stuck with me…

Posted on Sunday 11 September 2016

Unless you’re a race car driver with a manual transmission, you don’t notice the dashboard gauge on the far right. You just glance at the speedometer on the left that tells you how fast you’re going [mph]. The tachometer on the right tells you how fast the motor’s turning [rpm]. It lets the speed demon know to shift before it gets "in the red" or the motor will self destruct.

    It was an example I used in a lecture in the 1970’s for new residents called "Crisis Intervention: A Psychotherapy". The thumbnail version goes like this: Anxiety is our built-in early warning system to alert us to danger. If you’re a rabbit in the woods and hear a twig snap, the anxiety system focuses your attention, alerting you that there may be a predator about and mobilizes you to run for your life. It’s the same with bipeds – anxiety mobilizing our attention and emergency coping skills. But if those fight or flight mechanisms don’t work and the danger persists, there may come a point where the problem changes. Instead of the anxiety helping us mobilize to solve our problem, the emotion itself becomes overwhelming and becomes the problem itself. We call it panic, or terror, something dire – it’s a crisis – and all we can think about is escaping the intolerable emotion. We’re running "in the red."

    People on the top of a burning building often jump to their deaths even if they see the fireman’s ladder coming up to save them. Panicking soldiers leave their foxholes and go running across the battlefield, becoming sure targets. Crisis emotions really are intolerable, and people do irrational things just to feel better. Worse, instead of learning a new coping skill when faced with a problem they can’t solve, they may develop an avoidant phobia for the situation, or learn a maladaptive pattern that persists. So when you see a person in crisis, it’s a marker that they’re in a situation they have no skill to handle and they are likely to act irrationally. And while it’s a great opportunity for learning something new, there’s a very real danger of acting irrationally and learning something unhelpful.

    So the goal as a crisis interventionist isn’t necessarily to solve their problem, nor is it to just get rid of the intolerable feeling. It’s to do something to dial the emotion down into the tolerable range, to help them clearly identify the problem at hand, and if possible figure out why they ended up in a dysfunctional panic state rather than staying in the problem-solving mode. Obviously, if the problem is something that would discombobulate anyone, like a natural disaster or an assault, you will lean way into the patient and help in any way possible. But in many cases, the crisis state has something to do with the patient’s unique life experience.

The reason I was thinking about an ancient lecture from my teaching-residents days was a person I saw in the clinic last week. A counselor had come to my office with a worried look, saying she’d seen a patient who might be suicidal. We don’t see many "crisis" patients in our outpatient clinic. This is a fictionalized-for-privacy version that hopefully retains the flavor of the case:

    She was an unusual looking 56 y/o who appeared younger. She was agitated, and complained of having "that feeling" she’d had years before when she’d attempted suicide by shooting herself in the chest. She recalled "that feeling" from two other times in her life resulting in brief psychiatric hospitalizations. She had moved to our area a year or so ago after divorcing her second husband – living alone, supported by a monthly check from her first husband. She knew no one here, and was emphatic that she didn’t want to get to know anyone. She had been depressed for several months and had been tried on several antidepressants by her primary care doctor [currently on Prozac 80mg/day] without much effect. She’d gotten "that feeling" – escalating over the previous week.

    Like most people in crisis, she wasn’t at all forthcoming with her history, preferring to talk about needing to get rid of "that feeling" – afraid of what she might do. So at first, getting the history took some real doing. When I inquired about her marriages, she said they’d lasted 28 years and 12 years respectively with 4 kids by the first husband, now grown, "scattered," and doing well. She had initiated both divorces, the first so she could be with the man who became her second husband. One of the things that came later in that lecture about Crisis Intervention was the importance of constructing a timeline. Here, I’d done my math: 56 years [her age] – 28 years [her first marriage] – 12 years [her second marriage] – 2 years ["a year or so"] = 14 years old. So I asked, "Why did you get married so young?" She responded, "I was just barely 15" and finally volunteered her story.

    She was adopted and in an unusual way. She was Japanese. Her adoptive father was stationed in Japan and brought her home as an "orphan" to his wife at age two. The adoptive couple had talked about adopting "a boy," but he brought her instead. When she was older, she’d figured out that she was only half Japanese ["unusual looking"] and that he was actually her biological father, but "he’d never admit it." She was mistreated as a child [I’ll omit the details] and consciously married [became pregnant] to escape. While she was grateful to her husband for the rescue, she was never happily married. The three episodes of "that feeling" were marital crises when she "couldn’t stay and she couldn’t leave." After her kids were grown, she met future husband number two and thought she could finally "be happy." When he turned out to have some deal-breaking problems of his own, she "gave up" – defeated. The "depression" she presented to her primary care doctor would be better characterized as an embittered loneliness.

    So where was the crisis? A month earlier, she’d signed up on a dating web site and met someone that she really liked. A week ago, he’d begun to press for them to meet in person. Caught between hope and fear, she was overwhelmed with the weight of her biography and experience, and presented in crisis.

I would anticipate that she’ll do well. She’d learned in her recent isolation that she could, in fact, live alone. She had reached out [the dating site, coming to the clinic] instead of acting out. She made a good connection with me and the counselor, and scheduled follow-up appointments. She had never put her narrative together before as above. She’d seen her struggles as just a bad fate rather than a threaded story she could understand and perhaps do something about.

Obviously, the case stuck with me. Partly, it was the nostalgia of an old man [me] being reminded of my first job a director of a Crisis Unit, and later teaching crisis intervention techniques to residents and trainees from other disciplines. I really enjoyed working with them as they developed "the knack" of doing this kind of interview. Some were "naturals," some took a lot of work, and a few… well it’s just not for everyone. Crisis Intervention was a vital component of the Community Mental Health Movement [secondary prevention], but now it’s rarely even mentioned. A lot of the cases I see in our clinic are not in full blown crisis, but they still need that same kind of "sorting out" to get anywhere. But I put it here for another reason. I got to thinking about how such a case might be handled now in some of the currently proposed systems.

I suppose some would see this as treatment resistant depression. She had a history of depressions and she’d presented complaining about being depressed. She hadn’t responded to antidepressant drugs – even titrated to a maximum dose. Would she be a Ketamine candidate? Atypical Antipsychotics? CBT? What would’ve happened in Collaborative Care? When she didn’t respond to drugs from the Primary Care Clinician, she would’ve been passed on to the Clinical Coordinator. Would that Clinical Coordinator have known how to evaluate her? had the experience and training to get at the pertinent story? know how to take a focused history? And when the Coordinator presented the case to me as the consultant Psychiatrist, what could I possibly suggest without having that story, without seeing the patient?

I can’t, by any stretch of the imagination, find a way to see this as a brain problem. And I’ve never had any idea how to describe cases like this in DSM terms. I just wonder what happens to people like her in today’s managed mental health climate….
  1.  
    Elaine Saleh
    September 11, 2016 | 9:43 PM
     

    Thank you for this. It addresses what is wrong with collaborative care exactly on point. As a psychiatrist our training in interviewing is a large part of the value that we bring to any case. It’s inextricably linked to the assessment. An assessment without an interview isn’t any kind of medical care. Anyone can apply an algorithm if the assessment is accurate (setting aside the limitations of those). So much poor care results from the already inadequate time given to getting good history. Under collaborative care the psychiatrist never even takes the history. I can’t fathom why this is being proposed as the path forward.

  2.  
    Bernard Carroll
    September 12, 2016 | 12:40 AM
     

    These issues trace back to the methodologic imperialism that followed DSM-III. Spitzer paid lip service to the provisional nature of the diagnostic criteria sets in DSM-III, even calling them hypotheses to be tested, but once they were released the guild of psychiatry and research bodies like NIMH tolerated little debate, and the criteria were enshrined as givens. That in turn set the stage for simplistic disease mongering through misguided screening programs, and for the move towards what Dr. Mickey calls collabo-care. Everything in collabo-care is dumbed down to algorithms that rest for their validity and usefulness on a missing element – experienced diagnosticians.

    Ironically, Spitzer himself at one time understood the need for clinical experience. Here he is in 1975: “It is important to realize that the use of specified criteria does not eliminate clinical judgment. The proper use of such criteria requires a considerable amount of clinical experience and knowledge of psychopathology because the criteria involve clinical concepts rather than a mere enumeration of complaints or observations of atomistic behaviors. The degree to which an experienced clinician would feel restricted by these criteria is unknown, as is the degree to which diagnoses made without the criteria would differ from those made with them. In any case, the criteria that may be listed in DSM-III would be “suggested” only, and any clinician would be free to use them or ignore them as he saw fit.”

  3.  
    James OBrien, M.D.
    September 12, 2016 | 9:40 AM
     

    Collabo-care is ineffective bureaucrats deciding that Ineffective bureaucracy at a lower level is an effective way to deal with problems. It’s magical thinking and a fetish.

  4.  
    September 12, 2016 | 9:43 PM
     

    Thanks for that report Mickey. It sounds like you made an important difference in that person’s life.

    This article I found a few minutes ago adds weight to how our profession’s insistence that the story doesn’t matter is having a negative effect.

    Accuracy of Depression Screening Tools to Detect Major Depression in Children and Adolescents
    A Systematic Review
    Can J Psychiatry May 27, 2016

    The conclusion in the abstract was:
    Conclusions: There is insufficient evidence that any depression screening tool and cut-off accurately screens for MDD in children and adolescents. Screening could lead to overdiagnosis and the consumption of scarce health care resources.

    (not to mention the people harmed by the overtreatment)

    http://cpa.sagepub.com/content/early/2016/05/25/0706743716651833.abstract

  5.  
    Catalyzt
    September 13, 2016 | 11:47 PM
     

    Fantastic post– not that the other threads weren’t, but this one really spoke to me, and since you posed a question, I thought I would try answering. Here is what happens, or was happening, or might have happened a few years ago, in the collaborative care environment when a client comes in for a crisis assessment.

    * Intern is working on endless paperwork, gets tapped on shoulder by client liaison, asked if he/she can work a crisis assessment. Intern needs hours for licensing application, says sure. (Crisis assessments are limited to 20 minutes.)

    * Intern meets with client, asks about statement that client made on intake form stating client was suicidal. Client is older than intern, does not confirm or deny statement. Fortunately, intern really, really needs hours, gets along well with client, so extends 20 minutes to 53.

    * Intern knocks on door of supervisor, presents case as coherently as possible in 90 seconds. Supervisor asks, “What is the crisis?” Intern says client broke up with boyfriend/girlfriend. Supervisor says, “That’s not a crisis.” Intern tries again, multiple times, finally stumbling over the idea that client wants to go off antibiotics so they can “just disappear.” (Whether this would result in death is problematic.) Supervisor sighs, rolls her eyes and approves 6 sessions of crisis and insists on psych referral b/c client is “depressed.”

    * Intern hurriedly schedules appointment with client, scribbles out incoherent no-suicide contract, leaves consulting room at 59 minutes, infuriating the next intern who needs the room.

    * After 6 minute psych eval, psychiatrist and intern consult in hallway for 13 minutes, making both of them late for next appointment. The bargaining is quick but efficient– they have played this game before– psychiatrist opens with 60 mg. of Prozac, but Intern eventually beats him down to 150 of Wellbutrin. Psychiatrist hammers intern with questions– what about this part of history, what was client like before, what were all relevant events in the last 90 days.

    * Client and intern meet for session two, client says he/she hates the medication. Intern says he can’t provide advice on dosing, but is allowed to ask about side effects– are there any? Client says no, he/she just hates taking medication. Intern keeps asking– are you SURE there are no side effects? Client notes that he/she might have felt a little dizzy. Intern notes absently that he can’t force client to take medication, changes subject.

    * Client stops medication after three doses; intern informs psychiatrist, who really doesn’t care that much at this point, but who always finds a few minutes to discuss the case.

    And on it goes… six sessions get extended to 12. Client is doing a little better, finishes prescription for antibiotics, is visiting with friends and family, no one is sure exactly what interventions are working or why.

    Intern asks to see client for full 26 session tour, clinical director rejects this as “jumping the line” for services. However, anticipating this very problem, intern had instructed client to get on wait list six weeks ago– client reaches the top of the list at 14 weeks, only one week gap in treatment. Intern, remembering what psychiatrist asked, keeps hammering away at history, and eventually figures out that before intake appointment, the client, who is 69 years old, had never been sick a day before in his or her life.

    Client and intern spend several weeks reviewing the meaning of illness for client in terms of relevant family history. Therapist normalizes illness as part of development and personal growth, client terminates on schedule reporting no more SI.

    We find a way.

    We always do.

    We always will.

  6.  
    September 14, 2016 | 6:10 AM
     

    Great comment! Thanks for being candid…

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.