidal ideation (Am J Psychiatry. 2018;175[2]:150-8). The analysis included 167 participants with suicidal ideation at baseline. “Within 24 hours there was a very clear decrease in suicidal ideation in terms of clinician-reported scale,” he said. “Over 50% of patients reported having minimal or no ideation after treatment. That was maintained for 7 days.” Effect sizes were moderate to large at all time points post dose.

In the largest meta-analysis of its kind to date, researchers reviewed 15 independent trials of ketamine for suicide ideation in 572 adults with psychiatric disorders, all with a single dose of drug with varying routes and dosages (Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2020;54[1]:29-45). The researchers in that study concluded that ketamine “may have a role in acute treatment for suicidality. However, there is clearly a need for clinical measures to ensure persistence of any benefits.”

Esketamine, which was approved in March 2019 for major depressive disorder, also shows promise in patients with suicidal ideation and behavior. In a double-blind, multicenter, proof-of-concept study, researchers randomized 68 participants to receive esketamine (84 mg) or placebo twice weekly for 4 weeks, in addition to comprehensive standard-of-care treatment (Am J Psychiatry. 2018;175[7]:620-30). The primary efficacy endpoint was change in score from baseline to 4 hours after initial dose on the MADRS (Montgomery-Asberg Depression Rating Scale). “There was a nice effect in the antidepressant response, compared with placebo. It hit the primary endpoint at 4 hours. The patients got treated twice a week for 4 weeks. People got better quickly and stayed well moving on.” The researchers also found that the rate of remission at day 25 was 60% in the esketamine group, compared with 42% in the placebo group. “The take-home message is that, even without the esketamine, the remission rate was 42% at day 25. That means if you’re giving people really good care, meaning that you’re seeing them twice a week and they’re inpatient until they’re able to go outpatient, people can do pretty well with that level of care.”

Meanwhile, additional evidence supporting the use of ketamine in acute care settings is starting to emerge. In a proof-of-concept trial, 18 depressed subjects with acute suicidal ideation who presented to the emergency department and required hospitalization were randomized to either IV ketamine 0.2 mg/kg or to saline placebo (Depress Anxiety. 2019 Nov 16. doi: 10.1002/da.22975). Ninety minutes after infusion, 88% of patients in the ketamine group had achieved remission of suicidal ideation, compared with 33% in the placebo group (P less than .05). No serious adverse events were noted.

“There is a clear need for new treatments targeting suicidal ideation and behavior,” Dr. Sanacora concluded. “Any plan to institute a rapid-acting treatment for individuals with imminent risk of suicidal behavior must be placed in the context of a larger comprehensive treatment plan. Getting somebody to feel better in the short run is great, but you really have to think about the whole treatment plan.”

Dr. Sanacora reported having received grants and research support from numerous pharmaceutical companies. He also holds an ownership interest in Biohaven Pharmaceuticals.

[email protected]

LAS VEGAS – More than 10 years ago, Gerard Sanacora, PhD, MD, came across a study in the medical literature that stopped him in his tracks.

For the study, Austrian neurologist Eberhard A. Deisenhammer, MD, and colleagues sought to determine the length of the period between consideration and accomplishment of a suicide attempt (J Clin Psychiatry. 2009;70[1]:19-24). To do so, they interviewed 82 patients who were referred to a psychiatric university hospital after a suicide attempt. Nearly half of the patients (48%) reported that the period between the first current thought of suicide and the actual attempt had lasted 10 minutes or less.

“When you’re talking about treating suicide behavior, there are so many components: the impulsivity component, the resilience component – all these things that can’t be measured with a simple outcome measure,” Dr. Sanacora said at an annual psychopharmacology update held by the Nevada Psychiatric Association. “That’s one of the real challenges. It requires us to take a good look at how we’re treating these patients in general.”

It also underscores the need for new treatments that target suicidal ideation and behavior.

“There is increasing evidence that ketamine and esketamine can produce effects that could be used in the treatment of mood disorder patients with suicidal ideation or behavior,” said Dr. Sanacora, professor of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. “However, there are many challenges to performing the studies that are required to more definitively demonstrate rapid and sustained improvement in suicide risks.”

The global 12-month prevalence of nonfatal suicide attempts is about 0.3% to 0.4%, and the lifetime prevalence is 3%, “which is pretty shocking,” he said. In the United States, there are more than 30 suicide attempts for each suicide death. At the same time, a World Health Organization community survey conducted in 21 countries found that the 12-month prevalence of suicidal ideation was about 2%, and that the lifetime prevalence was 9%. “These are large numbers that we’re talking about internationally,” said Dr. Sanacora, who also directs the Yale Depression Research Program. In 2013, suicidal ideation constituted nearly 1% of all adult ED visits in the United States, with conservative costs of $2.2 billion. “Every step along the process takes a large toll on the health care system and society, from the top level of completed suicide to suicidal ideation,” he said.

According to 2016 data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly 10 million people in the United States have seriously considered suicide, about 2.5 million made a plan, about 1 million attempted suicide, and about 40,000 completed suicide. “We have to think about what we’re treating,” Dr. Sanacora said. “Are we treating the suicidal ideation, or are we trying to prevent completed suicides?”

A prior history of attempted suicide is the strongest single predictive factor of a completed suicide. “In fact, the risk of dying by suicide is approximately 100 times than that of the general population within 1 year of an index attempt,” he said. Another major risk factor is having a previous psychiatric hospitalization. In fact, up to 41% of those who completed suicide had been psychiatric inpatients within the previous year, and as many as 9% of suicides occurred within 1 day of discharge from psychiatric inpatient care. Other identified risk factors include marital status, belonging to a sexual minority, occupation, military service, general medical comorbidities, diagnosis of personality disorder, chronic pain, traumatic brain injury, childhood abuse, location of residence, access to firearms, and family history of suicide. Protective factors include having a strong social support network, being a parent, and religiosity. “These are things that typically aren’t part of a treatment, but they can be woven into a treatment plan in some way,” he said.

Other identified risk symptoms include feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness, the combination of depression and anxiety, and psychosis, regardless of the specific diagnosis.

Medical stabilization constitutes the first step in the standard treatment approach to suicidal ideation and behavior. “You want to make sure the person is hospitalized and take care of any injuries that may have been sustained in the suicide attempt,” Dr. Sanacora said. The next step is reducing the immediate risks. “For the most part, that’s making sure the individual is in a safe setting commensurate with the level of risk,” he said. “You want to remove any other risks that could be around them. Then, you want to assure that an appropriate level of follow-up is provided on stepdown to lower levels of care. That year after hospitalization puts you at incredible risk, so we want to make sure we’re not just treating something in the acute phase and then not having longer-term follow-up for it.”

Existing treatments that have some evidence to help with the treatment of suicidal ideation and behavior include the use of antidepressants, lithium, and clozapine, but these agents are far from fast-acting for a patient in crisis. “In addition, a lot of docs are hesitant to give lithium because it has the potential of overdose itself,” Dr. Sanacora said. With clozapine, he continued, “there is some level of confounding by indication because, when you’re giving clozapine, it’s usually a more reliable patient, one who is not at risk of self-harm.”

The STAR*D (Sequenced Treatment Alternatives to Relieve Depression) trial demonstrated that, for the patients who do not respond to the first two levels of treatment with citalopram, their chances of having a remission by getting a third or fourth level of treatment is reduced to below 15% (Am J Psychiatry. 2006;163[1]:28-40).

“This suggests that, with our current armamentarium, we are limited,” said Dr. Sanacora, who is also codirector of the Yale New Haven Hospital Interventional Psychiatry Service. In the STAR*D trial, the time to response to citalopram was 6 weeks in 50% of patients. “So, when somebody is going through a crisis and is at imminent risk for suicide, and you tell them, ‘You’ll be 50% better in 6 weeks,’ that’s hard to swallow,” he said.

Recent studies of ketamine and esketamine have demonstrated a rapid onset of effect in patients with major depressive disorder, but whether they alter suicidal ideation and behavior remains unclear. “If you are wanting to improve suicidal ideation and behavior, what outcome measure are you using to do this?” Dr. Sanacora asked. “It may seem simple, but it’s not. To do a clinical trial, you would need large sample sizes to look at behavior as an outcome. In fact, even retrospective studies on this topic don’t have enough events to give you statistical meaning.” This leaves clinicians to consider scales that have been used for examining suicidal ideation and behavior over the years, including the MINI suicidality module, the SAD PERSONS scale, and the Suicide Intent Scale. “However, while they could have some value to be used clinically, these scales really don’t have great value as outcome measures,” Dr. Sanacora said.

There also have been attempts to develop scales that capture changes in suicidal ideation and behavior over time, including the C-SSRS (Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale) and the Sheehan Suicidality Tracking Scale. “The sad thing is, none of these measures have been proven to be very useful clinically,” he said. “They may have some level of sensitivity and specificity, but their actual predictive value is not great. So using these clinically is somewhat difficult.”

In 2018, Dr. Sanacora and his colleagues published results from a systematic review and individual participant data meta-analysis examining the effects of a single dose of ketamine on suicidal ideation (Am J Psychiatry. 2018;175[2]:150-8). The analysis included 167 participants with suicidal ideation at baseline. “Within 24 hours there was a very clear decrease in suicidal ideation in terms of clinician-reported scale,” he said. “Over 50% of patients reported having minimal or no ideation after treatment. That was maintained for 7 days.” Effect sizes were moderate to large at all time points post dose.

In the largest meta-analysis of its kind to date, researchers reviewed 15 independent trials of ketamine for suicide ideation in 572 adults with psychiatric disorders, all with a single dose of drug with varying routes and dosages (Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2020;54[1]:29-45). The researchers in that study concluded that ketamine “may have a role in acute treatment for suicidality. However, there is clearly a need for clinical measures to ensure persistence of any benefits.”

Esketamine, which was approved in March 2019 for major depressive disorder, also shows promise in patients with suicidal ideation and behavior. In a double-blind, multicenter, proof-of-concept study, researchers randomized 68 participants to receive esketamine (84 mg) or placebo twice weekly for 4 weeks, in addition to comprehensive standard-of-care treatment (Am J Psychiatry. 2018;175[7]:620-30). The primary efficacy endpoint was change in score from baseline to 4 hours after initial dose on the MADRS (Montgomery-Asberg Depression Rating Scale). “There was a nice effect in the antidepressant response, compared with placebo. It hit the primary endpoint at 4 hours. The patients got treated twice a week for 4 weeks. People got better quickly and stayed well moving on.” The researchers also found that the rate of remission at day 25 was 60% in the esketamine group, compared with 42% in the placebo group. “The take-home message is that, even without the esketamine, the remission rate was 42% at day 25. That means if you’re giving people really good care, meaning that you’re seeing them twice a week and they’re inpatient until they’re able to go outpatient, people can do pretty well with that level of care.”

Meanwhile, additional evidence supporting the use of ketamine in acute care settings is starting to emerge. In a proof-of-concept trial, 18 depressed subjects with acute suicidal ideation who presented to the emergency department and required hospitalization were randomized to either IV ketamine 0.2 mg/kg or to saline placebo (Depress Anxiety. 2019 Nov 16. doi: 10.1002/da.22975). Ninety minutes after infusion, 88% of patients in the ketamine group had achieved remission of suicidal ideation, compared with 33% in the placebo group (P less than .05). No serious adverse events were noted.

“There is a clear need for new treatments targeting suicidal ideation and behavior,” Dr. Sanacora concluded. “Any plan to institute a rapid-acting treatment for individuals with imminent risk of suicidal behavior must be placed in the context of a larger comprehensive treatment plan. Getting somebody to feel better in the short run is great, but you really have to think about the whole treatment plan.”

Dr. Sanacora reported having received grants and research support from numerous pharmaceutical companies. He also holds an ownership interest in Biohaven Pharmaceuticals.

[email protected]

The Food and Drug Administration has issued a Drug Safety Communication that strengthens existing warnings about serious mood- and behavior-related changes associated with montelukast (Singulair), a prescription drug for asthma and allergy.

The new boxed warning advises health care providers to avoid prescribing montelukast for patients with mild symptoms, particularly those with allergic rhinitis, the FDA said in a press release. The drug was first approved in 1998, and the product labeling was updated in 2008 to include information about neuropsychiatric adverse events reported with usage of montelukast.

While the Sentinel study, along with other observational studies, did not find an increased risk of mental health side effects with montelukast treatment, compared with inhaled corticosteroids, those studies had limitations that may have affected results, the FDA said in the Drug Safety Communication. However, the FDA has continued to receive reports of neuropsychiatric events – including agitation, depression, sleeping problems, and suicidal thoughts and actions – in patients receiving the medication.

“The incidence of neuropsychiatric events associated with montelukast is unknown, but some reports are serious, and many patients and health care professionals are not fully aware of these risks,” Sally Seymour, MD, director of the division of pulmonary, allergy and rheumatology products in the FDA’s Center for Drug Evaluation and Research, said in the press release. “There are many other safe and effective medications to treat allergies with extensive history of use and safety, such that many products are available over the counter without a prescription.”

In addition to the boxed warning, the FDA now requires a new medication guide to be given to patients with each montelukast prescription, the FDA said.

[email protected]

The Food and Drug Administration has issued a Drug Safety Communication that strengthens existing warnings about serious mood- and behavior-related changes associated with montelukast (Singulair), a prescription drug for asthma and allergy.

The new boxed warning advises health care providers to avoid prescribing montelukast for patients with mild symptoms, particularly those with allergic rhinitis, the FDA said in a press release. The drug was first approved in 1998, and the product labeling was updated in 2008 to include information about neuropsychiatric adverse events reported with usage of montelukast.

While the Sentinel study, along with other observational studies, did not find an increased risk of mental health side effects with montelukast treatment, compared with inhaled corticosteroids, those studies had limitations that may have affected results, the FDA said in the Drug Safety Communication. However, the FDA has continued to receive reports of neuropsychiatric events – including agitation, depression, sleeping problems, and suicidal thoughts and actions – in patients receiving the medication.

“The incidence of neuropsychiatric events associated with montelukast is unknown, but some reports are serious, and many patients and health care professionals are not fully aware of these risks,” Sally Seymour, MD, director of the division of pulmonary, allergy and rheumatology products in the FDA’s Center for Drug Evaluation and Research, said in the press release. “There are many other safe and effective medications to treat allergies with extensive history of use and safety, such that many products are available over the counter without a prescription.”

In addition to the boxed warning, the FDA now requires a new medication guide to be given to patients with each montelukast prescription, the FDA said.

[email protected]

The Food and Drug Administration has issued a Drug Safety Communication that strengthens existing warnings about serious mood- and behavior-related changes associated with montelukast (Singulair), a prescription drug for asthma and allergy.

The new boxed warning advises health care providers to avoid prescribing montelukast for patients with mild symptoms, particularly those with allergic rhinitis, the FDA said in a press release. The drug was first approved in 1998, and the product labeling was updated in 2008 to include information about neuropsychiatric adverse events reported with usage of montelukast.

While the Sentinel study, along with other observational studies, did not find an increased risk of mental health side effects with montelukast treatment, compared with inhaled corticosteroids, those studies had limitations that may have affected results, the FDA said in the Drug Safety Communication. However, the FDA has continued to receive reports of neuropsychiatric events – including agitation, depression, sleeping problems, and suicidal thoughts and actions – in patients receiving the medication.

“The incidence of neuropsychiatric events associated with montelukast is unknown, but some reports are serious, and many patients and health care professionals are not fully aware of these risks,” Sally Seymour, MD, director of the division of pulmonary, allergy and rheumatology products in the FDA’s Center for Drug Evaluation and Research, said in the press release. “There are many other safe and effective medications to treat allergies with extensive history of use and safety, such that many products are available over the counter without a prescription.”

In addition to the boxed warning, the FDA now requires a new medication guide to be given to patients with each montelukast prescription, the FDA said.

[email protected]

We are in the healing profession. We practice a trade. We are doctors, therapists, counselors. We work with children, adults, and couples. We document the physical form of our patient after examination, setting the stage for interventions that heal and alleviate suffering. With those who we do not touch physically, we hold out our psychological arms to embrace them in a therapeutic relationship.

We are privileged to appreciate their deeper selves through voice, unsaid words, and body language. A trust evolves (or might not); deeper exploration where our intuition and technical skill discover what troubles the soul. Healing begins as a delicate dance: As trust is earned, our patients risk vulnerability by revealing their weakest selves.

As healers, we often find ourselves adrift with our own insecurities, our own histories that make us human; our styles may differ but training and the tenets and guidelines set by our professional societies keep us in safe waters. These guidelines are informed by the science of health care research and vetted through centuries of observation and experience of process. “Do no harm” is perhaps one of the major rules of engaging with patients. The scaffolding that our code of ethics provides healing professions trumps external pressures to deviate. If you violate these codes, the consequences are borne by the patient and the potential loss of your license.

Some of you may have read about Kevin Euceda, an adolescent who reportedly was waiting for his immigration interview and ordered to undergo mandatory therapy as part of the immigration protocol. Kevin revealed to his therapist the history of violence he experienced as a child growing up in Honduras. His subsequent initiation into a gang was the only option he had to escape a violent death. Those of us who work with youth from gang cultures know fully that allegiance to a gang is a means to find an identity and brotherhood with the payment by a lifestyle of violence. A therapist faced with this information does not judge but helps the person deal with PTSD, nightmares, and guilt that become part of an identity just as the memories of mines blowing up in the face of combat affect veterans.

But the therapist, who reportedly holds a master’s in rehabilitation counseling and was “a year away from passing her licensing exam,” according to an article published in the Washington Post, followed policy of the Office of Refugee Resettlement. The therapist betrayed Kevin by reporting the information he shared with her confidentially to Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The reason the therapist gave for the breach was that she was compelled do so because Kevin reported participating in gang activity in Honduras. Subsequently, Kevin was sent to a high-security detention center – and is now facing deportation.
 

Betraying a patient, profession

Therapy begins as a contract between patient and therapist. The contract stipulates that all that transpires in the process of therapy (usually a 50-minute block of time, usually weekly) is information held by the therapist and patient – and is not to be shared with anyone, including parents, guardians, legal entities, and health care agencies. This allows the gradual sharing of events, emotions, behaviors, and reactions akin to peeling an onion. Memories, reactions, and feelings assist the therapist as they start their quest of discovery of the conflict and how to resolve it. Trust is the central tenet of this journey. The patient thinks: “You will hear me; you will see me you will understand me and help me understand myself.” The doctor responds: “Even I don’t yet know fully what ails you; we will discover that together. … I will not fail your trust.”

So how does this interface with external pressures? The constitution of a free country provides some inviolable protections that prevent derailment of the codes of ethics based on science. The fine line between what are considered sacrosanct ethics of a field – be it health care, climatology, or architecture – and what could be sacrificed in the name of prevailing forces (political or otherwise) has to be under constant scrutiny by the members of the guild. In health care, when patients cannot trust the science, its implementation, or is let down by the clinician, they are unlikely to benefit from treatment. A foundation of distrust paves the way for future therapeutic relationships that are stained with distrust and noncompliance.

The ethics guidelines of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law specify that psychiatrists in forensic roles “should be clear about limitations on confidentiality in the treatment relationship and ensure that these limitations are communicated to the patient.” Again, the therapist in this case is not a psychiatrist, but I would argue that the same rules would apply.

It is reassuring to know that several key groups, including the American Psychiatric Association, American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, and the American Psychological Association, have all condemned the therapist’s actions. Psychiatrists and other mental health professionals must do no harm. We must not stand idly by and allow the kind of professional breach that happened to Kevin continue. Patients who confide in mental health professionals with the promise of confidentiality must be able to do so without fear. Only with confidentiality can the therapeutic relationship thrive.

Dr. Sood is professor of psychiatry and pediatrics, and senior professor of child mental health policy, at Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond.

We are in the healing profession. We practice a trade. We are doctors, therapists, counselors. We work with children, adults, and couples. We document the physical form of our patient after examination, setting the stage for interventions that heal and alleviate suffering. With those who we do not touch physically, we hold out our psychological arms to embrace them in a therapeutic relationship.

We are privileged to appreciate their deeper selves through voice, unsaid words, and body language. A trust evolves (or might not); deeper exploration where our intuition and technical skill discover what troubles the soul. Healing begins as a delicate dance: As trust is earned, our patients risk vulnerability by revealing their weakest selves.

As healers, we often find ourselves adrift with our own insecurities, our own histories that make us human; our styles may differ but training and the tenets and guidelines set by our professional societies keep us in safe waters. These guidelines are informed by the science of health care research and vetted through centuries of observation and experience of process. “Do no harm” is perhaps one of the major rules of engaging with patients. The scaffolding that our code of ethics provides healing professions trumps external pressures to deviate. If you violate these codes, the consequences are borne by the patient and the potential loss of your license.

Some of you may have read about Kevin Euceda, an adolescent who reportedly was waiting for his immigration interview and ordered to undergo mandatory therapy as part of the immigration protocol. Kevin revealed to his therapist the history of violence he experienced as a child growing up in Honduras. His subsequent initiation into a gang was the only option he had to escape a violent death. Those of us who work with youth from gang cultures know fully that allegiance to a gang is a means to find an identity and brotherhood with the payment by a lifestyle of violence. A therapist faced with this information does not judge but helps the person deal with PTSD, nightmares, and guilt that become part of an identity just as the memories of mines blowing up in the face of combat affect veterans.

But the therapist, who reportedly holds a master’s in rehabilitation counseling and was “a year away from passing her licensing exam,” according to an article published in the Washington Post, followed policy of the Office of Refugee Resettlement. The therapist betrayed Kevin by reporting the information he shared with her confidentially to Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The reason the therapist gave for the breach was that she was compelled do so because Kevin reported participating in gang activity in Honduras. Subsequently, Kevin was sent to a high-security detention center – and is now facing deportation.
 

Betraying a patient, profession

Therapy begins as a contract between patient and therapist. The contract stipulates that all that transpires in the process of therapy (usually a 50-minute block of time, usually weekly) is information held by the therapist and patient – and is not to be shared with anyone, including parents, guardians, legal entities, and health care agencies. This allows the gradual sharing of events, emotions, behaviors, and reactions akin to peeling an onion. Memories, reactions, and feelings assist the therapist as they start their quest of discovery of the conflict and how to resolve it. Trust is the central tenet of this journey. The patient thinks: “You will hear me; you will see me you will understand me and help me understand myself.” The doctor responds: “Even I don’t yet know fully what ails you; we will discover that together. … I will not fail your trust.”

So how does this interface with external pressures? The constitution of a free country provides some inviolable protections that prevent derailment of the codes of ethics based on science. The fine line between what are considered sacrosanct ethics of a field – be it health care, climatology, or architecture – and what could be sacrificed in the name of prevailing forces (political or otherwise) has to be under constant scrutiny by the members of the guild. In health care, when patients cannot trust the science, its implementation, or is let down by the clinician, they are unlikely to benefit from treatment. A foundation of distrust paves the way for future therapeutic relationships that are stained with distrust and noncompliance.

The ethics guidelines of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law specify that psychiatrists in forensic roles “should be clear about limitations on confidentiality in the treatment relationship and ensure that these limitations are communicated to the patient.” Again, the therapist in this case is not a psychiatrist, but I would argue that the same rules would apply.

It is reassuring to know that several key groups, including the American Psychiatric Association, American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, and the American Psychological Association, have all condemned the therapist’s actions. Psychiatrists and other mental health professionals must do no harm. We must not stand idly by and allow the kind of professional breach that happened to Kevin continue. Patients who confide in mental health professionals with the promise of confidentiality must be able to do so without fear. Only with confidentiality can the therapeutic relationship thrive.

Dr. Sood is professor of psychiatry and pediatrics, and senior professor of child mental health policy, at Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond.

We are in the healing profession. We practice a trade. We are doctors, therapists, counselors. We work with children, adults, and couples. We document the physical form of our patient after examination, setting the stage for interventions that heal and alleviate suffering. With those who we do not touch physically, we hold out our psychological arms to embrace them in a therapeutic relationship.

We are privileged to appreciate their deeper selves through voice, unsaid words, and body language. A trust evolves (or might not); deeper exploration where our intuition and technical skill discover what troubles the soul. Healing begins as a delicate dance: As trust is earned, our patients risk vulnerability by revealing their weakest selves.

As healers, we often find ourselves adrift with our own insecurities, our own histories that make us human; our styles may differ but training and the tenets and guidelines set by our professional societies keep us in safe waters. These guidelines are informed by the science of health care research and vetted through centuries of observation and experience of process. “Do no harm” is perhaps one of the major rules of engaging with patients. The scaffolding that our code of ethics provides healing professions trumps external pressures to deviate. If you violate these codes, the consequences are borne by the patient and the potential loss of your license.

Some of you may have read about Kevin Euceda, an adolescent who reportedly was waiting for his immigration interview and ordered to undergo mandatory therapy as part of the immigration protocol. Kevin revealed to his therapist the history of violence he experienced as a child growing up in Honduras. His subsequent initiation into a gang was the only option he had to escape a violent death. Those of us who work with youth from gang cultures know fully that allegiance to a gang is a means to find an identity and brotherhood with the payment by a lifestyle of violence. A therapist faced with this information does not judge but helps the person deal with PTSD, nightmares, and guilt that become part of an identity just as the memories of mines blowing up in the face of combat affect veterans.

But the therapist, who reportedly holds a master’s in rehabilitation counseling and was “a year away from passing her licensing exam,” according to an article published in the Washington Post, followed policy of the Office of Refugee Resettlement. The therapist betrayed Kevin by reporting the information he shared with her confidentially to Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The reason the therapist gave for the breach was that she was compelled do so because Kevin reported participating in gang activity in Honduras. Subsequently, Kevin was sent to a high-security detention center – and is now facing deportation.
 

Betraying a patient, profession

Therapy begins as a contract between patient and therapist. The contract stipulates that all that transpires in the process of therapy (usually a 50-minute block of time, usually weekly) is information held by the therapist and patient – and is not to be shared with anyone, including parents, guardians, legal entities, and health care agencies. This allows the gradual sharing of events, emotions, behaviors, and reactions akin to peeling an onion. Memories, reactions, and feelings assist the therapist as they start their quest of discovery of the conflict and how to resolve it. Trust is the central tenet of this journey. The patient thinks: “You will hear me; you will see me you will understand me and help me understand myself.” The doctor responds: “Even I don’t yet know fully what ails you; we will discover that together. … I will not fail your trust.”

So how does this interface with external pressures? The constitution of a free country provides some inviolable protections that prevent derailment of the codes of ethics based on science. The fine line between what are considered sacrosanct ethics of a field – be it health care, climatology, or architecture – and what could be sacrificed in the name of prevailing forces (political or otherwise) has to be under constant scrutiny by the members of the guild. In health care, when patients cannot trust the science, its implementation, or is let down by the clinician, they are unlikely to benefit from treatment. A foundation of distrust paves the way for future therapeutic relationships that are stained with distrust and noncompliance.

The ethics guidelines of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law specify that psychiatrists in forensic roles “should be clear about limitations on confidentiality in the treatment relationship and ensure that these limitations are communicated to the patient.” Again, the therapist in this case is not a psychiatrist, but I would argue that the same rules would apply.

It is reassuring to know that several key groups, including the American Psychiatric Association, American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, and the American Psychological Association, have all condemned the therapist’s actions. Psychiatrists and other mental health professionals must do no harm. We must not stand idly by and allow the kind of professional breach that happened to Kevin continue. Patients who confide in mental health professionals with the promise of confidentiality must be able to do so without fear. Only with confidentiality can the therapeutic relationship thrive.

Dr. Sood is professor of psychiatry and pediatrics, and senior professor of child mental health policy, at Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond.