Residents' Voices

Our world has radically changed during the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) crisis, and this impact has quickly transformed many lives. Whether you’re on the front lines of the COVID-19 pandemic or waiting in eager anticipation to return to practice, there is no denying that a few months ago we could never have imagined the health care and humanitarian crisis that is now before us. While we are united in our longing for a better time, we couldn’t be further apart socially and emotionally … and I’m not just talking about 6 feet.

One thing that has been truly striking to me is the silence. While experts have suggested there is a “silent pandemic” of mental illness on the horizon,¹ I’ve been struck by the actual silence that exists as we walk through our stores and neighborhoods. We’re not speaking to each other anymore; it’s almost as if we’re afraid to make eye contact with one another.

Humans are social creatures, and the isolation that many people are experiencing during this pandemic could have detrimental and lasting effects if we don’t take action. While I highly encourage and support efforts to employ social distancing and mitigate the spread of this illness, I’m increasingly concerned about another kind of truly silent pandemic brewing beneath the surface of the COVID-19 crisis. Even under the best conditions, many individuals with posttraumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and other psychiatric disorders may lack adequate social interaction and experience feelings of isolation. These individuals need connection—not silence.

What happens to people who already felt intense isolation before COVID-19 and may have had invaluable lifelines cut off during this time of social distancing? What about individuals with alcohol or substance use disorders, or families who are sheltered in place in unsafe or violent home conditions? How can they reach out in silence? How can we help?

Fostering human connection

To address this, we must actively work to engage our patients and communities. One simple way to help is to acknowledge the people you encounter. Yes, stay 6 feet apart, and wear appropriate personal protective equipment. However, it is still OK to smile and greet someone with a nod, a smile, or a “hello.” A genuine smile can still be seen in someone’s eyes. We need these types of human connection, perhaps now more than ever before. We need each other.

Most importantly, during this time, we need to be aware of individuals who are most at risk in this silent pandemic. We can offer our patients appointments via video conferencing. We can use texting, e-mail, social media, phone calls, and video conferencing to check in with our families, friends, and neighbors. We’re at war with a terrible foe, but let’s not let the human connection become collateral damage.

Our world has radically changed during the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) crisis, and this impact has quickly transformed many lives. Whether you’re on the front lines of the COVID-19 pandemic or waiting in eager anticipation to return to practice, there is no denying that a few months ago we could never have imagined the health care and humanitarian crisis that is now before us. While we are united in our longing for a better time, we couldn’t be further apart socially and emotionally … and I’m not just talking about 6 feet.

One thing that has been truly striking to me is the silence. While experts have suggested there is a “silent pandemic” of mental illness on the horizon,¹ I’ve been struck by the actual silence that exists as we walk through our stores and neighborhoods. We’re not speaking to each other anymore; it’s almost as if we’re afraid to make eye contact with one another.

Humans are social creatures, and the isolation that many people are experiencing during this pandemic could have detrimental and lasting effects if we don’t take action. While I highly encourage and support efforts to employ social distancing and mitigate the spread of this illness, I’m increasingly concerned about another kind of truly silent pandemic brewing beneath the surface of the COVID-19 crisis. Even under the best conditions, many individuals with posttraumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and other psychiatric disorders may lack adequate social interaction and experience feelings of isolation. These individuals need connection—not silence.

What happens to people who already felt intense isolation before COVID-19 and may have had invaluable lifelines cut off during this time of social distancing? What about individuals with alcohol or substance use disorders, or families who are sheltered in place in unsafe or violent home conditions? How can they reach out in silence? How can we help?

Fostering human connection

To address this, we must actively work to engage our patients and communities. One simple way to help is to acknowledge the people you encounter. Yes, stay 6 feet apart, and wear appropriate personal protective equipment. However, it is still OK to smile and greet someone with a nod, a smile, or a “hello.” A genuine smile can still be seen in someone’s eyes. We need these types of human connection, perhaps now more than ever before. We need each other.

Most importantly, during this time, we need to be aware of individuals who are most at risk in this silent pandemic. We can offer our patients appointments via video conferencing. We can use texting, e-mail, social media, phone calls, and video conferencing to check in with our families, friends, and neighbors. We’re at war with a terrible foe, but let’s not let the human connection become collateral damage.

Our world has radically changed during the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) crisis, and this impact has quickly transformed many lives. Whether you’re on the front lines of the COVID-19 pandemic or waiting in eager anticipation to return to practice, there is no denying that a few months ago we could never have imagined the health care and humanitarian crisis that is now before us. While we are united in our longing for a better time, we couldn’t be further apart socially and emotionally … and I’m not just talking about 6 feet.

One thing that has been truly striking to me is the silence. While experts have suggested there is a “silent pandemic” of mental illness on the horizon,¹ I’ve been struck by the actual silence that exists as we walk through our stores and neighborhoods. We’re not speaking to each other anymore; it’s almost as if we’re afraid to make eye contact with one another.

Humans are social creatures, and the isolation that many people are experiencing during this pandemic could have detrimental and lasting effects if we don’t take action. While I highly encourage and support efforts to employ social distancing and mitigate the spread of this illness, I’m increasingly concerned about another kind of truly silent pandemic brewing beneath the surface of the COVID-19 crisis. Even under the best conditions, many individuals with posttraumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and other psychiatric disorders may lack adequate social interaction and experience feelings of isolation. These individuals need connection—not silence.

What happens to people who already felt intense isolation before COVID-19 and may have had invaluable lifelines cut off during this time of social distancing? What about individuals with alcohol or substance use disorders, or families who are sheltered in place in unsafe or violent home conditions? How can they reach out in silence? How can we help?

Fostering human connection

To address this, we must actively work to engage our patients and communities. One simple way to help is to acknowledge the people you encounter. Yes, stay 6 feet apart, and wear appropriate personal protective equipment. However, it is still OK to smile and greet someone with a nod, a smile, or a “hello.” A genuine smile can still be seen in someone’s eyes. We need these types of human connection, perhaps now more than ever before. We need each other.

Most importantly, during this time, we need to be aware of individuals who are most at risk in this silent pandemic. We can offer our patients appointments via video conferencing. We can use texting, e-mail, social media, phone calls, and video conferencing to check in with our families, friends, and neighbors. We’re at war with a terrible foe, but let’s not let the human connection become collateral damage.

During these unprecedented times, venturing into the unknown of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic, a feeling of impending doom prevails. Almost all of us have been restricted to our homes. Although the physical dimensions of what we call home may vary, the meaning of this restriction is fairly universal. No matter how our sociodemographics differ, with no guidance for this situation from anything even remotely comparable in the past, our lives have been transformed into a work in progress.

During this pandemic, I have observed a wide range of human emotions and behavior—many of them familiar and predictable, some abysmal, and some inspiring.

’Why should I care?’

On December 31, 2019, health officials in China informed the World Health Organization about a pneumonia-like presentation in a group of people in Wuhan. On January 7, 2020, a novel coronavirus was identified as the cause, and the first death was reported a few days later. In the following days and weeks the disease rapidly spread, as did the growing sense that this was not a typical virus.

While these events occurred, the rest of the world was in what I call a ”Why should I care?” mode. Most humans tend to suffer from this indifference. This has been observed repeatedly through the years, such as when the Ebola outbreak occurred in Africa in 2014-2016. It was only when cases started to develop in Europe and the United States that other countries started to pay attention. A similar phenomenon has been observed every time we’ve faced a global outbreak (avian influenza, Middle East respiratory syndrome, etc.).

When are we going to learn? It is time to realize that global borders are more porous than we think, and human interactions cannot be blocked by any wall. When a catastrophic event, outbreak, or disaster starts in any part of the world, it is naive to assume that we will not be affected. We will eventually be affected—the only question is how, when, and to what extent? We are always all in this together.

An abundance of ignorance and stupidity

Within a few weeks of the first reports from China, cases of COVID-19 were reported in South Korea, Italy, Spain, Germany, and many other countries. Slowly, COVID-19 reached the United States, which as of mid-April had the highest number of cases worldwide. When COVID-19 hit the United States, the response was that of shock and anger. How could this happen to us? Why is the government not doing anything?

Amidst this pandemonium, ignorance and stupidity of the highest degree were commonplace. This was not restricted to any particular country or region. Almost 2 months into the pandemic, the Ministry of Tourism in my home country of Nepal declared Nepal a ”coronavirus-free zone” and took measures to bring in tourists, focusing specifically on China, where COVID-19 had already killed hundreds. In India, some people were drinking cow urine in hopes of warding off the virus. In the United Sates, thousands of young people flocked to beaches for Spring Break, disregarding measures for social distancing. ”If I get corona, I get corona,” one young man said in an interview that went viral. Personally, I have encountered people who responded to this pandemic by saying the disease was ”cooties” or ”just a flu,” and dismissing it with ”If I die from this, I die.”

Continue to: Rising panic and fear

Rising panic and fear

For most people, seeing COVID-19 at their doorstep triggered a panic, and sent many into a frenzy of buying and hoarding. Once again, we proved that people everywhere are equally stupid, as toilet paper began to vanish from stores across the globe. And yet, this again was a moment when some people began to experience a false sense of immunity: ”I have enough food, money, and toilet paper to last me for 2 years. Why should I be worried?”

When the numbers of COVID-19 deaths in Europe were first reported, the fear became palpable. In Italy and Spain, towns were locked down, and tens of thousands of people (mostly older adults) have died. It was truly heartbreaking to see people alone and at their weakest with no family members allowed to be by their side.

A glimmer of hope

Despite all of this, there were superheroes—the nurses, physicians, allied health professionals, first responders, store workers, restaurant workers, delivery personnel, and others who didn’t have the option of staying home, or who volunteered to help people in need. In moments like this, the actions of these individuals give us hope, reminding us that the human spirit is resilient, and that we will get through this.

A rotation in the emergency department during COVID-19

As a psychiatry resident, it is unlikely that my peers and I face the same risks as our colleagues in other medical specialities. But those of us who happened to be in medical rotations during this time have had the chance to experience this very closely. My personal experience, albeit a brief one, of working in an emergency department with suspected COVID-19 patients has been sobering. Watching nurses and physicians walk into a room wearing personal protective equipment, fearful inside but with a reassuring smile for a scared patient, definitely was one of the most compelling moments of my life. Living in a distant land, with my daughter, wife, parents, and extended family back home in Nepal, has made this even more challenging.

We will overcome this as we have overcome previous challenges in the past. There will be death and chaos, but we will prevail. The only thing is to ask ourselves: How do we want to continue living when this is over?

During these unprecedented times, venturing into the unknown of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic, a feeling of impending doom prevails. Almost all of us have been restricted to our homes. Although the physical dimensions of what we call home may vary, the meaning of this restriction is fairly universal. No matter how our sociodemographics differ, with no guidance for this situation from anything even remotely comparable in the past, our lives have been transformed into a work in progress.

During this pandemic, I have observed a wide range of human emotions and behavior—many of them familiar and predictable, some abysmal, and some inspiring.

’Why should I care?’

On December 31, 2019, health officials in China informed the World Health Organization about a pneumonia-like presentation in a group of people in Wuhan. On January 7, 2020, a novel coronavirus was identified as the cause, and the first death was reported a few days later. In the following days and weeks the disease rapidly spread, as did the growing sense that this was not a typical virus.

While these events occurred, the rest of the world was in what I call a ”Why should I care?” mode. Most humans tend to suffer from this indifference. This has been observed repeatedly through the years, such as when the Ebola outbreak occurred in Africa in 2014-2016. It was only when cases started to develop in Europe and the United States that other countries started to pay attention. A similar phenomenon has been observed every time we’ve faced a global outbreak (avian influenza, Middle East respiratory syndrome, etc.).

When are we going to learn? It is time to realize that global borders are more porous than we think, and human interactions cannot be blocked by any wall. When a catastrophic event, outbreak, or disaster starts in any part of the world, it is naive to assume that we will not be affected. We will eventually be affected—the only question is how, when, and to what extent? We are always all in this together.

An abundance of ignorance and stupidity

Within a few weeks of the first reports from China, cases of COVID-19 were reported in South Korea, Italy, Spain, Germany, and many other countries. Slowly, COVID-19 reached the United States, which as of mid-April had the highest number of cases worldwide. When COVID-19 hit the United States, the response was that of shock and anger. How could this happen to us? Why is the government not doing anything?

Amidst this pandemonium, ignorance and stupidity of the highest degree were commonplace. This was not restricted to any particular country or region. Almost 2 months into the pandemic, the Ministry of Tourism in my home country of Nepal declared Nepal a ”coronavirus-free zone” and took measures to bring in tourists, focusing specifically on China, where COVID-19 had already killed hundreds. In India, some people were drinking cow urine in hopes of warding off the virus. In the United Sates, thousands of young people flocked to beaches for Spring Break, disregarding measures for social distancing. ”If I get corona, I get corona,” one young man said in an interview that went viral. Personally, I have encountered people who responded to this pandemic by saying the disease was ”cooties” or ”just a flu,” and dismissing it with ”If I die from this, I die.”

Continue to: Rising panic and fear

Rising panic and fear

For most people, seeing COVID-19 at their doorstep triggered a panic, and sent many into a frenzy of buying and hoarding. Once again, we proved that people everywhere are equally stupid, as toilet paper began to vanish from stores across the globe. And yet, this again was a moment when some people began to experience a false sense of immunity: ”I have enough food, money, and toilet paper to last me for 2 years. Why should I be worried?”

When the numbers of COVID-19 deaths in Europe were first reported, the fear became palpable. In Italy and Spain, towns were locked down, and tens of thousands of people (mostly older adults) have died. It was truly heartbreaking to see people alone and at their weakest with no family members allowed to be by their side.

A glimmer of hope

Despite all of this, there were superheroes—the nurses, physicians, allied health professionals, first responders, store workers, restaurant workers, delivery personnel, and others who didn’t have the option of staying home, or who volunteered to help people in need. In moments like this, the actions of these individuals give us hope, reminding us that the human spirit is resilient, and that we will get through this.

A rotation in the emergency department during COVID-19

As a psychiatry resident, it is unlikely that my peers and I face the same risks as our colleagues in other medical specialities. But those of us who happened to be in medical rotations during this time have had the chance to experience this very closely. My personal experience, albeit a brief one, of working in an emergency department with suspected COVID-19 patients has been sobering. Watching nurses and physicians walk into a room wearing personal protective equipment, fearful inside but with a reassuring smile for a scared patient, definitely was one of the most compelling moments of my life. Living in a distant land, with my daughter, wife, parents, and extended family back home in Nepal, has made this even more challenging.

We will overcome this as we have overcome previous challenges in the past. There will be death and chaos, but we will prevail. The only thing is to ask ourselves: How do we want to continue living when this is over?

During these unprecedented times, venturing into the unknown of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic, a feeling of impending doom prevails. Almost all of us have been restricted to our homes. Although the physical dimensions of what we call home may vary, the meaning of this restriction is fairly universal. No matter how our sociodemographics differ, with no guidance for this situation from anything even remotely comparable in the past, our lives have been transformed into a work in progress.

During this pandemic, I have observed a wide range of human emotions and behavior—many of them familiar and predictable, some abysmal, and some inspiring.

’Why should I care?’

On December 31, 2019, health officials in China informed the World Health Organization about a pneumonia-like presentation in a group of people in Wuhan. On January 7, 2020, a novel coronavirus was identified as the cause, and the first death was reported a few days later. In the following days and weeks the disease rapidly spread, as did the growing sense that this was not a typical virus.

While these events occurred, the rest of the world was in what I call a ”Why should I care?” mode. Most humans tend to suffer from this indifference. This has been observed repeatedly through the years, such as when the Ebola outbreak occurred in Africa in 2014-2016. It was only when cases started to develop in Europe and the United States that other countries started to pay attention. A similar phenomenon has been observed every time we’ve faced a global outbreak (avian influenza, Middle East respiratory syndrome, etc.).

When are we going to learn? It is time to realize that global borders are more porous than we think, and human interactions cannot be blocked by any wall. When a catastrophic event, outbreak, or disaster starts in any part of the world, it is naive to assume that we will not be affected. We will eventually be affected—the only question is how, when, and to what extent? We are always all in this together.

An abundance of ignorance and stupidity

Within a few weeks of the first reports from China, cases of COVID-19 were reported in South Korea, Italy, Spain, Germany, and many other countries. Slowly, COVID-19 reached the United States, which as of mid-April had the highest number of cases worldwide. When COVID-19 hit the United States, the response was that of shock and anger. How could this happen to us? Why is the government not doing anything?

Amidst this pandemonium, ignorance and stupidity of the highest degree were commonplace. This was not restricted to any particular country or region. Almost 2 months into the pandemic, the Ministry of Tourism in my home country of Nepal declared Nepal a ”coronavirus-free zone” and took measures to bring in tourists, focusing specifically on China, where COVID-19 had already killed hundreds. In India, some people were drinking cow urine in hopes of warding off the virus. In the United Sates, thousands of young people flocked to beaches for Spring Break, disregarding measures for social distancing. ”If I get corona, I get corona,” one young man said in an interview that went viral. Personally, I have encountered people who responded to this pandemic by saying the disease was ”cooties” or ”just a flu,” and dismissing it with ”If I die from this, I die.”

Continue to: Rising panic and fear

Rising panic and fear

For most people, seeing COVID-19 at their doorstep triggered a panic, and sent many into a frenzy of buying and hoarding. Once again, we proved that people everywhere are equally stupid, as toilet paper began to vanish from stores across the globe. And yet, this again was a moment when some people began to experience a false sense of immunity: ”I have enough food, money, and toilet paper to last me for 2 years. Why should I be worried?”

When the numbers of COVID-19 deaths in Europe were first reported, the fear became palpable. In Italy and Spain, towns were locked down, and tens of thousands of people (mostly older adults) have died. It was truly heartbreaking to see people alone and at their weakest with no family members allowed to be by their side.

A glimmer of hope

Despite all of this, there were superheroes—the nurses, physicians, allied health professionals, first responders, store workers, restaurant workers, delivery personnel, and others who didn’t have the option of staying home, or who volunteered to help people in need. In moments like this, the actions of these individuals give us hope, reminding us that the human spirit is resilient, and that we will get through this.

A rotation in the emergency department during COVID-19

As a psychiatry resident, it is unlikely that my peers and I face the same risks as our colleagues in other medical specialities. But those of us who happened to be in medical rotations during this time have had the chance to experience this very closely. My personal experience, albeit a brief one, of working in an emergency department with suspected COVID-19 patients has been sobering. Watching nurses and physicians walk into a room wearing personal protective equipment, fearful inside but with a reassuring smile for a scared patient, definitely was one of the most compelling moments of my life. Living in a distant land, with my daughter, wife, parents, and extended family back home in Nepal, has made this even more challenging.

We will overcome this as we have overcome previous challenges in the past. There will be death and chaos, but we will prevail. The only thing is to ask ourselves: How do we want to continue living when this is over?

Several months ago, I sat with a woman just a few days after the emergent Cesarean section delivery of her first child. She cried as she told me about her entire life—childhood trauma, a pattern of difficult relationships, several miscarriages, and now, finally, a baby—delivered under circumstances so scary, all she remembered was overwhelming fear. Now, she had returned to the hospital with severe postpartum depression, layered with struggles that are common during the first days with a newborn—little sleep, loss of autonomy, guilt, and loneliness. It was hard to listen to it all, but I encouraged her to express her pain, believing that burdens are lighter when shared.

Words often fail us in times of desperation. Much of my education has involved borrowing words, phrases, or ideas from my experienced attendings and mentors, applying them like a salve when I don’t know what else to say. Sitting with another person in silence is often powerful enough, but when something needs to be said, I fall back on these inherited ideas. One of the mantras I often use, and what I said to my patient that day, is about hope: “When you’re down in this depression, you feel hopeless, and you can’t see the hope. It doesn’t mean there isn’t hope; just that you can’t see it.” I’ve watched that idea take root in patients who—despite their own beliefs in the moment—do get better, thus proving the point. Another favorite phrase: “With any luck at all, tomorrow will be better than today.” When you talk to someone on the worst day of their life, what else is there to say?

Today, my conversation with that woman seems like an eternity ago. Public discourse has been overtaken by coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19)—the journalism, reflections on the journalism, medical advice, debate about the medical advice, and the innumerable ways in which this worldwide strife has created pain: celebrations and long-awaited plans cancelled, weddings and funerals put on hold, isolation, loneliness, death, and, of course, the fear of death. Those feelings and any other permutations are valid; another phrase, “It’s OK to feel what you are feeling,” carries weight for me these days. I work in a hospital, so I add to the list the breathless fears about what’s going to happen in our local environment. The chronic uncertainty was wearing us thin even before we had begun to do here in Ohio what was already being done elsewhere: working extra shifts, intubating new patients, praying we don’t get sick ourselves.

Our work during COVID-19

Amidst this, my colleagues and I continue our work as psychiatrists, sitting with humans experiencing complex grief (a man whose wife died alone in a nursing home, because of visitor restrictions), confusion (delirium resulting from respiratory failure), and even psychosis (inability to access stabilizing medications coupled with crippling paranoia). These remain just as real and debilitating in a pandemic as they do in other times. In addition to pre-existing mental illnesses, for some individuals, the shared anxiety will progress to clinically significant disorders that may last even longer than the effects of the virus. The resulting complex symptoms could affect everything from home lives to interpersonal relationships to our local and global economies. These are not minor issues. Although often triaged aside in a disaster, our collective mental health remains in some ways more central than ever.

Modern psychiatry would not often use the word “love,” but that’s what I am trying to do—show love to the people who need it the most right now (which is all of us, really). This love takes strange shapes, and sometimes new forms, but it’s just about all I have to give. Like everyone else, I don’t have concrete answers for the grief and fear and panic. But I’m content to share the burden of pain, believing that burdens are lighter when shared. And I have a few words that, however little comfort they offer in the moment, are eventually proven true: Just because you can’t see the hope doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s OK to feel what you are feeling. With any luck at all, tomorrow will be better than today.

Several months ago, I sat with a woman just a few days after the emergent Cesarean section delivery of her first child. She cried as she told me about her entire life—childhood trauma, a pattern of difficult relationships, several miscarriages, and now, finally, a baby—delivered under circumstances so scary, all she remembered was overwhelming fear. Now, she had returned to the hospital with severe postpartum depression, layered with struggles that are common during the first days with a newborn—little sleep, loss of autonomy, guilt, and loneliness. It was hard to listen to it all, but I encouraged her to express her pain, believing that burdens are lighter when shared.

Words often fail us in times of desperation. Much of my education has involved borrowing words, phrases, or ideas from my experienced attendings and mentors, applying them like a salve when I don’t know what else to say. Sitting with another person in silence is often powerful enough, but when something needs to be said, I fall back on these inherited ideas. One of the mantras I often use, and what I said to my patient that day, is about hope: “When you’re down in this depression, you feel hopeless, and you can’t see the hope. It doesn’t mean there isn’t hope; just that you can’t see it.” I’ve watched that idea take root in patients who—despite their own beliefs in the moment—do get better, thus proving the point. Another favorite phrase: “With any luck at all, tomorrow will be better than today.” When you talk to someone on the worst day of their life, what else is there to say?

Today, my conversation with that woman seems like an eternity ago. Public discourse has been overtaken by coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19)—the journalism, reflections on the journalism, medical advice, debate about the medical advice, and the innumerable ways in which this worldwide strife has created pain: celebrations and long-awaited plans cancelled, weddings and funerals put on hold, isolation, loneliness, death, and, of course, the fear of death. Those feelings and any other permutations are valid; another phrase, “It’s OK to feel what you are feeling,” carries weight for me these days. I work in a hospital, so I add to the list the breathless fears about what’s going to happen in our local environment. The chronic uncertainty was wearing us thin even before we had begun to do here in Ohio what was already being done elsewhere: working extra shifts, intubating new patients, praying we don’t get sick ourselves.

Our work during COVID-19

Amidst this, my colleagues and I continue our work as psychiatrists, sitting with humans experiencing complex grief (a man whose wife died alone in a nursing home, because of visitor restrictions), confusion (delirium resulting from respiratory failure), and even psychosis (inability to access stabilizing medications coupled with crippling paranoia). These remain just as real and debilitating in a pandemic as they do in other times. In addition to pre-existing mental illnesses, for some individuals, the shared anxiety will progress to clinically significant disorders that may last even longer than the effects of the virus. The resulting complex symptoms could affect everything from home lives to interpersonal relationships to our local and global economies. These are not minor issues. Although often triaged aside in a disaster, our collective mental health remains in some ways more central than ever.

Modern psychiatry would not often use the word “love,” but that’s what I am trying to do—show love to the people who need it the most right now (which is all of us, really). This love takes strange shapes, and sometimes new forms, but it’s just about all I have to give. Like everyone else, I don’t have concrete answers for the grief and fear and panic. But I’m content to share the burden of pain, believing that burdens are lighter when shared. And I have a few words that, however little comfort they offer in the moment, are eventually proven true: Just because you can’t see the hope doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s OK to feel what you are feeling. With any luck at all, tomorrow will be better than today.

Several months ago, I sat with a woman just a few days after the emergent Cesarean section delivery of her first child. She cried as she told me about her entire life—childhood trauma, a pattern of difficult relationships, several miscarriages, and now, finally, a baby—delivered under circumstances so scary, all she remembered was overwhelming fear. Now, she had returned to the hospital with severe postpartum depression, layered with struggles that are common during the first days with a newborn—little sleep, loss of autonomy, guilt, and loneliness. It was hard to listen to it all, but I encouraged her to express her pain, believing that burdens are lighter when shared.

Words often fail us in times of desperation. Much of my education has involved borrowing words, phrases, or ideas from my experienced attendings and mentors, applying them like a salve when I don’t know what else to say. Sitting with another person in silence is often powerful enough, but when something needs to be said, I fall back on these inherited ideas. One of the mantras I often use, and what I said to my patient that day, is about hope: “When you’re down in this depression, you feel hopeless, and you can’t see the hope. It doesn’t mean there isn’t hope; just that you can’t see it.” I’ve watched that idea take root in patients who—despite their own beliefs in the moment—do get better, thus proving the point. Another favorite phrase: “With any luck at all, tomorrow will be better than today.” When you talk to someone on the worst day of their life, what else is there to say?

Today, my conversation with that woman seems like an eternity ago. Public discourse has been overtaken by coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19)—the journalism, reflections on the journalism, medical advice, debate about the medical advice, and the innumerable ways in which this worldwide strife has created pain: celebrations and long-awaited plans cancelled, weddings and funerals put on hold, isolation, loneliness, death, and, of course, the fear of death. Those feelings and any other permutations are valid; another phrase, “It’s OK to feel what you are feeling,” carries weight for me these days. I work in a hospital, so I add to the list the breathless fears about what’s going to happen in our local environment. The chronic uncertainty was wearing us thin even before we had begun to do here in Ohio what was already being done elsewhere: working extra shifts, intubating new patients, praying we don’t get sick ourselves.

Our work during COVID-19

Amidst this, my colleagues and I continue our work as psychiatrists, sitting with humans experiencing complex grief (a man whose wife died alone in a nursing home, because of visitor restrictions), confusion (delirium resulting from respiratory failure), and even psychosis (inability to access stabilizing medications coupled with crippling paranoia). These remain just as real and debilitating in a pandemic as they do in other times. In addition to pre-existing mental illnesses, for some individuals, the shared anxiety will progress to clinically significant disorders that may last even longer than the effects of the virus. The resulting complex symptoms could affect everything from home lives to interpersonal relationships to our local and global economies. These are not minor issues. Although often triaged aside in a disaster, our collective mental health remains in some ways more central than ever.

Modern psychiatry would not often use the word “love,” but that’s what I am trying to do—show love to the people who need it the most right now (which is all of us, really). This love takes strange shapes, and sometimes new forms, but it’s just about all I have to give. Like everyone else, I don’t have concrete answers for the grief and fear and panic. But I’m content to share the burden of pain, believing that burdens are lighter when shared. And I have a few words that, however little comfort they offer in the moment, are eventually proven true: Just because you can’t see the hope doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s OK to feel what you are feeling. With any luck at all, tomorrow will be better than today.

On the first day of my third postgraduate year, I sat at a table with my entire PGY-3 class and our attending physician. This was my first case discussion of the new academic year, and the attending was someone I hadn’t worked with previously. He was an older gentleman who primarily worked in private practice, but enjoyed teaching and maintained his academic affiliations. He started the discussion with a simple question: “Does anyone have a case they would like to discuss?”

The silence we were accustomed to as new interns on the first day of service fell over the group. Everyone seemed a bit apprehensive, as this attending was somewhat intimidating. He was educated at Hahnemann University Hospital, and classically trained in psychoanalysis. He had a wealth of research knowledge, and continued to publish in academic journals on a regular basis.

Finally, someone volunteered to present a case. The case involved a 45-year-old woman with a long history of depression. She had received multiple medication trials that did not result in remission. In fact, she had never experienced significant relief of any of her depressive symptoms. The case was clearly shaping up to look like treatment-resistant depression. The resident continued with the case and discussed the differential diagnosis and treatment plan. The treatment plan involved a combination of pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy—not much different from the previous treatments the patient had tried. I anxiously anticipated the response from the attending.

After listening attentively and taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the attending responded with one word: “Egregious.” He was blunt, and clearly viewed the case formulation and management of this patient as “basic.” It was clear to me that I, and the rest of my class, were missing something. It was something that was not going to come from a textbook or treatment algorithm. He was the first attending in some time who was challenging us to truly think.

A profound point

I ruminated on his surprising response for a moment, as the treatment plan presented was commonly seen on the inpatient unit. It was not an unreasonable approach, but it lacked depth and sophistication. However, no attending I worked with in the past ever called it “egregious.” Now I was intrigued, and honestly, it had been some time since I felt excited about a case discussion. The attending’s point was simple: our patients are suffering, and they are coming to us in their most vulnerable state seeking answers. When we make decisions based on FDA approvals and blindly follow treatment algorithms, we fail to see the vast untapped potential to help patients that resides outside of these strict guidelines. This is not to say there is no place for algorithm-based psychiatry and FDA-approved medications; in fact, many times these will be the cornerstones of treatment.

During the discussion, this attending proceeded to make another profound statement that I continue to remind myself of each day. He said, “What would be the point of these patients coming to see you if you are going to practice psychiatry like a primary care provider?” I had to agree with him on many levels, because these patients are suffering, and they are looking for hope. If we simply offer them the same standard treatments, they are likely to get the same poor results. Our patients are coming to us because we are experts in the field of psychiatry; we owe them the respect to think outside the box. As specialists, the most complicated and difficult-to-treat cases will be referred to us. We need to possess a deep understanding of all treatment options, and know where to go when your first, second, and third options fail to produce the desired result.

The attending offered his thoughts on the case, and discussed his approach to treating this patient. He explained the importance of not being afraid to try medications in doses above the FDA-approved maximums in select cases. He explained the robust research behind monoamine oxidase inhibitors (MAOIs), and how to safely prescribe them. He explained why tricyclic antidepressants may be a more effective choice for some patients.

Continue to: These were discussions...

These were discussions I never had the opportunity to have in the past. In many instances, the possibility of using an MAOI would be quickly dismissed by my attendings as “too dangerous” or “better options are available.” In this attending’s view, it wasn’t the danger of an adverse outcome we are facing, but the danger of missing potentially life-changing treatments for our patients. The attending concluded with, “It’s sad that many of you will graduate without starting a patient on an MAOI, without titrating a tricyclic antidepressant and monitoring blood levels, and without ever really thinking for yourself.” These were powerful words, and he was speaking a truth that deep down I already knew.

When I reflect on this discussion and my first 2 years of training, I realize the value in learning structured methods of treating patients. I am aware of the need to practice in a safe manner that does not put the patient at unnecessary risk. However, I also realize I am going to face difficult cases where many smart and capable clinicians have attempted treatment and failed to get the desired outcome. It’s essential that as specialists we learn to use all the tools available to us to treat patients. If we limit ourselves out of fear, or blindly follow algorithms, we miss important opportunities to act boldly to help patients in their darkest moments.

On the first day of my third postgraduate year, I sat at a table with my entire PGY-3 class and our attending physician. This was my first case discussion of the new academic year, and the attending was someone I hadn’t worked with previously. He was an older gentleman who primarily worked in private practice, but enjoyed teaching and maintained his academic affiliations. He started the discussion with a simple question: “Does anyone have a case they would like to discuss?”

The silence we were accustomed to as new interns on the first day of service fell over the group. Everyone seemed a bit apprehensive, as this attending was somewhat intimidating. He was educated at Hahnemann University Hospital, and classically trained in psychoanalysis. He had a wealth of research knowledge, and continued to publish in academic journals on a regular basis.

Finally, someone volunteered to present a case. The case involved a 45-year-old woman with a long history of depression. She had received multiple medication trials that did not result in remission. In fact, she had never experienced significant relief of any of her depressive symptoms. The case was clearly shaping up to look like treatment-resistant depression. The resident continued with the case and discussed the differential diagnosis and treatment plan. The treatment plan involved a combination of pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy—not much different from the previous treatments the patient had tried. I anxiously anticipated the response from the attending.

After listening attentively and taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the attending responded with one word: “Egregious.” He was blunt, and clearly viewed the case formulation and management of this patient as “basic.” It was clear to me that I, and the rest of my class, were missing something. It was something that was not going to come from a textbook or treatment algorithm. He was the first attending in some time who was challenging us to truly think.

A profound point

I ruminated on his surprising response for a moment, as the treatment plan presented was commonly seen on the inpatient unit. It was not an unreasonable approach, but it lacked depth and sophistication. However, no attending I worked with in the past ever called it “egregious.” Now I was intrigued, and honestly, it had been some time since I felt excited about a case discussion. The attending’s point was simple: our patients are suffering, and they are coming to us in their most vulnerable state seeking answers. When we make decisions based on FDA approvals and blindly follow treatment algorithms, we fail to see the vast untapped potential to help patients that resides outside of these strict guidelines. This is not to say there is no place for algorithm-based psychiatry and FDA-approved medications; in fact, many times these will be the cornerstones of treatment.

During the discussion, this attending proceeded to make another profound statement that I continue to remind myself of each day. He said, “What would be the point of these patients coming to see you if you are going to practice psychiatry like a primary care provider?” I had to agree with him on many levels, because these patients are suffering, and they are looking for hope. If we simply offer them the same standard treatments, they are likely to get the same poor results. Our patients are coming to us because we are experts in the field of psychiatry; we owe them the respect to think outside the box. As specialists, the most complicated and difficult-to-treat cases will be referred to us. We need to possess a deep understanding of all treatment options, and know where to go when your first, second, and third options fail to produce the desired result.

The attending offered his thoughts on the case, and discussed his approach to treating this patient. He explained the importance of not being afraid to try medications in doses above the FDA-approved maximums in select cases. He explained the robust research behind monoamine oxidase inhibitors (MAOIs), and how to safely prescribe them. He explained why tricyclic antidepressants may be a more effective choice for some patients.

Continue to: These were discussions...

These were discussions I never had the opportunity to have in the past. In many instances, the possibility of using an MAOI would be quickly dismissed by my attendings as “too dangerous” or “better options are available.” In this attending’s view, it wasn’t the danger of an adverse outcome we are facing, but the danger of missing potentially life-changing treatments for our patients. The attending concluded with, “It’s sad that many of you will graduate without starting a patient on an MAOI, without titrating a tricyclic antidepressant and monitoring blood levels, and without ever really thinking for yourself.” These were powerful words, and he was speaking a truth that deep down I already knew.

When I reflect on this discussion and my first 2 years of training, I realize the value in learning structured methods of treating patients. I am aware of the need to practice in a safe manner that does not put the patient at unnecessary risk. However, I also realize I am going to face difficult cases where many smart and capable clinicians have attempted treatment and failed to get the desired outcome. It’s essential that as specialists we learn to use all the tools available to us to treat patients. If we limit ourselves out of fear, or blindly follow algorithms, we miss important opportunities to act boldly to help patients in their darkest moments.

On the first day of my third postgraduate year, I sat at a table with my entire PGY-3 class and our attending physician. This was my first case discussion of the new academic year, and the attending was someone I hadn’t worked with previously. He was an older gentleman who primarily worked in private practice, but enjoyed teaching and maintained his academic affiliations. He started the discussion with a simple question: “Does anyone have a case they would like to discuss?”

The silence we were accustomed to as new interns on the first day of service fell over the group. Everyone seemed a bit apprehensive, as this attending was somewhat intimidating. He was educated at Hahnemann University Hospital, and classically trained in psychoanalysis. He had a wealth of research knowledge, and continued to publish in academic journals on a regular basis.

Finally, someone volunteered to present a case. The case involved a 45-year-old woman with a long history of depression. She had received multiple medication trials that did not result in remission. In fact, she had never experienced significant relief of any of her depressive symptoms. The case was clearly shaping up to look like treatment-resistant depression. The resident continued with the case and discussed the differential diagnosis and treatment plan. The treatment plan involved a combination of pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy—not much different from the previous treatments the patient had tried. I anxiously anticipated the response from the attending.

After listening attentively and taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the attending responded with one word: “Egregious.” He was blunt, and clearly viewed the case formulation and management of this patient as “basic.” It was clear to me that I, and the rest of my class, were missing something. It was something that was not going to come from a textbook or treatment algorithm. He was the first attending in some time who was challenging us to truly think.

A profound point

I ruminated on his surprising response for a moment, as the treatment plan presented was commonly seen on the inpatient unit. It was not an unreasonable approach, but it lacked depth and sophistication. However, no attending I worked with in the past ever called it “egregious.” Now I was intrigued, and honestly, it had been some time since I felt excited about a case discussion. The attending’s point was simple: our patients are suffering, and they are coming to us in their most vulnerable state seeking answers. When we make decisions based on FDA approvals and blindly follow treatment algorithms, we fail to see the vast untapped potential to help patients that resides outside of these strict guidelines. This is not to say there is no place for algorithm-based psychiatry and FDA-approved medications; in fact, many times these will be the cornerstones of treatment.

During the discussion, this attending proceeded to make another profound statement that I continue to remind myself of each day. He said, “What would be the point of these patients coming to see you if you are going to practice psychiatry like a primary care provider?” I had to agree with him on many levels, because these patients are suffering, and they are looking for hope. If we simply offer them the same standard treatments, they are likely to get the same poor results. Our patients are coming to us because we are experts in the field of psychiatry; we owe them the respect to think outside the box. As specialists, the most complicated and difficult-to-treat cases will be referred to us. We need to possess a deep understanding of all treatment options, and know where to go when your first, second, and third options fail to produce the desired result.

The attending offered his thoughts on the case, and discussed his approach to treating this patient. He explained the importance of not being afraid to try medications in doses above the FDA-approved maximums in select cases. He explained the robust research behind monoamine oxidase inhibitors (MAOIs), and how to safely prescribe them. He explained why tricyclic antidepressants may be a more effective choice for some patients.

Continue to: These were discussions...

These were discussions I never had the opportunity to have in the past. In many instances, the possibility of using an MAOI would be quickly dismissed by my attendings as “too dangerous” or “better options are available.” In this attending’s view, it wasn’t the danger of an adverse outcome we are facing, but the danger of missing potentially life-changing treatments for our patients. The attending concluded with, “It’s sad that many of you will graduate without starting a patient on an MAOI, without titrating a tricyclic antidepressant and monitoring blood levels, and without ever really thinking for yourself.” These were powerful words, and he was speaking a truth that deep down I already knew.

When I reflect on this discussion and my first 2 years of training, I realize the value in learning structured methods of treating patients. I am aware of the need to practice in a safe manner that does not put the patient at unnecessary risk. However, I also realize I am going to face difficult cases where many smart and capable clinicians have attempted treatment and failed to get the desired outcome. It’s essential that as specialists we learn to use all the tools available to us to treat patients. If we limit ourselves out of fear, or blindly follow algorithms, we miss important opportunities to act boldly to help patients in their darkest moments.

Long utilized as a rapid anesthetic, ketamine has been increasingly used in sub-anesthetic doses for several psychiatric indications, including depression, suicidality, and chronic pain. Recently, an intranasal form of esketamine—the S-enantiomer of ketamine—was FDA-approved for treatment-resistant depression. Previously, researchers believed ketamine mediated its analgesic and psychotropic effects solely via N-methyl-D-aspartate (NMDA) receptor antagonism, but emerging research has described a seemingly more complex receptor profile.¹ One such ancillary pharmacologic mechanism is occupation of the serotonin receptor.^1,2 However, there is sparse literature describing the possible extent of ketamine’s involvement in serotonin syndrome.³ Here, we describe a case of serotonin syndrome that might have been induced by ketamine.

CASE REPORT

Ms. O, age 41, has a history of endometriosis, anticardiolipin antibody syndrome, major depressive disorder, and generalized anxiety disorder. She initially presented to an outside hospital and was admitted for chronic endometriosis pain. During that admission, her pain was treated with IV ketamine, 40 mg/hour, on hospital Days 1 through 4. While hospitalized, she continued to receive her home medications: fluoxetine, 40 mg/d, coumadin, 5 mg/d, and diphenhydramine, 25 mg/d. On Day 5, Ms. O experienced visual hallucinations and was diagnosed with ketamine-induced delirium. She was treated with haloperidol (dose unknown) with reportedly good effect. On Day 7, she was discharged home.

Upon returning home, she experienced persistent altered mental status. Her significant other brought her to our hospital for further workup. Ms. O’s body temperature was 37.6°C, and she was diaphoretic. Her blood pressure was 154/100 mm Hg, and her heart rate was 125 bpm. On physical examination, she had 4+ patellar and Achilles reflexes with left ankle clonus and crossed adductors. Her mental status exam showed increased latency of thought and speech, with bizarre affect as evidenced by illogical mannerisms and appearance. She said she was “not feeling myself” and would stare at walls for prolonged periods of time, appearing internally preoccupied and confused.

Ms. O was treated with IV lorazepam, 2 mg. Fourteen hours later, her temperature returned to normal, but she remained tachycardic, hypertensive, and altered. She received 2 additional doses of 2 mg and 1 mg. Seventeen hours after the initial dose of IV lorazepam was administered (and 3 hours after the second dose), Ms. O’s heart rate returned to normal. She was ultimately converted to oral lorazepam, 1 mg every 12 hours. Two hours later, Ms. O’s blood pressure returned to normal, and her physical exam showed normal reflexes.

Ms. O was given a presumptive diagnosis of ketamine-induced serotonin syndrome. She made a good recovery and was discharged home.

A suspected association

Serotonin syndrome is caused by increased levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin in the CNS. Clinical features of serotonin syndrome include agitation, restlessness, mydriasis, altered mental status or confusion, tachycardia, hypertension, muscle rigidity, diaphoresis, diarrhea, piloerection, headache, fasciculations, clonus, and shivering. Severe cases can be life-threatening and may present with high fever, seizures, arrhythmias, and loss of consciousness. Serotonin syndrome is a clinical diagnosis; the Hunter Serotonin Toxicity Criteria are often used to make the diagnosis. To meet these criteria, a patient must have received a serotonergic agent, and at least one of the following must be present⁴:

• spontaneous clonus
• inducible clonus and agitation or diaphoresis
• ocular clonus and agitation or diaphoresis
• tremor and hyperreflexia
• hypertonia, temperature >38°C, and ocular clonus or inducible clonus.

For Ms. O, we suspected that administration of ketamine in conjunction with fluoxetine, 40 mg/d, led to serotonin syndrome. Ms. O exhibited ocular clonus and diaphoresis, thus satisfying the Hunter Serotonin Toxicity Criteria, and she also had inducible clonus, altered mental status, hypertension, and tachycardia, which makes serotonin syndrome the most likely diagnosis. She improved after receiving lorazepam, which is often used to treat hypertonicity, decrease autonomic instability, and prevent seizures seen in serotonin syndrome.⁵

Continue to: There is sparse literature...

There is sparse literature describing serotonin syndrome related to ketamine use. Ketamine has been shown to increase levels of glutamate in the medial prefrontal cortex. Higher levels of glutamine in turn stimulate excitatory glutamatergic neurons that project to the dorsal raphe nucleus. When stimulated, the dorsal raphe nucleus releases serotonin.⁶ There is also evidence that ketamine inhibits uptake of serotonin in synapses.⁷ These mechanisms combine to create a net increase in CNS-wide serotonin.

Ketamine is being increasingly used to treat depression and other conditions. This case report underscores the importance of considering serotonin syndrome when treating patients receiving ketamine, especially when it is used in conjunction with selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

Long utilized as a rapid anesthetic, ketamine has been increasingly used in sub-anesthetic doses for several psychiatric indications, including depression, suicidality, and chronic pain. Recently, an intranasal form of esketamine—the S-enantiomer of ketamine—was FDA-approved for treatment-resistant depression. Previously, researchers believed ketamine mediated its analgesic and psychotropic effects solely via N-methyl-D-aspartate (NMDA) receptor antagonism, but emerging research has described a seemingly more complex receptor profile.¹ One such ancillary pharmacologic mechanism is occupation of the serotonin receptor.^1,2 However, there is sparse literature describing the possible extent of ketamine’s involvement in serotonin syndrome.³ Here, we describe a case of serotonin syndrome that might have been induced by ketamine.

CASE REPORT

Ms. O, age 41, has a history of endometriosis, anticardiolipin antibody syndrome, major depressive disorder, and generalized anxiety disorder. She initially presented to an outside hospital and was admitted for chronic endometriosis pain. During that admission, her pain was treated with IV ketamine, 40 mg/hour, on hospital Days 1 through 4. While hospitalized, she continued to receive her home medications: fluoxetine, 40 mg/d, coumadin, 5 mg/d, and diphenhydramine, 25 mg/d. On Day 5, Ms. O experienced visual hallucinations and was diagnosed with ketamine-induced delirium. She was treated with haloperidol (dose unknown) with reportedly good effect. On Day 7, she was discharged home.

Upon returning home, she experienced persistent altered mental status. Her significant other brought her to our hospital for further workup. Ms. O’s body temperature was 37.6°C, and she was diaphoretic. Her blood pressure was 154/100 mm Hg, and her heart rate was 125 bpm. On physical examination, she had 4+ patellar and Achilles reflexes with left ankle clonus and crossed adductors. Her mental status exam showed increased latency of thought and speech, with bizarre affect as evidenced by illogical mannerisms and appearance. She said she was “not feeling myself” and would stare at walls for prolonged periods of time, appearing internally preoccupied and confused.

Ms. O was treated with IV lorazepam, 2 mg. Fourteen hours later, her temperature returned to normal, but she remained tachycardic, hypertensive, and altered. She received 2 additional doses of 2 mg and 1 mg. Seventeen hours after the initial dose of IV lorazepam was administered (and 3 hours after the second dose), Ms. O’s heart rate returned to normal. She was ultimately converted to oral lorazepam, 1 mg every 12 hours. Two hours later, Ms. O’s blood pressure returned to normal, and her physical exam showed normal reflexes.

Ms. O was given a presumptive diagnosis of ketamine-induced serotonin syndrome. She made a good recovery and was discharged home.

A suspected association

Serotonin syndrome is caused by increased levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin in the CNS. Clinical features of serotonin syndrome include agitation, restlessness, mydriasis, altered mental status or confusion, tachycardia, hypertension, muscle rigidity, diaphoresis, diarrhea, piloerection, headache, fasciculations, clonus, and shivering. Severe cases can be life-threatening and may present with high fever, seizures, arrhythmias, and loss of consciousness. Serotonin syndrome is a clinical diagnosis; the Hunter Serotonin Toxicity Criteria are often used to make the diagnosis. To meet these criteria, a patient must have received a serotonergic agent, and at least one of the following must be present⁴:

• spontaneous clonus
• inducible clonus and agitation or diaphoresis
• ocular clonus and agitation or diaphoresis
• tremor and hyperreflexia
• hypertonia, temperature >38°C, and ocular clonus or inducible clonus.

For Ms. O, we suspected that administration of ketamine in conjunction with fluoxetine, 40 mg/d, led to serotonin syndrome. Ms. O exhibited ocular clonus and diaphoresis, thus satisfying the Hunter Serotonin Toxicity Criteria, and she also had inducible clonus, altered mental status, hypertension, and tachycardia, which makes serotonin syndrome the most likely diagnosis. She improved after receiving lorazepam, which is often used to treat hypertonicity, decrease autonomic instability, and prevent seizures seen in serotonin syndrome.⁵

Continue to: There is sparse literature...

There is sparse literature describing serotonin syndrome related to ketamine use. Ketamine has been shown to increase levels of glutamate in the medial prefrontal cortex. Higher levels of glutamine in turn stimulate excitatory glutamatergic neurons that project to the dorsal raphe nucleus. When stimulated, the dorsal raphe nucleus releases serotonin.⁶ There is also evidence that ketamine inhibits uptake of serotonin in synapses.⁷ These mechanisms combine to create a net increase in CNS-wide serotonin.

Ketamine is being increasingly used to treat depression and other conditions. This case report underscores the importance of considering serotonin syndrome when treating patients receiving ketamine, especially when it is used in conjunction with selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

Long utilized as a rapid anesthetic, ketamine has been increasingly used in sub-anesthetic doses for several psychiatric indications, including depression, suicidality, and chronic pain. Recently, an intranasal form of esketamine—the S-enantiomer of ketamine—was FDA-approved for treatment-resistant depression. Previously, researchers believed ketamine mediated its analgesic and psychotropic effects solely via N-methyl-D-aspartate (NMDA) receptor antagonism, but emerging research has described a seemingly more complex receptor profile.¹ One such ancillary pharmacologic mechanism is occupation of the serotonin receptor.^1,2 However, there is sparse literature describing the possible extent of ketamine’s involvement in serotonin syndrome.³ Here, we describe a case of serotonin syndrome that might have been induced by ketamine.

CASE REPORT

Ms. O, age 41, has a history of endometriosis, anticardiolipin antibody syndrome, major depressive disorder, and generalized anxiety disorder. She initially presented to an outside hospital and was admitted for chronic endometriosis pain. During that admission, her pain was treated with IV ketamine, 40 mg/hour, on hospital Days 1 through 4. While hospitalized, she continued to receive her home medications: fluoxetine, 40 mg/d, coumadin, 5 mg/d, and diphenhydramine, 25 mg/d. On Day 5, Ms. O experienced visual hallucinations and was diagnosed with ketamine-induced delirium. She was treated with haloperidol (dose unknown) with reportedly good effect. On Day 7, she was discharged home.

Upon returning home, she experienced persistent altered mental status. Her significant other brought her to our hospital for further workup. Ms. O’s body temperature was 37.6°C, and she was diaphoretic. Her blood pressure was 154/100 mm Hg, and her heart rate was 125 bpm. On physical examination, she had 4+ patellar and Achilles reflexes with left ankle clonus and crossed adductors. Her mental status exam showed increased latency of thought and speech, with bizarre affect as evidenced by illogical mannerisms and appearance. She said she was “not feeling myself” and would stare at walls for prolonged periods of time, appearing internally preoccupied and confused.

Ms. O was treated with IV lorazepam, 2 mg. Fourteen hours later, her temperature returned to normal, but she remained tachycardic, hypertensive, and altered. She received 2 additional doses of 2 mg and 1 mg. Seventeen hours after the initial dose of IV lorazepam was administered (and 3 hours after the second dose), Ms. O’s heart rate returned to normal. She was ultimately converted to oral lorazepam, 1 mg every 12 hours. Two hours later, Ms. O’s blood pressure returned to normal, and her physical exam showed normal reflexes.

Ms. O was given a presumptive diagnosis of ketamine-induced serotonin syndrome. She made a good recovery and was discharged home.

A suspected association

Serotonin syndrome is caused by increased levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin in the CNS. Clinical features of serotonin syndrome include agitation, restlessness, mydriasis, altered mental status or confusion, tachycardia, hypertension, muscle rigidity, diaphoresis, diarrhea, piloerection, headache, fasciculations, clonus, and shivering. Severe cases can be life-threatening and may present with high fever, seizures, arrhythmias, and loss of consciousness. Serotonin syndrome is a clinical diagnosis; the Hunter Serotonin Toxicity Criteria are often used to make the diagnosis. To meet these criteria, a patient must have received a serotonergic agent, and at least one of the following must be present⁴:

• spontaneous clonus
• inducible clonus and agitation or diaphoresis
• ocular clonus and agitation or diaphoresis
• tremor and hyperreflexia
• hypertonia, temperature >38°C, and ocular clonus or inducible clonus.

For Ms. O, we suspected that administration of ketamine in conjunction with fluoxetine, 40 mg/d, led to serotonin syndrome. Ms. O exhibited ocular clonus and diaphoresis, thus satisfying the Hunter Serotonin Toxicity Criteria, and she also had inducible clonus, altered mental status, hypertension, and tachycardia, which makes serotonin syndrome the most likely diagnosis. She improved after receiving lorazepam, which is often used to treat hypertonicity, decrease autonomic instability, and prevent seizures seen in serotonin syndrome.⁵

Continue to: There is sparse literature...

There is sparse literature describing serotonin syndrome related to ketamine use. Ketamine has been shown to increase levels of glutamate in the medial prefrontal cortex. Higher levels of glutamine in turn stimulate excitatory glutamatergic neurons that project to the dorsal raphe nucleus. When stimulated, the dorsal raphe nucleus releases serotonin.⁶ There is also evidence that ketamine inhibits uptake of serotonin in synapses.⁷ These mechanisms combine to create a net increase in CNS-wide serotonin.

Ketamine is being increasingly used to treat depression and other conditions. This case report underscores the importance of considering serotonin syndrome when treating patients receiving ketamine, especially when it is used in conjunction with selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

The legal status of marijuana has changed a great deal during the last 4 decades. In the United States, several states have legalized the use of marijuana to treat several medical conditions. Some states have decriminalized marijuana possession, and several have legalized marijuana for recreational use by adults. These changes have contributed to a growing misperception among young people that marijuana is harmless or not as risky as other illicit substances.

In this article, I explore the effect the legalization of marijuana has had on young peoples’ attitudes toward its use.

Marijuana use among adolescents

Among adolescents, marijuana is the most commonly used illicit substance, after alcohol.¹ According to data from the 2019 Monitoring the Future Survey, while past month, past year, and lifetime marijuana use among 8th and 10th graders remained steady from 2018 to 2019, daily marijuana use among these adolescents increased.² This survey also reported increases in adolescent marijuana vaping from 2018 to 2019.² Further, the percentage of adolescents who think that the regular use of marijuana is risky has been trending down since the mid-2000s.²

Youth substance use rates depend on numerous factors, including legal status, availability, ease of access to the substance, and perception of harm.³ Although the legalization of marijuana for recreational use has been for adults only, based on rates of tobacco and alcohol use in adolescents (both of which are legal for adults), the legalization of marijuana is likely to have implications for adolescents.⁴

Adverse effects among adolescents

During adolescence, the brain is still developing, and marijuana use during this time could cause decreased cognitive functioning, especially executive functions.⁴ Marijuana use by adolescents also has been associated with^4,5:

• an increased risk of mental health disorders, including depression, anxiety, and psychosis, particularly among adolescents at higher risk, such as those with a family history of psychiatric illness
• a decline in school performance
• an increased school dropout rate
• an increased risk of marijuana de­pen­dence
• an elevated rate of engaging in risky behaviors.

Factors by which the legalization of marijuana might increase its use among adolescents include⁴:

• perceived decreased risk of marijuana use
• increased availability
• lower cost
• decreased fear of legal consequences of marijuana use.

Increased parental use is an indirect way in which legalization of marijuana for adult recreational use might increase use in youth.

Continue to: What the evidence says

Colorado legalized marijuana for medical use in 2000, and for adult recreational use in 2014. A 2012 study of adolescents receiving substance abuse treatment in Colorado found diversion of medical marijuana to these adolescents was common.⁶ This study also reported that compared with those who did not use medical marijuana, adolescents who used medical marijuana had an earlier age of regular marijuana use, more marijuana use disorder symptoms, and more symptoms of conduct disorder.⁶ However, data from the US Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration⁷ and from the Colorado Department of Public Health & Environment⁸ suggest that marijuana use among adolescents has not increased since legalization in Colorado.

In 2012, voters in Washington state legalized marijuana for recreational use. In 2013, Moreno et al⁹ interviewed college students in Washington, where marijuana had just been legalized, and Wisconsin, where it had not. In both states, most participants indicated that legalization would not change their attitude towards use. A small proportion of students felt that legalization would signify an endorsement of marijuana, and they were likely to perceive it as safe to use.

In an analysis of data on more than 250,000 students in 8th, 10th, and 12th grade, Cerdá et al¹⁰ found that after legalization in Washington, the perceived harmfulness of marijuana decreased and marijuana use increased among 8th and 10th graders in Washington; however, there were no significant differences noted among adolescents in Colorado.

In 2010, voters in California passed legislation to decriminalize marijuana. In an analysis of data from 8th, 10th, and 12th graders in California, Miech et al¹¹ found a positive correlation between decriminalization and increases in youth future marijuana use. They also found that compared with their peers in other states, 12thgraders in California were more likely to have used marijuana in the last 30 days, less likely to perceive marijuana use as a health risk, and less likely to disapprove of its use.¹¹

Although some studies have suggested that legalization of marijuana might increase use among adolescents, limitations of these studies include that they relied on self-reported use by adolescents, and they did not evaluate adolescent populations outside of school settings.

Continue to: Addressing adolescents' marijuana use

Strategies for preventing or reducing marijuana use among adolescents might include imposing restrictions and passing stricter laws on the sale of marijuana to individuals age <21, regulating marijuana advertising, increasing adolescent substance use prevention program initiatives, and educating youth about the negative effects of marijuana. Further research is needed to clearly establish if the legalization of marijuana for adult recreational use will increase its use among adolescents.

The legal status of marijuana has changed a great deal during the last 4 decades. In the United States, several states have legalized the use of marijuana to treat several medical conditions. Some states have decriminalized marijuana possession, and several have legalized marijuana for recreational use by adults. These changes have contributed to a growing misperception among young people that marijuana is harmless or not as risky as other illicit substances.

In this article, I explore the effect the legalization of marijuana has had on young peoples’ attitudes toward its use.

Marijuana use among adolescents

Among adolescents, marijuana is the most commonly used illicit substance, after alcohol.¹ According to data from the 2019 Monitoring the Future Survey, while past month, past year, and lifetime marijuana use among 8th and 10th graders remained steady from 2018 to 2019, daily marijuana use among these adolescents increased.² This survey also reported increases in adolescent marijuana vaping from 2018 to 2019.² Further, the percentage of adolescents who think that the regular use of marijuana is risky has been trending down since the mid-2000s.²

Youth substance use rates depend on numerous factors, including legal status, availability, ease of access to the substance, and perception of harm.³ Although the legalization of marijuana for recreational use has been for adults only, based on rates of tobacco and alcohol use in adolescents (both of which are legal for adults), the legalization of marijuana is likely to have implications for adolescents.⁴

Adverse effects among adolescents

During adolescence, the brain is still developing, and marijuana use during this time could cause decreased cognitive functioning, especially executive functions.⁴ Marijuana use by adolescents also has been associated with^4,5:

• an increased risk of mental health disorders, including depression, anxiety, and psychosis, particularly among adolescents at higher risk, such as those with a family history of psychiatric illness
• a decline in school performance
• an increased school dropout rate
• an increased risk of marijuana de­pen­dence
• an elevated rate of engaging in risky behaviors.

Factors by which the legalization of marijuana might increase its use among adolescents include⁴:

• perceived decreased risk of marijuana use
• increased availability
• lower cost
• decreased fear of legal consequences of marijuana use.

Increased parental use is an indirect way in which legalization of marijuana for adult recreational use might increase use in youth.

Continue to: What the evidence says

Colorado legalized marijuana for medical use in 2000, and for adult recreational use in 2014. A 2012 study of adolescents receiving substance abuse treatment in Colorado found diversion of medical marijuana to these adolescents was common.⁶ This study also reported that compared with those who did not use medical marijuana, adolescents who used medical marijuana had an earlier age of regular marijuana use, more marijuana use disorder symptoms, and more symptoms of conduct disorder.⁶ However, data from the US Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration⁷ and from the Colorado Department of Public Health & Environment⁸ suggest that marijuana use among adolescents has not increased since legalization in Colorado.

In 2012, voters in Washington state legalized marijuana for recreational use. In 2013, Moreno et al⁹ interviewed college students in Washington, where marijuana had just been legalized, and Wisconsin, where it had not. In both states, most participants indicated that legalization would not change their attitude towards use. A small proportion of students felt that legalization would signify an endorsement of marijuana, and they were likely to perceive it as safe to use.

In an analysis of data on more than 250,000 students in 8th, 10th, and 12th grade, Cerdá et al¹⁰ found that after legalization in Washington, the perceived harmfulness of marijuana decreased and marijuana use increased among 8th and 10th graders in Washington; however, there were no significant differences noted among adolescents in Colorado.

In 2010, voters in California passed legislation to decriminalize marijuana. In an analysis of data from 8th, 10th, and 12th graders in California, Miech et al¹¹ found a positive correlation between decriminalization and increases in youth future marijuana use. They also found that compared with their peers in other states, 12thgraders in California were more likely to have used marijuana in the last 30 days, less likely to perceive marijuana use as a health risk, and less likely to disapprove of its use.¹¹

Although some studies have suggested that legalization of marijuana might increase use among adolescents, limitations of these studies include that they relied on self-reported use by adolescents, and they did not evaluate adolescent populations outside of school settings.

Continue to: Addressing adolescents' marijuana use

Strategies for preventing or reducing marijuana use among adolescents might include imposing restrictions and passing stricter laws on the sale of marijuana to individuals age <21, regulating marijuana advertising, increasing adolescent substance use prevention program initiatives, and educating youth about the negative effects of marijuana. Further research is needed to clearly establish if the legalization of marijuana for adult recreational use will increase its use among adolescents.

The legal status of marijuana has changed a great deal during the last 4 decades. In the United States, several states have legalized the use of marijuana to treat several medical conditions. Some states have decriminalized marijuana possession, and several have legalized marijuana for recreational use by adults. These changes have contributed to a growing misperception among young people that marijuana is harmless or not as risky as other illicit substances.

In this article, I explore the effect the legalization of marijuana has had on young peoples’ attitudes toward its use.

Marijuana use among adolescents

Among adolescents, marijuana is the most commonly used illicit substance, after alcohol.¹ According to data from the 2019 Monitoring the Future Survey, while past month, past year, and lifetime marijuana use among 8th and 10th graders remained steady from 2018 to 2019, daily marijuana use among these adolescents increased.² This survey also reported increases in adolescent marijuana vaping from 2018 to 2019.² Further, the percentage of adolescents who think that the regular use of marijuana is risky has been trending down since the mid-2000s.²

Youth substance use rates depend on numerous factors, including legal status, availability, ease of access to the substance, and perception of harm.³ Although the legalization of marijuana for recreational use has been for adults only, based on rates of tobacco and alcohol use in adolescents (both of which are legal for adults), the legalization of marijuana is likely to have implications for adolescents.⁴

Adverse effects among adolescents

During adolescence, the brain is still developing, and marijuana use during this time could cause decreased cognitive functioning, especially executive functions.⁴ Marijuana use by adolescents also has been associated with^4,5:

• an increased risk of mental health disorders, including depression, anxiety, and psychosis, particularly among adolescents at higher risk, such as those with a family history of psychiatric illness
• a decline in school performance
• an increased school dropout rate
• an increased risk of marijuana de­pen­dence
• an elevated rate of engaging in risky behaviors.

Factors by which the legalization of marijuana might increase its use among adolescents include⁴:

• perceived decreased risk of marijuana use
• increased availability
• lower cost
• decreased fear of legal consequences of marijuana use.

Increased parental use is an indirect way in which legalization of marijuana for adult recreational use might increase use in youth.

Continue to: What the evidence says

Colorado legalized marijuana for medical use in 2000, and for adult recreational use in 2014. A 2012 study of adolescents receiving substance abuse treatment in Colorado found diversion of medical marijuana to these adolescents was common.⁶ This study also reported that compared with those who did not use medical marijuana, adolescents who used medical marijuana had an earlier age of regular marijuana use, more marijuana use disorder symptoms, and more symptoms of conduct disorder.⁶ However, data from the US Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration⁷ and from the Colorado Department of Public Health & Environment⁸ suggest that marijuana use among adolescents has not increased since legalization in Colorado.

In 2012, voters in Washington state legalized marijuana for recreational use. In 2013, Moreno et al⁹ interviewed college students in Washington, where marijuana had just been legalized, and Wisconsin, where it had not. In both states, most participants indicated that legalization would not change their attitude towards use. A small proportion of students felt that legalization would signify an endorsement of marijuana, and they were likely to perceive it as safe to use.

In an analysis of data on more than 250,000 students in 8th, 10th, and 12th grade, Cerdá et al¹⁰ found that after legalization in Washington, the perceived harmfulness of marijuana decreased and marijuana use increased among 8th and 10th graders in Washington; however, there were no significant differences noted among adolescents in Colorado.

In 2010, voters in California passed legislation to decriminalize marijuana. In an analysis of data from 8th, 10th, and 12th graders in California, Miech et al¹¹ found a positive correlation between decriminalization and increases in youth future marijuana use. They also found that compared with their peers in other states, 12thgraders in California were more likely to have used marijuana in the last 30 days, less likely to perceive marijuana use as a health risk, and less likely to disapprove of its use.¹¹

Although some studies have suggested that legalization of marijuana might increase use among adolescents, limitations of these studies include that they relied on self-reported use by adolescents, and they did not evaluate adolescent populations outside of school settings.

Continue to: Addressing adolescents' marijuana use

Strategies for preventing or reducing marijuana use among adolescents might include imposing restrictions and passing stricter laws on the sale of marijuana to individuals age <21, regulating marijuana advertising, increasing adolescent substance use prevention program initiatives, and educating youth about the negative effects of marijuana. Further research is needed to clearly establish if the legalization of marijuana for adult recreational use will increase its use among adolescents.