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In psychiatry, patients come to us with their list of symptoms, often a diagnosis they’ve made themselves, and the expectation that they will be given medication to fix their problem. Their diagnoses are often right on target – people often know if they are depressed or anxious, and Doctor Google may provide useful information.

Sometimes they want a specific medication, one they saw in a TV ad, or one that helped them in the past or has helped someone they know. As psychiatrists have focused more on their strengths as psychopharmacologists and less on psychotherapy, it gets easy for both the patient and the doctor to look to medication, cocktails, and titration as the only thing we do.

“My medicine stopped working,” is a line I commonly hear. Often the patient is on a complicated regimen that has been serving them well, and it seems unlikely that the five psychotropic medications they are taking have suddenly “stopped working.” An obvious exception is the SSRI “poop out” that can occur 6-12 months or more after beginning treatment. In addition, it’s important to make sure patients are taking their medications as prescribed, and that the generic formulations have not changed.

But as rates of mental illness increase, some of it spurred on by difficult times, it is important to talk with patients about other factors that contribute to psychiatric conditions and to empower them to see their illnesses as something other than deranged brain chemicals in need of a medication fix.

This is not to devalue our medications, but to help the patient see symptoms as having multiple factors and give them some means to intervene, in addition to medications. At the beginning of therapy, it is important to “prescribe” lifestyle changes that will facilitate the best possible outcomes.
 

Nonpharmaceutical prescriptions

Early in my career, people with alcohol use problems were told they needed to be substance free before they were candidates for antidepressants. While we no longer do that, it is still important to emphasize abstinence from addictive substances, and to recommend specific treatment when necessary.

Patients are often reluctant to see their use of alcohol, marijuana (it’s medical! It’s part of wellness!), or their pain medications as part of the problem, and this can be difficult. There have been times, after multiple medications have failed to help their symptoms, when I have said, “If you don’t get treatment for this problem, I am not going to be able to help you feel better” and that has been motivating for the patient.

There are other “prescriptions” to write. Regular sleep is essential for people with mood disorders, and this can be difficult for many patients, especially those who do shift work, or who have regular disruptions to their sleep from noise, pets, and children. Exercise is wonderful for the cardiovascular system, calms anxiety, and maintains strength, endurance, mobility, and quality of life as people age. But it can be a hard sell to people in a mental health crisis.

Nature is healing, and sunshine helps with maintaining circadian rhythms. For those who don’t exercise, I often “prescribe” 20 to 30 minutes a day of walking, preferably outside, during daylight hours, in a park or natural setting. For people with anxiety, it is important to check their caffeine consumption and to suggest ways to moderate it – moving to decaffeinated beverages or titrating down by mixing decaf with caffeinated.

Meditation is something that many people find helpful. For anxious people, it can be very difficult, and I will prescribe a specific instructional video course that I like on the well-being app InsightTimer – Sarah Blondin’s Learn How to Meditate in Seven Days. The sessions are approximately 10 minutes long, and that seems like the right amount of time for a beginner.

When people are very ill and don’t want to go into the hospital, I talk with them about things that happen in the hospital that are helpful, things they can try to mimic at home. In the hospital, patients don’t go to work, they don’t spend hours a day on the computer, and they are given a pass from dealing with the routine stresses of daily life.

I ask them to take time off work, to avoid as much stress as possible, to spend time with loved ones who give them comfort, and to avoid the people who leave them feeling drained or distressed. I ask them to engage in activities they find healing, to eat well, exercise, and avoid social media. In the hospital, I emphasize, they wake patients up in the morning, ask them to get out of bed and engage in therapeutic activities. They are fed and kept from intoxicants.

When it comes to nutrition, we know so little about how food affects mental health. I feel like it can’t hurt to ask people to avoid fast foods, soft drinks, and processed foods, and so I do.

And what about compliance? Of course, not everyone complies; not everyone is interested in making changes and these can be hard changes. I’ve recently started to recommend the book Atomic Habits by James Clear. Sometimes a bit of motivational interviewing can also be helpful in getting people to look at slowly moving toward making changes.

In prescribing lifestyle changes, it is important to offer most of these changes as suggestions, not as things we insist on, or that will leave the patient feeling ashamed if he doesn’t follow through. They should be discussed early in treatment so that patients don’t feel blamed for their illness or relapses. As with all the things we prescribe, some of these behavior changes help some of the people some of the time. Suggesting them, however, makes the strong statement that treating psychiatric disorders can be about more than passively swallowing a pill.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

In psychiatry, patients come to us with their list of symptoms, often a diagnosis they’ve made themselves, and the expectation that they will be given medication to fix their problem. Their diagnoses are often right on target – people often know if they are depressed or anxious, and Doctor Google may provide useful information.

Sometimes they want a specific medication, one they saw in a TV ad, or one that helped them in the past or has helped someone they know. As psychiatrists have focused more on their strengths as psychopharmacologists and less on psychotherapy, it gets easy for both the patient and the doctor to look to medication, cocktails, and titration as the only thing we do.

“My medicine stopped working,” is a line I commonly hear. Often the patient is on a complicated regimen that has been serving them well, and it seems unlikely that the five psychotropic medications they are taking have suddenly “stopped working.” An obvious exception is the SSRI “poop out” that can occur 6-12 months or more after beginning treatment. In addition, it’s important to make sure patients are taking their medications as prescribed, and that the generic formulations have not changed.

But as rates of mental illness increase, some of it spurred on by difficult times, it is important to talk with patients about other factors that contribute to psychiatric conditions and to empower them to see their illnesses as something other than deranged brain chemicals in need of a medication fix.

This is not to devalue our medications, but to help the patient see symptoms as having multiple factors and give them some means to intervene, in addition to medications. At the beginning of therapy, it is important to “prescribe” lifestyle changes that will facilitate the best possible outcomes.
 

Nonpharmaceutical prescriptions

Early in my career, people with alcohol use problems were told they needed to be substance free before they were candidates for antidepressants. While we no longer do that, it is still important to emphasize abstinence from addictive substances, and to recommend specific treatment when necessary.

Patients are often reluctant to see their use of alcohol, marijuana (it’s medical! It’s part of wellness!), or their pain medications as part of the problem, and this can be difficult. There have been times, after multiple medications have failed to help their symptoms, when I have said, “If you don’t get treatment for this problem, I am not going to be able to help you feel better” and that has been motivating for the patient.

There are other “prescriptions” to write. Regular sleep is essential for people with mood disorders, and this can be difficult for many patients, especially those who do shift work, or who have regular disruptions to their sleep from noise, pets, and children. Exercise is wonderful for the cardiovascular system, calms anxiety, and maintains strength, endurance, mobility, and quality of life as people age. But it can be a hard sell to people in a mental health crisis.

Nature is healing, and sunshine helps with maintaining circadian rhythms. For those who don’t exercise, I often “prescribe” 20 to 30 minutes a day of walking, preferably outside, during daylight hours, in a park or natural setting. For people with anxiety, it is important to check their caffeine consumption and to suggest ways to moderate it – moving to decaffeinated beverages or titrating down by mixing decaf with caffeinated.

Meditation is something that many people find helpful. For anxious people, it can be very difficult, and I will prescribe a specific instructional video course that I like on the well-being app InsightTimer – Sarah Blondin’s Learn How to Meditate in Seven Days. The sessions are approximately 10 minutes long, and that seems like the right amount of time for a beginner.

When people are very ill and don’t want to go into the hospital, I talk with them about things that happen in the hospital that are helpful, things they can try to mimic at home. In the hospital, patients don’t go to work, they don’t spend hours a day on the computer, and they are given a pass from dealing with the routine stresses of daily life.

I ask them to take time off work, to avoid as much stress as possible, to spend time with loved ones who give them comfort, and to avoid the people who leave them feeling drained or distressed. I ask them to engage in activities they find healing, to eat well, exercise, and avoid social media. In the hospital, I emphasize, they wake patients up in the morning, ask them to get out of bed and engage in therapeutic activities. They are fed and kept from intoxicants.

When it comes to nutrition, we know so little about how food affects mental health. I feel like it can’t hurt to ask people to avoid fast foods, soft drinks, and processed foods, and so I do.

And what about compliance? Of course, not everyone complies; not everyone is interested in making changes and these can be hard changes. I’ve recently started to recommend the book Atomic Habits by James Clear. Sometimes a bit of motivational interviewing can also be helpful in getting people to look at slowly moving toward making changes.

In prescribing lifestyle changes, it is important to offer most of these changes as suggestions, not as things we insist on, or that will leave the patient feeling ashamed if he doesn’t follow through. They should be discussed early in treatment so that patients don’t feel blamed for their illness or relapses. As with all the things we prescribe, some of these behavior changes help some of the people some of the time. Suggesting them, however, makes the strong statement that treating psychiatric disorders can be about more than passively swallowing a pill.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

In psychiatry, patients come to us with their list of symptoms, often a diagnosis they’ve made themselves, and the expectation that they will be given medication to fix their problem. Their diagnoses are often right on target – people often know if they are depressed or anxious, and Doctor Google may provide useful information.

Sometimes they want a specific medication, one they saw in a TV ad, or one that helped them in the past or has helped someone they know. As psychiatrists have focused more on their strengths as psychopharmacologists and less on psychotherapy, it gets easy for both the patient and the doctor to look to medication, cocktails, and titration as the only thing we do.

“My medicine stopped working,” is a line I commonly hear. Often the patient is on a complicated regimen that has been serving them well, and it seems unlikely that the five psychotropic medications they are taking have suddenly “stopped working.” An obvious exception is the SSRI “poop out” that can occur 6-12 months or more after beginning treatment. In addition, it’s important to make sure patients are taking their medications as prescribed, and that the generic formulations have not changed.

But as rates of mental illness increase, some of it spurred on by difficult times, it is important to talk with patients about other factors that contribute to psychiatric conditions and to empower them to see their illnesses as something other than deranged brain chemicals in need of a medication fix.

This is not to devalue our medications, but to help the patient see symptoms as having multiple factors and give them some means to intervene, in addition to medications. At the beginning of therapy, it is important to “prescribe” lifestyle changes that will facilitate the best possible outcomes.
 

Nonpharmaceutical prescriptions

Early in my career, people with alcohol use problems were told they needed to be substance free before they were candidates for antidepressants. While we no longer do that, it is still important to emphasize abstinence from addictive substances, and to recommend specific treatment when necessary.

Patients are often reluctant to see their use of alcohol, marijuana (it’s medical! It’s part of wellness!), or their pain medications as part of the problem, and this can be difficult. There have been times, after multiple medications have failed to help their symptoms, when I have said, “If you don’t get treatment for this problem, I am not going to be able to help you feel better” and that has been motivating for the patient.

There are other “prescriptions” to write. Regular sleep is essential for people with mood disorders, and this can be difficult for many patients, especially those who do shift work, or who have regular disruptions to their sleep from noise, pets, and children. Exercise is wonderful for the cardiovascular system, calms anxiety, and maintains strength, endurance, mobility, and quality of life as people age. But it can be a hard sell to people in a mental health crisis.

Nature is healing, and sunshine helps with maintaining circadian rhythms. For those who don’t exercise, I often “prescribe” 20 to 30 minutes a day of walking, preferably outside, during daylight hours, in a park or natural setting. For people with anxiety, it is important to check their caffeine consumption and to suggest ways to moderate it – moving to decaffeinated beverages or titrating down by mixing decaf with caffeinated.

Meditation is something that many people find helpful. For anxious people, it can be very difficult, and I will prescribe a specific instructional video course that I like on the well-being app InsightTimer – Sarah Blondin’s Learn How to Meditate in Seven Days. The sessions are approximately 10 minutes long, and that seems like the right amount of time for a beginner.

When people are very ill and don’t want to go into the hospital, I talk with them about things that happen in the hospital that are helpful, things they can try to mimic at home. In the hospital, patients don’t go to work, they don’t spend hours a day on the computer, and they are given a pass from dealing with the routine stresses of daily life.

I ask them to take time off work, to avoid as much stress as possible, to spend time with loved ones who give them comfort, and to avoid the people who leave them feeling drained or distressed. I ask them to engage in activities they find healing, to eat well, exercise, and avoid social media. In the hospital, I emphasize, they wake patients up in the morning, ask them to get out of bed and engage in therapeutic activities. They are fed and kept from intoxicants.

When it comes to nutrition, we know so little about how food affects mental health. I feel like it can’t hurt to ask people to avoid fast foods, soft drinks, and processed foods, and so I do.

And what about compliance? Of course, not everyone complies; not everyone is interested in making changes and these can be hard changes. I’ve recently started to recommend the book Atomic Habits by James Clear. Sometimes a bit of motivational interviewing can also be helpful in getting people to look at slowly moving toward making changes.

In prescribing lifestyle changes, it is important to offer most of these changes as suggestions, not as things we insist on, or that will leave the patient feeling ashamed if he doesn’t follow through. They should be discussed early in treatment so that patients don’t feel blamed for their illness or relapses. As with all the things we prescribe, some of these behavior changes help some of the people some of the time. Suggesting them, however, makes the strong statement that treating psychiatric disorders can be about more than passively swallowing a pill.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

I remember what it was like to be a medical student at a well-known cancer hospital where patients were dying of cancer. In life’s final stages, it was not uncommon for physicians to increase the dose of morphine; it alleviated pain, eased labored breathing, and yes, probably hastened the inevitable for patients who were in their final hours. In these scenarios, no one considered this euthanasia, and no one questioned whether it was the right thing to do.

Fast-forward to 2023 when the act of a physician hastening a patient’s death has become a controversial topic as criteria have expanded. Like all such topics in our polarized society, people aligned on sides, politics and religion rush to the head of the room, legislation is proposed, and words take on new meanings. If you’re in favor of legalization of clinician assistance in a patient’s death, the term is “medical assistance in dying”. If you’re opposed, the term is the more graphic physician-assisted suicide.

The scenario is entirely different from what I saw in my medical school rotations decades ago. It’s no longer an issue of easing the pain and discomfort of patients’ final hours; the question now is whether, faced with a potentially terminal or progressively debilitating physical illness, a patient has the right to determine when, and how, their life will end, and the medical profession is given a role in this.

In many places the bar has been further lowered to incorporate nonterminal conditions, and Belgium and the Netherlands now allow physician-facilitated suicide for psychiatric conditions, a practice that many find reprehensible. In these countries, patients may be provided with medications to ingest, but psychiatrists also administer lethal injections.

While Belgium and the Netherlands were the first countries to legalize physician-facilitated death, it could be argued that Canada has embraced it with the most gusto; physician-assisted suicide has been legal there since 2016.

Canada already has the largest number of physician-assisted deaths of any nation, with 10,064 in 2021 – an increase of 32% from 2020. The Canadian federal government is currently considering adding serious mental illness as an eligible category. If this law passes, the country will have the most liberal assisted-death policy in the world. The Canadian government planned to make serious mental illness an eligible category in March 2023, but in an eleventh-hour announcement, it deferred its decision until March 2024.

In a press release, the government said that the 1-year extension would “provide additional time to prepare for the safe and consistent assessment and provision of MAID in all cases, including where the person’s sole underlying medical condition is a mental illness. It will also allow time for the Government of Canada to fully consider the final report of the Special Joint Committee on MAID, tabled in Parliament on Feb. 15, 2023.”

As a psychiatrist who treats patients with treatment-refractory conditions, I have watched people undergo trial after trial of medications while having psychotherapy, and sometimes transcranial magnetic stimulation or electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). The thing that is sustaining for patients is the hope that they will get better and go on to find meaning and purpose in life, even if it is not in the form they once envisioned.

To offer the option of a death facilitated by the very person who is trying to get them better seems so counter to everything I have learned and contradicts our role as psychiatrists who work so hard to prevent suicide.

Where is the line, one wonders, when the patient has not responded to two medications or 12? Must they have ECT before we consider helping them end their lives? Do we try for 6 months or 6 years? What about new research pointing to better medications or psychedelics that are not yet available? According to Canada’s proposed legislation, the patient must be aware that treatment options exist, including facilitated suicide.

Physician-assisted suicide for psychiatric conditions creates a conundrum for psychiatrists. As mental health professionals, we work to prevent suicide and view it as an act that is frequently fueled by depression. Those who are determined to die by their own hand often do. Depression distorts cognition and leads many patients to believe that they would be better off dead and that their loved ones would be better off without them.

These cognitive distortions are part of their illness. So, how do we, as psychiatrists, move from a stance of preventing suicide – using measures such as involuntary treatment when necessary – to being the people who offer and facilitate death for our patients? I’ll leave this for my Canadian colleagues to contemplate, as I live in a state where assisted suicide for any condition remains illegal.

As Canada moves toward facilitating death for serious mental illness, we have to wonder whether racial or socioeconomic factors will play a role. Might those who are poor, who have less access to expensive treatment options and social support, be more likely to request facilitated death? And how do we determine whether patients with serious mental illness are competent to make such a decision or whether it is mental illness that is driving their perception of a future without hope?

As psychiatrists, we often struggle to help our patients overcome the stigma associated with treatments for mental illness. Still, patients often refuse potentially helpful treatments because they worry about the consequences of getting care. These include career repercussions and the disapproval of others. When this legislation is finally passed, will our Canadian colleagues offer it as an option when their patient refuses lithium or antipsychotics, inpatient care, or ECT?

Susan Kalish, MD, is a geriatric and palliative care physician in Boston who favors the availability of facilitated death. She practices in a state where this option is not available.

She told me that she is “in favor of expanding acceptance of, and access to, medical aid in dying for patients who choose to exercise autonomy over their dying process, for those who remain with irremediable suffering, despite provision of optimal palliative care.” However, she added, some countries have lowered the threshold “way too far.”

She noted, “It is complicated and harmful to the general issue of medical aid in dying.”

As psychiatrists, do we offer hope to our most vulnerable patients, or do we offer death? Do we rail against suicide, or do we facilitate it? Do we risk facilitating a patient’s demise when other options are unavailable because of a lack of access to treatment or when social and financial struggles exacerbate a person’s hopelessness? Should we worry that psychiatric euthanasia will turn into a form of eugenics where those who can’t contribute are made to feel that they should bow out? If we, as psychiatrists, aren’t the emissaries of hope, who exactly are we?

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

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

I remember what it was like to be a medical student at a well-known cancer hospital where patients were dying of cancer. In life’s final stages, it was not uncommon for physicians to increase the dose of morphine; it alleviated pain, eased labored breathing, and yes, probably hastened the inevitable for patients who were in their final hours. In these scenarios, no one considered this euthanasia, and no one questioned whether it was the right thing to do.

Fast-forward to 2023 when the act of a physician hastening a patient’s death has become a controversial topic as criteria have expanded. Like all such topics in our polarized society, people aligned on sides, politics and religion rush to the head of the room, legislation is proposed, and words take on new meanings. If you’re in favor of legalization of clinician assistance in a patient’s death, the term is “medical assistance in dying”. If you’re opposed, the term is the more graphic physician-assisted suicide.

The scenario is entirely different from what I saw in my medical school rotations decades ago. It’s no longer an issue of easing the pain and discomfort of patients’ final hours; the question now is whether, faced with a potentially terminal or progressively debilitating physical illness, a patient has the right to determine when, and how, their life will end, and the medical profession is given a role in this.

In many places the bar has been further lowered to incorporate nonterminal conditions, and Belgium and the Netherlands now allow physician-facilitated suicide for psychiatric conditions, a practice that many find reprehensible. In these countries, patients may be provided with medications to ingest, but psychiatrists also administer lethal injections.

While Belgium and the Netherlands were the first countries to legalize physician-facilitated death, it could be argued that Canada has embraced it with the most gusto; physician-assisted suicide has been legal there since 2016.

Canada already has the largest number of physician-assisted deaths of any nation, with 10,064 in 2021 – an increase of 32% from 2020. The Canadian federal government is currently considering adding serious mental illness as an eligible category. If this law passes, the country will have the most liberal assisted-death policy in the world. The Canadian government planned to make serious mental illness an eligible category in March 2023, but in an eleventh-hour announcement, it deferred its decision until March 2024.

In a press release, the government said that the 1-year extension would “provide additional time to prepare for the safe and consistent assessment and provision of MAID in all cases, including where the person’s sole underlying medical condition is a mental illness. It will also allow time for the Government of Canada to fully consider the final report of the Special Joint Committee on MAID, tabled in Parliament on Feb. 15, 2023.”

As a psychiatrist who treats patients with treatment-refractory conditions, I have watched people undergo trial after trial of medications while having psychotherapy, and sometimes transcranial magnetic stimulation or electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). The thing that is sustaining for patients is the hope that they will get better and go on to find meaning and purpose in life, even if it is not in the form they once envisioned.

To offer the option of a death facilitated by the very person who is trying to get them better seems so counter to everything I have learned and contradicts our role as psychiatrists who work so hard to prevent suicide.

Where is the line, one wonders, when the patient has not responded to two medications or 12? Must they have ECT before we consider helping them end their lives? Do we try for 6 months or 6 years? What about new research pointing to better medications or psychedelics that are not yet available? According to Canada’s proposed legislation, the patient must be aware that treatment options exist, including facilitated suicide.

Physician-assisted suicide for psychiatric conditions creates a conundrum for psychiatrists. As mental health professionals, we work to prevent suicide and view it as an act that is frequently fueled by depression. Those who are determined to die by their own hand often do. Depression distorts cognition and leads many patients to believe that they would be better off dead and that their loved ones would be better off without them.

These cognitive distortions are part of their illness. So, how do we, as psychiatrists, move from a stance of preventing suicide – using measures such as involuntary treatment when necessary – to being the people who offer and facilitate death for our patients? I’ll leave this for my Canadian colleagues to contemplate, as I live in a state where assisted suicide for any condition remains illegal.

As Canada moves toward facilitating death for serious mental illness, we have to wonder whether racial or socioeconomic factors will play a role. Might those who are poor, who have less access to expensive treatment options and social support, be more likely to request facilitated death? And how do we determine whether patients with serious mental illness are competent to make such a decision or whether it is mental illness that is driving their perception of a future without hope?

As psychiatrists, we often struggle to help our patients overcome the stigma associated with treatments for mental illness. Still, patients often refuse potentially helpful treatments because they worry about the consequences of getting care. These include career repercussions and the disapproval of others. When this legislation is finally passed, will our Canadian colleagues offer it as an option when their patient refuses lithium or antipsychotics, inpatient care, or ECT?

Susan Kalish, MD, is a geriatric and palliative care physician in Boston who favors the availability of facilitated death. She practices in a state where this option is not available.

She told me that she is “in favor of expanding acceptance of, and access to, medical aid in dying for patients who choose to exercise autonomy over their dying process, for those who remain with irremediable suffering, despite provision of optimal palliative care.” However, she added, some countries have lowered the threshold “way too far.”

She noted, “It is complicated and harmful to the general issue of medical aid in dying.”

As psychiatrists, do we offer hope to our most vulnerable patients, or do we offer death? Do we rail against suicide, or do we facilitate it? Do we risk facilitating a patient’s demise when other options are unavailable because of a lack of access to treatment or when social and financial struggles exacerbate a person’s hopelessness? Should we worry that psychiatric euthanasia will turn into a form of eugenics where those who can’t contribute are made to feel that they should bow out? If we, as psychiatrists, aren’t the emissaries of hope, who exactly are we?

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

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

I remember what it was like to be a medical student at a well-known cancer hospital where patients were dying of cancer. In life’s final stages, it was not uncommon for physicians to increase the dose of morphine; it alleviated pain, eased labored breathing, and yes, probably hastened the inevitable for patients who were in their final hours. In these scenarios, no one considered this euthanasia, and no one questioned whether it was the right thing to do.

Fast-forward to 2023 when the act of a physician hastening a patient’s death has become a controversial topic as criteria have expanded. Like all such topics in our polarized society, people aligned on sides, politics and religion rush to the head of the room, legislation is proposed, and words take on new meanings. If you’re in favor of legalization of clinician assistance in a patient’s death, the term is “medical assistance in dying”. If you’re opposed, the term is the more graphic physician-assisted suicide.

The scenario is entirely different from what I saw in my medical school rotations decades ago. It’s no longer an issue of easing the pain and discomfort of patients’ final hours; the question now is whether, faced with a potentially terminal or progressively debilitating physical illness, a patient has the right to determine when, and how, their life will end, and the medical profession is given a role in this.

In many places the bar has been further lowered to incorporate nonterminal conditions, and Belgium and the Netherlands now allow physician-facilitated suicide for psychiatric conditions, a practice that many find reprehensible. In these countries, patients may be provided with medications to ingest, but psychiatrists also administer lethal injections.

While Belgium and the Netherlands were the first countries to legalize physician-facilitated death, it could be argued that Canada has embraced it with the most gusto; physician-assisted suicide has been legal there since 2016.

Canada already has the largest number of physician-assisted deaths of any nation, with 10,064 in 2021 – an increase of 32% from 2020. The Canadian federal government is currently considering adding serious mental illness as an eligible category. If this law passes, the country will have the most liberal assisted-death policy in the world. The Canadian government planned to make serious mental illness an eligible category in March 2023, but in an eleventh-hour announcement, it deferred its decision until March 2024.

In a press release, the government said that the 1-year extension would “provide additional time to prepare for the safe and consistent assessment and provision of MAID in all cases, including where the person’s sole underlying medical condition is a mental illness. It will also allow time for the Government of Canada to fully consider the final report of the Special Joint Committee on MAID, tabled in Parliament on Feb. 15, 2023.”

As a psychiatrist who treats patients with treatment-refractory conditions, I have watched people undergo trial after trial of medications while having psychotherapy, and sometimes transcranial magnetic stimulation or electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). The thing that is sustaining for patients is the hope that they will get better and go on to find meaning and purpose in life, even if it is not in the form they once envisioned.

To offer the option of a death facilitated by the very person who is trying to get them better seems so counter to everything I have learned and contradicts our role as psychiatrists who work so hard to prevent suicide.

Where is the line, one wonders, when the patient has not responded to two medications or 12? Must they have ECT before we consider helping them end their lives? Do we try for 6 months or 6 years? What about new research pointing to better medications or psychedelics that are not yet available? According to Canada’s proposed legislation, the patient must be aware that treatment options exist, including facilitated suicide.

Physician-assisted suicide for psychiatric conditions creates a conundrum for psychiatrists. As mental health professionals, we work to prevent suicide and view it as an act that is frequently fueled by depression. Those who are determined to die by their own hand often do. Depression distorts cognition and leads many patients to believe that they would be better off dead and that their loved ones would be better off without them.

These cognitive distortions are part of their illness. So, how do we, as psychiatrists, move from a stance of preventing suicide – using measures such as involuntary treatment when necessary – to being the people who offer and facilitate death for our patients? I’ll leave this for my Canadian colleagues to contemplate, as I live in a state where assisted suicide for any condition remains illegal.

As Canada moves toward facilitating death for serious mental illness, we have to wonder whether racial or socioeconomic factors will play a role. Might those who are poor, who have less access to expensive treatment options and social support, be more likely to request facilitated death? And how do we determine whether patients with serious mental illness are competent to make such a decision or whether it is mental illness that is driving their perception of a future without hope?

As psychiatrists, we often struggle to help our patients overcome the stigma associated with treatments for mental illness. Still, patients often refuse potentially helpful treatments because they worry about the consequences of getting care. These include career repercussions and the disapproval of others. When this legislation is finally passed, will our Canadian colleagues offer it as an option when their patient refuses lithium or antipsychotics, inpatient care, or ECT?

Susan Kalish, MD, is a geriatric and palliative care physician in Boston who favors the availability of facilitated death. She practices in a state where this option is not available.

She told me that she is “in favor of expanding acceptance of, and access to, medical aid in dying for patients who choose to exercise autonomy over their dying process, for those who remain with irremediable suffering, despite provision of optimal palliative care.” However, she added, some countries have lowered the threshold “way too far.”

She noted, “It is complicated and harmful to the general issue of medical aid in dying.”

As psychiatrists, do we offer hope to our most vulnerable patients, or do we offer death? Do we rail against suicide, or do we facilitate it? Do we risk facilitating a patient’s demise when other options are unavailable because of a lack of access to treatment or when social and financial struggles exacerbate a person’s hopelessness? Should we worry that psychiatric euthanasia will turn into a form of eugenics where those who can’t contribute are made to feel that they should bow out? If we, as psychiatrists, aren’t the emissaries of hope, who exactly are we?

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

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

Narcissists appear to be everywhere. A few minutes on the Internet shows the dangers of narcissistic romantic partners, friends, and employers. Identifying and limiting the reach of their manipulative and self-centered endeavors is cast as both urgent and necessary. The destructive powers of the narcissistic mother are viewed as especially in need of remedy, and any bookstore can reveal the risks they pose: “Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers;” “You’re Not Crazy – It’s Your Mother: Freedom for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers;” “Healing for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers: A Practical Guide on How to Recover from the Childhood Trauma of Toxic Relationship with Your Mother and How You Can Handle Her Abuse Now As An Adult” – to name just a few (there are more).

As a psychologist specializing in parental estrangement, I (Dr. Coleman) regularly see letters from adult children explaining their discovery-through-therapy that their mother is a narcissist. The proclamation often comes when the therapist has never met the mother. Typically, the discovery is presented as a justification for ending the relationship with the parent. While these mothers could rightly be accused of being anxious, over-involved, depressed, or hurt by the lack of gratitude or reciprocity, the vast majority are not narcissists.

Blaming mothers has a long reach. Mothers have been blamed for causing schizophrenia, autism, homosexuality, and effeminacy in men. While we used to call people selfish and “controlling,” narcissism is a more consequential label as it confers diagnostic validity from the mental health profession. Worse, it suggests an individual beyond reach, where the only answer is distance, containment, or estrangement.

The rise of the narcissistic mother comes during a time when, for the past 4 decades, the average working mother spends more time with her children than stay-at-home moms did in the supposed halcyon days of the 1960s’ middle class, before “parenting” was a common term. A variety of economists and sociologists observed that an increase in parental effort became necessary to launch children into adulthood given the retreat of governmental and corporate support for parents that began in the 1980s.

“The financial and emotional burden on families has grown in ways that were almost unimaginable just a half-century ago,” writes the University of Pennsylvania sociologist Frank Furstenberg in “On a New Schedule: Transitions to Adulthood and Family Change.” In addition, a view of children as vulnerable and in need of intense parental investment gained momentum over the course of the 20th century and has continued unabated into the present. As a result, an environment of intense maternal preoccupation, worry, guilt, and involvement with children’s grades, safety, health, and emotional states – referred to as “helicopter” and “tiger” mothering – grew into the norm across the classes.

While prior generations of parents could, by today’s standards, be viewed as being insufficiently involved, today’s parents have become “over-involved” – aided by the ability of parents to be in constant contact with their adult children through technology. While this shift to a more hands-on, more conscientious parenting has been a boon to parent–adult child relationships in the main, the downside has meant, for some, too much of a good thing. From that perspective, pathologizing a mother’s involvement or her expressions of hurt for that child’s lack of availability provides a shield against the child’s feelings of guilt or obligation.

Diagnoses can serve a social purpose: They can allow individuals to use the authority of our profession to decide who to be close to and who to let go. They can provide insulation against feelings of obligation or guilt. They create a way to label behavior as dysfunctional that in other eras or cultures would be considered normal, even valued. To that extent, diagnoses don’t occur in a cultural void. They are inextricably tied to larger ideals, be they individualistic – as exists in the United States – or collectivist, as exists in many other parts of the world.

While we have decided what parents owe our children, it is unclear what parents might ask in return. To that end, mothers who want more interest, availability, or gratitude today are vulnerable to being cast as selfish, uncaring, needy, and controlling. They can now be viewed as failing in their task of selfless devotion. Their desires for closeness or repair can be regarded as incompatible with the quest for the adult child’s self-fulfillment and identity; her identification with her children too great a barrier to their individuation.

There may well be good reasons to estrange family members for their intolerable behaviors, especially ones who have threatened personal safety. Yet, while there are plenty of problematic parents, few meet the diagnostic criteria of narcissistic personality disorder. More important, such labels can discourage a discussion of boundaries that both the parents and the adult children might find acceptable – which sometimes means asking family members to tolerate behavior or individuals not to their liking.

Diagnoses carry enormous social weight and can facilitate estrangements or negativity to mothers that are far more workable than our patients’ characterization of them might lead them or us to believe. Wrongly labeling mothers as narcissists greatly oversimplifies their lives and struggles; it devalues their years of love and dedication, however flawed; and it weakens the fabric of connection that could otherwise exist. Rather than provide a path toward compassion or understanding, “narcissistic mother” just becomes the latest form of mommy shaming.

Dr. Coleman is a clinical psychologist and author of “Rules of Estrangement: Why Adult Children Cut Ties and How to Heal the Conflict” (New York: Penguin Random House, 2021). Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

Narcissists appear to be everywhere. A few minutes on the Internet shows the dangers of narcissistic romantic partners, friends, and employers. Identifying and limiting the reach of their manipulative and self-centered endeavors is cast as both urgent and necessary. The destructive powers of the narcissistic mother are viewed as especially in need of remedy, and any bookstore can reveal the risks they pose: “Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers;” “You’re Not Crazy – It’s Your Mother: Freedom for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers;” “Healing for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers: A Practical Guide on How to Recover from the Childhood Trauma of Toxic Relationship with Your Mother and How You Can Handle Her Abuse Now As An Adult” – to name just a few (there are more).

As a psychologist specializing in parental estrangement, I (Dr. Coleman) regularly see letters from adult children explaining their discovery-through-therapy that their mother is a narcissist. The proclamation often comes when the therapist has never met the mother. Typically, the discovery is presented as a justification for ending the relationship with the parent. While these mothers could rightly be accused of being anxious, over-involved, depressed, or hurt by the lack of gratitude or reciprocity, the vast majority are not narcissists.

Blaming mothers has a long reach. Mothers have been blamed for causing schizophrenia, autism, homosexuality, and effeminacy in men. While we used to call people selfish and “controlling,” narcissism is a more consequential label as it confers diagnostic validity from the mental health profession. Worse, it suggests an individual beyond reach, where the only answer is distance, containment, or estrangement.

The rise of the narcissistic mother comes during a time when, for the past 4 decades, the average working mother spends more time with her children than stay-at-home moms did in the supposed halcyon days of the 1960s’ middle class, before “parenting” was a common term. A variety of economists and sociologists observed that an increase in parental effort became necessary to launch children into adulthood given the retreat of governmental and corporate support for parents that began in the 1980s.

“The financial and emotional burden on families has grown in ways that were almost unimaginable just a half-century ago,” writes the University of Pennsylvania sociologist Frank Furstenberg in “On a New Schedule: Transitions to Adulthood and Family Change.” In addition, a view of children as vulnerable and in need of intense parental investment gained momentum over the course of the 20th century and has continued unabated into the present. As a result, an environment of intense maternal preoccupation, worry, guilt, and involvement with children’s grades, safety, health, and emotional states – referred to as “helicopter” and “tiger” mothering – grew into the norm across the classes.

While prior generations of parents could, by today’s standards, be viewed as being insufficiently involved, today’s parents have become “over-involved” – aided by the ability of parents to be in constant contact with their adult children through technology. While this shift to a more hands-on, more conscientious parenting has been a boon to parent–adult child relationships in the main, the downside has meant, for some, too much of a good thing. From that perspective, pathologizing a mother’s involvement or her expressions of hurt for that child’s lack of availability provides a shield against the child’s feelings of guilt or obligation.

Diagnoses can serve a social purpose: They can allow individuals to use the authority of our profession to decide who to be close to and who to let go. They can provide insulation against feelings of obligation or guilt. They create a way to label behavior as dysfunctional that in other eras or cultures would be considered normal, even valued. To that extent, diagnoses don’t occur in a cultural void. They are inextricably tied to larger ideals, be they individualistic – as exists in the United States – or collectivist, as exists in many other parts of the world.

While we have decided what parents owe our children, it is unclear what parents might ask in return. To that end, mothers who want more interest, availability, or gratitude today are vulnerable to being cast as selfish, uncaring, needy, and controlling. They can now be viewed as failing in their task of selfless devotion. Their desires for closeness or repair can be regarded as incompatible with the quest for the adult child’s self-fulfillment and identity; her identification with her children too great a barrier to their individuation.

There may well be good reasons to estrange family members for their intolerable behaviors, especially ones who have threatened personal safety. Yet, while there are plenty of problematic parents, few meet the diagnostic criteria of narcissistic personality disorder. More important, such labels can discourage a discussion of boundaries that both the parents and the adult children might find acceptable – which sometimes means asking family members to tolerate behavior or individuals not to their liking.

Diagnoses carry enormous social weight and can facilitate estrangements or negativity to mothers that are far more workable than our patients’ characterization of them might lead them or us to believe. Wrongly labeling mothers as narcissists greatly oversimplifies their lives and struggles; it devalues their years of love and dedication, however flawed; and it weakens the fabric of connection that could otherwise exist. Rather than provide a path toward compassion or understanding, “narcissistic mother” just becomes the latest form of mommy shaming.

Dr. Coleman is a clinical psychologist and author of “Rules of Estrangement: Why Adult Children Cut Ties and How to Heal the Conflict” (New York: Penguin Random House, 2021). Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

Narcissists appear to be everywhere. A few minutes on the Internet shows the dangers of narcissistic romantic partners, friends, and employers. Identifying and limiting the reach of their manipulative and self-centered endeavors is cast as both urgent and necessary. The destructive powers of the narcissistic mother are viewed as especially in need of remedy, and any bookstore can reveal the risks they pose: “Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers;” “You’re Not Crazy – It’s Your Mother: Freedom for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers;” “Healing for Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers: A Practical Guide on How to Recover from the Childhood Trauma of Toxic Relationship with Your Mother and How You Can Handle Her Abuse Now As An Adult” – to name just a few (there are more).

As a psychologist specializing in parental estrangement, I (Dr. Coleman) regularly see letters from adult children explaining their discovery-through-therapy that their mother is a narcissist. The proclamation often comes when the therapist has never met the mother. Typically, the discovery is presented as a justification for ending the relationship with the parent. While these mothers could rightly be accused of being anxious, over-involved, depressed, or hurt by the lack of gratitude or reciprocity, the vast majority are not narcissists.

Blaming mothers has a long reach. Mothers have been blamed for causing schizophrenia, autism, homosexuality, and effeminacy in men. While we used to call people selfish and “controlling,” narcissism is a more consequential label as it confers diagnostic validity from the mental health profession. Worse, it suggests an individual beyond reach, where the only answer is distance, containment, or estrangement.

The rise of the narcissistic mother comes during a time when, for the past 4 decades, the average working mother spends more time with her children than stay-at-home moms did in the supposed halcyon days of the 1960s’ middle class, before “parenting” was a common term. A variety of economists and sociologists observed that an increase in parental effort became necessary to launch children into adulthood given the retreat of governmental and corporate support for parents that began in the 1980s.

“The financial and emotional burden on families has grown in ways that were almost unimaginable just a half-century ago,” writes the University of Pennsylvania sociologist Frank Furstenberg in “On a New Schedule: Transitions to Adulthood and Family Change.” In addition, a view of children as vulnerable and in need of intense parental investment gained momentum over the course of the 20th century and has continued unabated into the present. As a result, an environment of intense maternal preoccupation, worry, guilt, and involvement with children’s grades, safety, health, and emotional states – referred to as “helicopter” and “tiger” mothering – grew into the norm across the classes.

While prior generations of parents could, by today’s standards, be viewed as being insufficiently involved, today’s parents have become “over-involved” – aided by the ability of parents to be in constant contact with their adult children through technology. While this shift to a more hands-on, more conscientious parenting has been a boon to parent–adult child relationships in the main, the downside has meant, for some, too much of a good thing. From that perspective, pathologizing a mother’s involvement or her expressions of hurt for that child’s lack of availability provides a shield against the child’s feelings of guilt or obligation.

Diagnoses can serve a social purpose: They can allow individuals to use the authority of our profession to decide who to be close to and who to let go. They can provide insulation against feelings of obligation or guilt. They create a way to label behavior as dysfunctional that in other eras or cultures would be considered normal, even valued. To that extent, diagnoses don’t occur in a cultural void. They are inextricably tied to larger ideals, be they individualistic – as exists in the United States – or collectivist, as exists in many other parts of the world.

While we have decided what parents owe our children, it is unclear what parents might ask in return. To that end, mothers who want more interest, availability, or gratitude today are vulnerable to being cast as selfish, uncaring, needy, and controlling. They can now be viewed as failing in their task of selfless devotion. Their desires for closeness or repair can be regarded as incompatible with the quest for the adult child’s self-fulfillment and identity; her identification with her children too great a barrier to their individuation.

There may well be good reasons to estrange family members for their intolerable behaviors, especially ones who have threatened personal safety. Yet, while there are plenty of problematic parents, few meet the diagnostic criteria of narcissistic personality disorder. More important, such labels can discourage a discussion of boundaries that both the parents and the adult children might find acceptable – which sometimes means asking family members to tolerate behavior or individuals not to their liking.

Diagnoses carry enormous social weight and can facilitate estrangements or negativity to mothers that are far more workable than our patients’ characterization of them might lead them or us to believe. Wrongly labeling mothers as narcissists greatly oversimplifies their lives and struggles; it devalues their years of love and dedication, however flawed; and it weakens the fabric of connection that could otherwise exist. Rather than provide a path toward compassion or understanding, “narcissistic mother” just becomes the latest form of mommy shaming.

Dr. Coleman is a clinical psychologist and author of “Rules of Estrangement: Why Adult Children Cut Ties and How to Heal the Conflict” (New York: Penguin Random House, 2021). Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

I imagine I am not alone when I tell you that my blood pressure rises every time I receive an email from CoverMyMeds, or worse, a phone call from a patient to tell me the pharmacist says I need to call their insurance company to get a medication authorized. Prior authorizations (PAs) are the bane of every physician’s existence.

Pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs) and insurers determine what treatment patients may have without regulation, accountability, liability, or transparency. They ask providers to jump through hoops, and no one oversees the placement of these hoops. The process puts patients at risk and sucks the joy from the practice of medicine.

In fall 2021, the legislative committee of the Maryland Psychiatric Society, with the help of Kathy Orellana and Tim Clement from the American Psychiatric Association, drafted a bill to modify the use of PAs. Unfortunately, the bill died in committee during the 2022 Maryland General Assembly legislative session.

Robert Herman, MD, who helped draft the initial legislation, was delighted when he learned that MedChi, the Maryland State Medical Society, had taken the proposed legislation and expanded it. “It was everything we wished for and more,” Dr. Herman said.

During this year’s legislative session, House Bill 305/Senate Bill 308, Health Insurance – Utilization Review – Revisions, was sponsored by 19 delegates and two senators. Fifty medical associations, including dentists and physical therapists, endorsed the bill. Many people, including Dr. Herman, testified before the Health and Government Operations Committee on Feb. 16.

Delegate Kenneth Kerr introduced the legislation to the committee.

“Before I begin, let me make two points. First, the bill does not do away with prior authorization or other utilization review techniques; rather, it tries to make a more balanced approach for both patients and physicians by attempting to reduce the volume that’s subject to prior authorization, by increasing transparency and communication, and by studying how the process can be improved overall. Second, we have over 50 organizations representing health care providers and patient advocacy organizations supporting this legislation. This is a systemic issue across the entire spectrum of healthcare,” said Mr. Kerr.

Mr. Kerr went on to say there were 81,143 denials for treatment in 2021. The three areas with the highest rate of denials were pharmacy, dental, and the combination of labs and radiology.

He further noted that, when consumers filed a complaint with the Maryland Insurance Administration, 72.4% of denials were reversed in 2022.

“This resulted in more benefits that could have, and should have, been given to the patient at the first request. These reversals indicate there is a problem,” Mr. Kerr said. He discussed increased administrative costs, the enormous workload burden this incurs, and the problem of burnout among medical providers.

The proposed legislation includes a ban on PA requirements for generic medications, for dose changes of previously authorized medication, and ends the requirement for yearly authorizations. It requires that a physician of the same specialty be on the panel that denies care and shortens the time periods allowed for responses and appeals.

Testimony began with those supporting the legislation. Doctors highlighted the harm inflicted on their patients by the PA process. An oncologist spoke of how it took weeks to get approval for chemotherapy for a patient with an aggressive cancer, a gastroenterologist discussed a patient who became ill and lost her job when successful treatment for inflammatory bowel disease was stopped while she waited for the yearly medication reapproval, and another physician told of a patient who died of an exacerbation of obstructive lung disease, also while awaiting a yearly reapproval for an effective medication.

A dentist spoke about how he was not authorized to place a crown on a patient’s tooth. Instead, he was instructed to try a filling first, and when the filling failed, he was told he would not be authorized to work on the same tooth twice in one year.

A physical therapist testified that PA was required every two to four sessions, and each request took up half of a session – a significant portion of time that was not used for treatment.

Three people testified in opposition to the bill. Matthew Celantano, executive director of the League of Life and Health Insurers of Maryland, called the legislation “drastic” and testified that the cost would be prohibitive.

“From our end, it’s important for you to hear that prior authorization is care coordination. It’s protection that keeps [patients] safe, but helps control skyrocketing health care costs,” said Mr. Celantano.

Deb Rivkin, vice president of government affairs for CareFirst Blue Cross Blue Shield, testified in favor of using better technology. She cited legislation under consideration in Virginia that would give clinicians more information about the specific medications that require PAs, price information, and real-time authorizations.

Finally, representing the Pharmaceutical Care Management Association, Heather Cascone testified about PAs for generic medications. Her testimony focused on prior authorization for generic medications. She claimed that “... by allowing unrestricted dispensing of generic drugs, or an override based on the subjective opinion of the prescriber, prior authorization can protect patients from drugs with a safety risk; they can catch things like drug-disease contraindications, dosage errors, pregnancy-related contraindications, and a variety of cost-savings protections.”

I found this testimony particularly difficult because the “protector” is generally not a physician and has neither seen, nor examined, the patient. The implication that patients need protection from their doctors who would be unaware aware that they are pregnant, or are ill, was offensive. It also implies that PBMs are lax by not requiring PA on all medications, ignoring the fact that patients often bypass such denials by paying out of pocket for treatment.

If this had been a high school debate, there would be no doubt the enthusiasm for the bill for HB305 was strong, the committee chair was eager, and the arguments in favor of the legislation robust. There are no public minutes for the subsequent meetings with stakeholders, and I was somewhat heartbroken to learn that once again, the bill died in committee.

Annette Hanson, MD, chair of the MPS legislative committee, remains optimistic for the future. “Since then, the APA [American Psychiatric Association] has taken our bill and used it as model legislation now being offered to other district branches. MPS has created something that is going to spread across the country. Change may be slow, but it is not inevitable. And when it happens, I want you to remember that it started here,” she said.

However, the pressure is on. A recent ProPublica article documented how Cigna rejects claims by the batch without ever reviewing them. Soon after that piece was published, it was announced that several of the large insurers, including Cigna, would be cutting back on PA demands. It remains to be seen whether this is a token move to placate legislators, and whether it will provide meaningful relief to physicians and patients. I remain skeptical.

In the meantime, physicians’ ability to help their patients remains compromised and administrative tasks consume valuable time. I have started to wonder whether there may be some other way to push this issue to action. PA is about cost containment, but perhaps there are other ways to economize.

Why do medications cost less in other countries? Why does a medication cost hundreds of dollars more at one pharmacy versus another? Why do medicines sometimes have a copay that is two or three times higher than the cash price? Why do some covered medications have copays of thousands of dollars a year? I wonder if physicians shouldn’t come together and collectively agree not to comply and refuse to complete PAs in organized rebellion.

The fear, of course, is that such an endeavor would hurt patients, but if we all agreed in concert, then for better or for worse, something would have to give. The existing system is already hurting everyone, and physicians, by agreeing to play this awful game, are complicit in letting insurers dictate the care our patients receive.

Dinah Miller, MD, is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016) and has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

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

I imagine I am not alone when I tell you that my blood pressure rises every time I receive an email from CoverMyMeds, or worse, a phone call from a patient to tell me the pharmacist says I need to call their insurance company to get a medication authorized. Prior authorizations (PAs) are the bane of every physician’s existence.

Pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs) and insurers determine what treatment patients may have without regulation, accountability, liability, or transparency. They ask providers to jump through hoops, and no one oversees the placement of these hoops. The process puts patients at risk and sucks the joy from the practice of medicine.

In fall 2021, the legislative committee of the Maryland Psychiatric Society, with the help of Kathy Orellana and Tim Clement from the American Psychiatric Association, drafted a bill to modify the use of PAs. Unfortunately, the bill died in committee during the 2022 Maryland General Assembly legislative session.

Robert Herman, MD, who helped draft the initial legislation, was delighted when he learned that MedChi, the Maryland State Medical Society, had taken the proposed legislation and expanded it. “It was everything we wished for and more,” Dr. Herman said.

During this year’s legislative session, House Bill 305/Senate Bill 308, Health Insurance – Utilization Review – Revisions, was sponsored by 19 delegates and two senators. Fifty medical associations, including dentists and physical therapists, endorsed the bill. Many people, including Dr. Herman, testified before the Health and Government Operations Committee on Feb. 16.

Delegate Kenneth Kerr introduced the legislation to the committee.

“Before I begin, let me make two points. First, the bill does not do away with prior authorization or other utilization review techniques; rather, it tries to make a more balanced approach for both patients and physicians by attempting to reduce the volume that’s subject to prior authorization, by increasing transparency and communication, and by studying how the process can be improved overall. Second, we have over 50 organizations representing health care providers and patient advocacy organizations supporting this legislation. This is a systemic issue across the entire spectrum of healthcare,” said Mr. Kerr.

Mr. Kerr went on to say there were 81,143 denials for treatment in 2021. The three areas with the highest rate of denials were pharmacy, dental, and the combination of labs and radiology.

He further noted that, when consumers filed a complaint with the Maryland Insurance Administration, 72.4% of denials were reversed in 2022.

“This resulted in more benefits that could have, and should have, been given to the patient at the first request. These reversals indicate there is a problem,” Mr. Kerr said. He discussed increased administrative costs, the enormous workload burden this incurs, and the problem of burnout among medical providers.

The proposed legislation includes a ban on PA requirements for generic medications, for dose changes of previously authorized medication, and ends the requirement for yearly authorizations. It requires that a physician of the same specialty be on the panel that denies care and shortens the time periods allowed for responses and appeals.

Testimony began with those supporting the legislation. Doctors highlighted the harm inflicted on their patients by the PA process. An oncologist spoke of how it took weeks to get approval for chemotherapy for a patient with an aggressive cancer, a gastroenterologist discussed a patient who became ill and lost her job when successful treatment for inflammatory bowel disease was stopped while she waited for the yearly medication reapproval, and another physician told of a patient who died of an exacerbation of obstructive lung disease, also while awaiting a yearly reapproval for an effective medication.

A dentist spoke about how he was not authorized to place a crown on a patient’s tooth. Instead, he was instructed to try a filling first, and when the filling failed, he was told he would not be authorized to work on the same tooth twice in one year.

A physical therapist testified that PA was required every two to four sessions, and each request took up half of a session – a significant portion of time that was not used for treatment.

Three people testified in opposition to the bill. Matthew Celantano, executive director of the League of Life and Health Insurers of Maryland, called the legislation “drastic” and testified that the cost would be prohibitive.

“From our end, it’s important for you to hear that prior authorization is care coordination. It’s protection that keeps [patients] safe, but helps control skyrocketing health care costs,” said Mr. Celantano.

Deb Rivkin, vice president of government affairs for CareFirst Blue Cross Blue Shield, testified in favor of using better technology. She cited legislation under consideration in Virginia that would give clinicians more information about the specific medications that require PAs, price information, and real-time authorizations.

Finally, representing the Pharmaceutical Care Management Association, Heather Cascone testified about PAs for generic medications. Her testimony focused on prior authorization for generic medications. She claimed that “... by allowing unrestricted dispensing of generic drugs, or an override based on the subjective opinion of the prescriber, prior authorization can protect patients from drugs with a safety risk; they can catch things like drug-disease contraindications, dosage errors, pregnancy-related contraindications, and a variety of cost-savings protections.”

I found this testimony particularly difficult because the “protector” is generally not a physician and has neither seen, nor examined, the patient. The implication that patients need protection from their doctors who would be unaware aware that they are pregnant, or are ill, was offensive. It also implies that PBMs are lax by not requiring PA on all medications, ignoring the fact that patients often bypass such denials by paying out of pocket for treatment.

If this had been a high school debate, there would be no doubt the enthusiasm for the bill for HB305 was strong, the committee chair was eager, and the arguments in favor of the legislation robust. There are no public minutes for the subsequent meetings with stakeholders, and I was somewhat heartbroken to learn that once again, the bill died in committee.

Annette Hanson, MD, chair of the MPS legislative committee, remains optimistic for the future. “Since then, the APA [American Psychiatric Association] has taken our bill and used it as model legislation now being offered to other district branches. MPS has created something that is going to spread across the country. Change may be slow, but it is not inevitable. And when it happens, I want you to remember that it started here,” she said.

However, the pressure is on. A recent ProPublica article documented how Cigna rejects claims by the batch without ever reviewing them. Soon after that piece was published, it was announced that several of the large insurers, including Cigna, would be cutting back on PA demands. It remains to be seen whether this is a token move to placate legislators, and whether it will provide meaningful relief to physicians and patients. I remain skeptical.

In the meantime, physicians’ ability to help their patients remains compromised and administrative tasks consume valuable time. I have started to wonder whether there may be some other way to push this issue to action. PA is about cost containment, but perhaps there are other ways to economize.

Why do medications cost less in other countries? Why does a medication cost hundreds of dollars more at one pharmacy versus another? Why do medicines sometimes have a copay that is two or three times higher than the cash price? Why do some covered medications have copays of thousands of dollars a year? I wonder if physicians shouldn’t come together and collectively agree not to comply and refuse to complete PAs in organized rebellion.

The fear, of course, is that such an endeavor would hurt patients, but if we all agreed in concert, then for better or for worse, something would have to give. The existing system is already hurting everyone, and physicians, by agreeing to play this awful game, are complicit in letting insurers dictate the care our patients receive.

Dinah Miller, MD, is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016) and has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

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

I imagine I am not alone when I tell you that my blood pressure rises every time I receive an email from CoverMyMeds, or worse, a phone call from a patient to tell me the pharmacist says I need to call their insurance company to get a medication authorized. Prior authorizations (PAs) are the bane of every physician’s existence.

Pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs) and insurers determine what treatment patients may have without regulation, accountability, liability, or transparency. They ask providers to jump through hoops, and no one oversees the placement of these hoops. The process puts patients at risk and sucks the joy from the practice of medicine.

In fall 2021, the legislative committee of the Maryland Psychiatric Society, with the help of Kathy Orellana and Tim Clement from the American Psychiatric Association, drafted a bill to modify the use of PAs. Unfortunately, the bill died in committee during the 2022 Maryland General Assembly legislative session.

Robert Herman, MD, who helped draft the initial legislation, was delighted when he learned that MedChi, the Maryland State Medical Society, had taken the proposed legislation and expanded it. “It was everything we wished for and more,” Dr. Herman said.

During this year’s legislative session, House Bill 305/Senate Bill 308, Health Insurance – Utilization Review – Revisions, was sponsored by 19 delegates and two senators. Fifty medical associations, including dentists and physical therapists, endorsed the bill. Many people, including Dr. Herman, testified before the Health and Government Operations Committee on Feb. 16.

Delegate Kenneth Kerr introduced the legislation to the committee.

“Before I begin, let me make two points. First, the bill does not do away with prior authorization or other utilization review techniques; rather, it tries to make a more balanced approach for both patients and physicians by attempting to reduce the volume that’s subject to prior authorization, by increasing transparency and communication, and by studying how the process can be improved overall. Second, we have over 50 organizations representing health care providers and patient advocacy organizations supporting this legislation. This is a systemic issue across the entire spectrum of healthcare,” said Mr. Kerr.

Mr. Kerr went on to say there were 81,143 denials for treatment in 2021. The three areas with the highest rate of denials were pharmacy, dental, and the combination of labs and radiology.

He further noted that, when consumers filed a complaint with the Maryland Insurance Administration, 72.4% of denials were reversed in 2022.

“This resulted in more benefits that could have, and should have, been given to the patient at the first request. These reversals indicate there is a problem,” Mr. Kerr said. He discussed increased administrative costs, the enormous workload burden this incurs, and the problem of burnout among medical providers.

The proposed legislation includes a ban on PA requirements for generic medications, for dose changes of previously authorized medication, and ends the requirement for yearly authorizations. It requires that a physician of the same specialty be on the panel that denies care and shortens the time periods allowed for responses and appeals.

Testimony began with those supporting the legislation. Doctors highlighted the harm inflicted on their patients by the PA process. An oncologist spoke of how it took weeks to get approval for chemotherapy for a patient with an aggressive cancer, a gastroenterologist discussed a patient who became ill and lost her job when successful treatment for inflammatory bowel disease was stopped while she waited for the yearly medication reapproval, and another physician told of a patient who died of an exacerbation of obstructive lung disease, also while awaiting a yearly reapproval for an effective medication.

A dentist spoke about how he was not authorized to place a crown on a patient’s tooth. Instead, he was instructed to try a filling first, and when the filling failed, he was told he would not be authorized to work on the same tooth twice in one year.

A physical therapist testified that PA was required every two to four sessions, and each request took up half of a session – a significant portion of time that was not used for treatment.

Three people testified in opposition to the bill. Matthew Celantano, executive director of the League of Life and Health Insurers of Maryland, called the legislation “drastic” and testified that the cost would be prohibitive.

“From our end, it’s important for you to hear that prior authorization is care coordination. It’s protection that keeps [patients] safe, but helps control skyrocketing health care costs,” said Mr. Celantano.

Deb Rivkin, vice president of government affairs for CareFirst Blue Cross Blue Shield, testified in favor of using better technology. She cited legislation under consideration in Virginia that would give clinicians more information about the specific medications that require PAs, price information, and real-time authorizations.

Finally, representing the Pharmaceutical Care Management Association, Heather Cascone testified about PAs for generic medications. Her testimony focused on prior authorization for generic medications. She claimed that “... by allowing unrestricted dispensing of generic drugs, or an override based on the subjective opinion of the prescriber, prior authorization can protect patients from drugs with a safety risk; they can catch things like drug-disease contraindications, dosage errors, pregnancy-related contraindications, and a variety of cost-savings protections.”

I found this testimony particularly difficult because the “protector” is generally not a physician and has neither seen, nor examined, the patient. The implication that patients need protection from their doctors who would be unaware aware that they are pregnant, or are ill, was offensive. It also implies that PBMs are lax by not requiring PA on all medications, ignoring the fact that patients often bypass such denials by paying out of pocket for treatment.

If this had been a high school debate, there would be no doubt the enthusiasm for the bill for HB305 was strong, the committee chair was eager, and the arguments in favor of the legislation robust. There are no public minutes for the subsequent meetings with stakeholders, and I was somewhat heartbroken to learn that once again, the bill died in committee.

Annette Hanson, MD, chair of the MPS legislative committee, remains optimistic for the future. “Since then, the APA [American Psychiatric Association] has taken our bill and used it as model legislation now being offered to other district branches. MPS has created something that is going to spread across the country. Change may be slow, but it is not inevitable. And when it happens, I want you to remember that it started here,” she said.

However, the pressure is on. A recent ProPublica article documented how Cigna rejects claims by the batch without ever reviewing them. Soon after that piece was published, it was announced that several of the large insurers, including Cigna, would be cutting back on PA demands. It remains to be seen whether this is a token move to placate legislators, and whether it will provide meaningful relief to physicians and patients. I remain skeptical.

In the meantime, physicians’ ability to help their patients remains compromised and administrative tasks consume valuable time. I have started to wonder whether there may be some other way to push this issue to action. PA is about cost containment, but perhaps there are other ways to economize.

Why do medications cost less in other countries? Why does a medication cost hundreds of dollars more at one pharmacy versus another? Why do medicines sometimes have a copay that is two or three times higher than the cash price? Why do some covered medications have copays of thousands of dollars a year? I wonder if physicians shouldn’t come together and collectively agree not to comply and refuse to complete PAs in organized rebellion.

The fear, of course, is that such an endeavor would hurt patients, but if we all agreed in concert, then for better or for worse, something would have to give. The existing system is already hurting everyone, and physicians, by agreeing to play this awful game, are complicit in letting insurers dictate the care our patients receive.

Dinah Miller, MD, is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016) and has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

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

For as long as I can remember, psychiatrists have talked about what the appropriate boundaries are for self-disclosure about personal issues with patients. There is obviously no exact answer as to what is acceptable to disclose; this depends on the doctor, the patient, the “brand” of psychotherapy, the patient’s issues, the nature of what is being disclosed, and maybe the alignment of the stars on that particular day. “Stutz,” the Netflix documentary that Oscar-nominated actor/director Jonah Hill has made about his psychiatrist, Phil Stutz, MD, adds a whole new chapter to the discussion.

“Okay, entertain me,” Dr. Stutz says as his patient takes a seat. The therapeutic relationship and the paradigm Dr. Stutz has created to help his patients has been healing for Jonah Hill. The very serious and intimate dialogue that follows unfolds with moments of humor, warmth, and open affection. Hill candidly tells us why he is making this documentary – to share what he has learned and to honor his therapist – but we don’t know why Dr. Stutz has agreed to the endeavor and we’re left to our own inferences.

Dr. Stutz is the coauthor, with Barry Michels, of a best-selling self-help book, “The Tools: 5 Tools to Help You Find Courage, Creativity, and Willpower – and Inspire You to Live Life in Forward Motion.” He talks about his restlessness with the psychodynamic method during his training as a resident in New York – he wanted to offer his patients more immediate relief and a supervisor told him, “Don’t you dare!”

In the film, he talks about giving patients hope and direction. And Hill makes the comment, “In traditional therapy, you’re paying this person and you save all your problems for them, and they just listen, and your friends – who are idiots – give you advice, unsolicited, and you want your friends just to listen, and you want your therapist to give you advice!” Dr. Stutz gives advice and he is like no other therapist Jonah has ever had.

The premise of the film is that we are watching a single therapy session and Dr. Stutz will discuss the use of his tools and techniques that Hill has found helpful. Jonah is the interviewer, and when the doctor suggests it would be helpful if Jonah talked about his life, the patient/director rebuffs him; this documentary is about the psychiatrist.

Early in the film an alarm goes off, Dr. Stutz does not hear it, and Jonah has to remind him that it’s time for him to take his pills. The psychiatrist has Parkinson’s disease and how it has affected him becomes one focal point for the film. We later learn that he lost a younger brother as a child (something Hill did not know before they started filming) and grew up in the shadow of that loss. His extroverted father made it clear that medicine was the only acceptable career path for his son, and his introverted and depressed mother spent her days proclaiming that all men were as awful as her own abusive father.

About a third of the way through the film, the focus shifts. Jonah suddenly confesses that he is feeling stuck with regard to the movie, that he is troubled by the fact that he has not been able to share his distress with Dr. Stutz during their real-life, unfilmed therapy sessions, and the viewers learn that the single-session concept was disingenuous – they have been filming this documentary for two years, against a green screen and not in an office, always wearing the same clothes, and Jonah pulls off a wig that he wears to disguise the fact that he changed his hairstyle months earlier.

It’s a bit unnerving as they throw the wig around, and Jonah agrees to be more open about the issues he has struggled with. He acknowledges that this has been difficult, and he says, “I just keep asking myself, like, was this a f***ing horrible idea for a patient to make a movie about his therapist?” From my perspective as a psychiatrist-viewer, it’s a good question to ask!

Dr. Stutz reassures Jonah that it is okay to be vulnerable. “Failure, weakness, vulnerability – it’s like a connector, it connects you to the rest of the world.” A super-sized cardboard cutout of an obese 14-year-old Jonah now joins the room, and we learn that he continues to struggle with his self-image. Things get more real.

Peppered throughout the film, there are lessons from Dr. Stutz about his “tools,” constructs he uses to help people restructure their worlds and take action to move forward. One such construct he calls “the maze,” which occurs when one person in an interpersonal relationship is waiting for fairness and becomes preoccupied with feeling injured.

Jonah inquires about Dr. Stutz’s romantic life and the therapist replies with a transparency that overrides our usual professional boundaries. We all learn that Dr. Stutz is not in a relationship, he’s never been married, but there is a woman he has had some involvement with on and off for 40 years. Jonah’s line of questioning rivals that of any therapist. “How do you think it affects you, having your mom hate men and you being a man?” Dr. Stutz admits that he can never feel safe with women. “Did you ever override that wall you built with your mom and get close to a woman?” When Jonah professes, “I don’t feel anything but love for you and I just want you to be happy,” my own feeling was that the tables had turned too far, that the therapist’s failed romantic life risked being a burden to the patient.

Still, there is something about the relationship between the two men that is touching and beautiful. Dr. Stutz as a therapist is charismatic, caring, self-assured, and optimistic, and he radiates hope and certainty. He mixes an intense intimacy with humor in a way that is both authentic and entertaining. The interspersed jokes break the intensity, but they don’t diminish his wisdom and the healing he imparts.

Dr. Stutz is a psychiatrist, and his strength is clearly as a psychotherapist, yet there is not a single mention of psychotropic medications – there is a banter about recreational drugs and medications for Parkinson’s disease. If Hill is taking medication for depression or anxiety, and if prescribing is part of Dr. Stutz’s arsenal, the viewer is not made aware of this.

Dr. Stutz eschews the slow, detached, and “neutral” pace of psychodynamic therapy and the whole concept of the therapist as a blank wall for the transference to play out on, but here the transference screams: Jonah loves him, he respect and honors him, he wants him to be happy, and he is afraid of losing him.

“Stutz” is a movie about a larger-than-life psychiatrist, one whose warmth and inspiration are healing. I imagine his tools are helpful, but his personality is what carries the load. If a viewer has not had experience with psychiatry, and this film inspires him to begin therapy, there may be a good deal of disappointment. In this case, the patient is a successful actor, and one might wonder if that, together with the entire years-long project of filming, has altered the relationship well beyond the usual therapeutic hour.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

For as long as I can remember, psychiatrists have talked about what the appropriate boundaries are for self-disclosure about personal issues with patients. There is obviously no exact answer as to what is acceptable to disclose; this depends on the doctor, the patient, the “brand” of psychotherapy, the patient’s issues, the nature of what is being disclosed, and maybe the alignment of the stars on that particular day. “Stutz,” the Netflix documentary that Oscar-nominated actor/director Jonah Hill has made about his psychiatrist, Phil Stutz, MD, adds a whole new chapter to the discussion.

“Okay, entertain me,” Dr. Stutz says as his patient takes a seat. The therapeutic relationship and the paradigm Dr. Stutz has created to help his patients has been healing for Jonah Hill. The very serious and intimate dialogue that follows unfolds with moments of humor, warmth, and open affection. Hill candidly tells us why he is making this documentary – to share what he has learned and to honor his therapist – but we don’t know why Dr. Stutz has agreed to the endeavor and we’re left to our own inferences.

Dr. Stutz is the coauthor, with Barry Michels, of a best-selling self-help book, “The Tools: 5 Tools to Help You Find Courage, Creativity, and Willpower – and Inspire You to Live Life in Forward Motion.” He talks about his restlessness with the psychodynamic method during his training as a resident in New York – he wanted to offer his patients more immediate relief and a supervisor told him, “Don’t you dare!”

In the film, he talks about giving patients hope and direction. And Hill makes the comment, “In traditional therapy, you’re paying this person and you save all your problems for them, and they just listen, and your friends – who are idiots – give you advice, unsolicited, and you want your friends just to listen, and you want your therapist to give you advice!” Dr. Stutz gives advice and he is like no other therapist Jonah has ever had.

The premise of the film is that we are watching a single therapy session and Dr. Stutz will discuss the use of his tools and techniques that Hill has found helpful. Jonah is the interviewer, and when the doctor suggests it would be helpful if Jonah talked about his life, the patient/director rebuffs him; this documentary is about the psychiatrist.

Early in the film an alarm goes off, Dr. Stutz does not hear it, and Jonah has to remind him that it’s time for him to take his pills. The psychiatrist has Parkinson’s disease and how it has affected him becomes one focal point for the film. We later learn that he lost a younger brother as a child (something Hill did not know before they started filming) and grew up in the shadow of that loss. His extroverted father made it clear that medicine was the only acceptable career path for his son, and his introverted and depressed mother spent her days proclaiming that all men were as awful as her own abusive father.

About a third of the way through the film, the focus shifts. Jonah suddenly confesses that he is feeling stuck with regard to the movie, that he is troubled by the fact that he has not been able to share his distress with Dr. Stutz during their real-life, unfilmed therapy sessions, and the viewers learn that the single-session concept was disingenuous – they have been filming this documentary for two years, against a green screen and not in an office, always wearing the same clothes, and Jonah pulls off a wig that he wears to disguise the fact that he changed his hairstyle months earlier.

It’s a bit unnerving as they throw the wig around, and Jonah agrees to be more open about the issues he has struggled with. He acknowledges that this has been difficult, and he says, “I just keep asking myself, like, was this a f***ing horrible idea for a patient to make a movie about his therapist?” From my perspective as a psychiatrist-viewer, it’s a good question to ask!

Dr. Stutz reassures Jonah that it is okay to be vulnerable. “Failure, weakness, vulnerability – it’s like a connector, it connects you to the rest of the world.” A super-sized cardboard cutout of an obese 14-year-old Jonah now joins the room, and we learn that he continues to struggle with his self-image. Things get more real.

Peppered throughout the film, there are lessons from Dr. Stutz about his “tools,” constructs he uses to help people restructure their worlds and take action to move forward. One such construct he calls “the maze,” which occurs when one person in an interpersonal relationship is waiting for fairness and becomes preoccupied with feeling injured.

Jonah inquires about Dr. Stutz’s romantic life and the therapist replies with a transparency that overrides our usual professional boundaries. We all learn that Dr. Stutz is not in a relationship, he’s never been married, but there is a woman he has had some involvement with on and off for 40 years. Jonah’s line of questioning rivals that of any therapist. “How do you think it affects you, having your mom hate men and you being a man?” Dr. Stutz admits that he can never feel safe with women. “Did you ever override that wall you built with your mom and get close to a woman?” When Jonah professes, “I don’t feel anything but love for you and I just want you to be happy,” my own feeling was that the tables had turned too far, that the therapist’s failed romantic life risked being a burden to the patient.

Still, there is something about the relationship between the two men that is touching and beautiful. Dr. Stutz as a therapist is charismatic, caring, self-assured, and optimistic, and he radiates hope and certainty. He mixes an intense intimacy with humor in a way that is both authentic and entertaining. The interspersed jokes break the intensity, but they don’t diminish his wisdom and the healing he imparts.

Dr. Stutz is a psychiatrist, and his strength is clearly as a psychotherapist, yet there is not a single mention of psychotropic medications – there is a banter about recreational drugs and medications for Parkinson’s disease. If Hill is taking medication for depression or anxiety, and if prescribing is part of Dr. Stutz’s arsenal, the viewer is not made aware of this.

Dr. Stutz eschews the slow, detached, and “neutral” pace of psychodynamic therapy and the whole concept of the therapist as a blank wall for the transference to play out on, but here the transference screams: Jonah loves him, he respect and honors him, he wants him to be happy, and he is afraid of losing him.

“Stutz” is a movie about a larger-than-life psychiatrist, one whose warmth and inspiration are healing. I imagine his tools are helpful, but his personality is what carries the load. If a viewer has not had experience with psychiatry, and this film inspires him to begin therapy, there may be a good deal of disappointment. In this case, the patient is a successful actor, and one might wonder if that, together with the entire years-long project of filming, has altered the relationship well beyond the usual therapeutic hour.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

For as long as I can remember, psychiatrists have talked about what the appropriate boundaries are for self-disclosure about personal issues with patients. There is obviously no exact answer as to what is acceptable to disclose; this depends on the doctor, the patient, the “brand” of psychotherapy, the patient’s issues, the nature of what is being disclosed, and maybe the alignment of the stars on that particular day. “Stutz,” the Netflix documentary that Oscar-nominated actor/director Jonah Hill has made about his psychiatrist, Phil Stutz, MD, adds a whole new chapter to the discussion.

“Okay, entertain me,” Dr. Stutz says as his patient takes a seat. The therapeutic relationship and the paradigm Dr. Stutz has created to help his patients has been healing for Jonah Hill. The very serious and intimate dialogue that follows unfolds with moments of humor, warmth, and open affection. Hill candidly tells us why he is making this documentary – to share what he has learned and to honor his therapist – but we don’t know why Dr. Stutz has agreed to the endeavor and we’re left to our own inferences.

Dr. Stutz is the coauthor, with Barry Michels, of a best-selling self-help book, “The Tools: 5 Tools to Help You Find Courage, Creativity, and Willpower – and Inspire You to Live Life in Forward Motion.” He talks about his restlessness with the psychodynamic method during his training as a resident in New York – he wanted to offer his patients more immediate relief and a supervisor told him, “Don’t you dare!”

In the film, he talks about giving patients hope and direction. And Hill makes the comment, “In traditional therapy, you’re paying this person and you save all your problems for them, and they just listen, and your friends – who are idiots – give you advice, unsolicited, and you want your friends just to listen, and you want your therapist to give you advice!” Dr. Stutz gives advice and he is like no other therapist Jonah has ever had.

The premise of the film is that we are watching a single therapy session and Dr. Stutz will discuss the use of his tools and techniques that Hill has found helpful. Jonah is the interviewer, and when the doctor suggests it would be helpful if Jonah talked about his life, the patient/director rebuffs him; this documentary is about the psychiatrist.

Early in the film an alarm goes off, Dr. Stutz does not hear it, and Jonah has to remind him that it’s time for him to take his pills. The psychiatrist has Parkinson’s disease and how it has affected him becomes one focal point for the film. We later learn that he lost a younger brother as a child (something Hill did not know before they started filming) and grew up in the shadow of that loss. His extroverted father made it clear that medicine was the only acceptable career path for his son, and his introverted and depressed mother spent her days proclaiming that all men were as awful as her own abusive father.

About a third of the way through the film, the focus shifts. Jonah suddenly confesses that he is feeling stuck with regard to the movie, that he is troubled by the fact that he has not been able to share his distress with Dr. Stutz during their real-life, unfilmed therapy sessions, and the viewers learn that the single-session concept was disingenuous – they have been filming this documentary for two years, against a green screen and not in an office, always wearing the same clothes, and Jonah pulls off a wig that he wears to disguise the fact that he changed his hairstyle months earlier.

It’s a bit unnerving as they throw the wig around, and Jonah agrees to be more open about the issues he has struggled with. He acknowledges that this has been difficult, and he says, “I just keep asking myself, like, was this a f***ing horrible idea for a patient to make a movie about his therapist?” From my perspective as a psychiatrist-viewer, it’s a good question to ask!

Dr. Stutz reassures Jonah that it is okay to be vulnerable. “Failure, weakness, vulnerability – it’s like a connector, it connects you to the rest of the world.” A super-sized cardboard cutout of an obese 14-year-old Jonah now joins the room, and we learn that he continues to struggle with his self-image. Things get more real.

Peppered throughout the film, there are lessons from Dr. Stutz about his “tools,” constructs he uses to help people restructure their worlds and take action to move forward. One such construct he calls “the maze,” which occurs when one person in an interpersonal relationship is waiting for fairness and becomes preoccupied with feeling injured.

Jonah inquires about Dr. Stutz’s romantic life and the therapist replies with a transparency that overrides our usual professional boundaries. We all learn that Dr. Stutz is not in a relationship, he’s never been married, but there is a woman he has had some involvement with on and off for 40 years. Jonah’s line of questioning rivals that of any therapist. “How do you think it affects you, having your mom hate men and you being a man?” Dr. Stutz admits that he can never feel safe with women. “Did you ever override that wall you built with your mom and get close to a woman?” When Jonah professes, “I don’t feel anything but love for you and I just want you to be happy,” my own feeling was that the tables had turned too far, that the therapist’s failed romantic life risked being a burden to the patient.

Still, there is something about the relationship between the two men that is touching and beautiful. Dr. Stutz as a therapist is charismatic, caring, self-assured, and optimistic, and he radiates hope and certainty. He mixes an intense intimacy with humor in a way that is both authentic and entertaining. The interspersed jokes break the intensity, but they don’t diminish his wisdom and the healing he imparts.

Dr. Stutz is a psychiatrist, and his strength is clearly as a psychotherapist, yet there is not a single mention of psychotropic medications – there is a banter about recreational drugs and medications for Parkinson’s disease. If Hill is taking medication for depression or anxiety, and if prescribing is part of Dr. Stutz’s arsenal, the viewer is not made aware of this.

Dr. Stutz eschews the slow, detached, and “neutral” pace of psychodynamic therapy and the whole concept of the therapist as a blank wall for the transference to play out on, but here the transference screams: Jonah loves him, he respect and honors him, he wants him to be happy, and he is afraid of losing him.

“Stutz” is a movie about a larger-than-life psychiatrist, one whose warmth and inspiration are healing. I imagine his tools are helpful, but his personality is what carries the load. If a viewer has not had experience with psychiatry, and this film inspires him to begin therapy, there may be a good deal of disappointment. In this case, the patient is a successful actor, and one might wonder if that, together with the entire years-long project of filming, has altered the relationship well beyond the usual therapeutic hour.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

As a psychiatrist and a writer, I know I should be worried about the possibility that I could be replaced by a bot. Like most physicians, I face the daily challenge of how to manage the paperwork of clinical practice, so I wondered if ChatGPT, the latest craze in artificial intelligence (AI), could write my progress notes.

ChatGPT is an advanced language generation model developed by OpenAI. It uses deep-learning techniques to generate humanlike responses to text inputs. I wondered whether ChatGPT could help me with my paperwork and progress notes by automatically generating text. Could it be trained to fill out progress notes based on information I provided? Free up my time? Reduce the risk for transcription errors?

Putting aside concerns about my job security for the moment, I signed up for an account. But first, I needed to play. I asked ChatGPT to write a love poem that would incorporate all the members of my family. This was a hit.

Next, I requested poems about specific pets. Because I spent the first year of the pandemic writing daily limericks and sending them to a distribution list, I knew people wouldn’t be surprised when I sent sonnets for their cats; but this time I let ChatGPT do the writing.

Then, for my colleagues in the Maryland Psychiatric Society, I requested a poem about the distressing nationwide shortage of stimulants. ChatGPT created clever stanzas. I was amused, but I’m not sure if anyone else was. This medication shortage is a touchy subject for psychiatrists and their patients who depend on these medications, so perhaps it wasn’t the right topic for bot-humor, and I should stick to cats.

At last, I was ready to put ChatGPT to the test and asked it to write a progress note that would contain the elements necessary to bill for a routine office visit with an add-on psychotherapy code. I created a few facts about a fictional patient and pressed enter.

The result was disappointing, ChatGPT responded with a standard note that did not take into account the items necessary to meet current coding standards. Maybe it was my fault; ChatGPT might need more information, but in the time it would take to provide more data, I could write my own progress note! I tried again and this time, ChatGPT defined the billing codes for me, but this wasn’t what I needed.

I decided to explore whether ChatGPT can, in fact, replace me. Feeling a bit queasy, I asked my new AI friend and was told that it could not replace a psychiatrist.

“Are you sure?” I asked again. “Yes, I am sure. ChatGPT is an AI language model trained to answer questions and provide information, but it is not capable of providing personalized medical advice or treatment.”

At least one of us felt certain. Continuing the conversation, I told the bot that I was anxious about my job security and requested advice. I wish I could tell you that ChatGPT was a dud, but instead, it had reasonable suggestions that were upbeat and hopeful.

“It’s understandable to feel anxious and worried about job security in today’s rapidly changing job market,” ChatGPT responded. “Here are some steps you can take to manage your feelings:”

Seek support: Talk to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional.

Educate yourself: Stay informed about industry trends and advancements in AI and technology to understand the potential impact on your job.

Upskill: Consider taking online courses or pursuing additional education to stay relevant in the workforce.

Find purpose: Focus on your strengths, interests, and passions outside of work to cultivate a sense of fulfillment.

Take care of yourself: Engage in self-care activities such as exercise, meditation, and hobbies to manage stress and maintain good mental health.

“Remember,” ChatGPT concluded, “it’s important to address your feelings and take proactive steps to manage them. You can come out of this situation with a clearer mind, new skills, and opportunities for growth.”

ChatGPT sounds a lot like me! However, when I asked ChatGPT about prescribing, I finally received reassurance that I am not completely obsolete: “I’m sorry,” the bot said, “but I am an AI language model and do not have the ability to write prescriptions or provide medical advice.” Still, I couldn’t help but think that the bot’s day would eventually come. 

Because ChatGPT is my coauthor for this essay, I asked it to write the ending. We suddenly have a whole new world, and I’m along for the ride. Yet after all that reassurance, it seems that ChatGPT does indeed want my job. It summarized our conversation and left me unsure of whether to laugh or to cry:  

“There you have it, folks – ChatGPT, the digital psychiatrist that’s here to listen to all your problems, 24/7, for free! No more waiting for appointments, no more copays, just type away and let the artificial intelligence take over.

“But hey, who needs a human shrink when you’ve got ChatGPT, right? Just don’t be surprised if your ‘therapy sessions’ end up feeling more like a conversation with a sarcastic AI friend than serious mental health treatment.”

In conclusion, ChatGPT and I hope this article has provided some insight into the strange and hilarious world of AI-powered psychiatry. Who knows, maybe one day ChatGPT will become a licensed therapist and start prescribing real medication. But until then, just sit back, relax, and let the machine do the talking.
 

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

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

As a psychiatrist and a writer, I know I should be worried about the possibility that I could be replaced by a bot. Like most physicians, I face the daily challenge of how to manage the paperwork of clinical practice, so I wondered if ChatGPT, the latest craze in artificial intelligence (AI), could write my progress notes.

ChatGPT is an advanced language generation model developed by OpenAI. It uses deep-learning techniques to generate humanlike responses to text inputs. I wondered whether ChatGPT could help me with my paperwork and progress notes by automatically generating text. Could it be trained to fill out progress notes based on information I provided? Free up my time? Reduce the risk for transcription errors?

Putting aside concerns about my job security for the moment, I signed up for an account. But first, I needed to play. I asked ChatGPT to write a love poem that would incorporate all the members of my family. This was a hit.

Next, I requested poems about specific pets. Because I spent the first year of the pandemic writing daily limericks and sending them to a distribution list, I knew people wouldn’t be surprised when I sent sonnets for their cats; but this time I let ChatGPT do the writing.

Then, for my colleagues in the Maryland Psychiatric Society, I requested a poem about the distressing nationwide shortage of stimulants. ChatGPT created clever stanzas. I was amused, but I’m not sure if anyone else was. This medication shortage is a touchy subject for psychiatrists and their patients who depend on these medications, so perhaps it wasn’t the right topic for bot-humor, and I should stick to cats.

At last, I was ready to put ChatGPT to the test and asked it to write a progress note that would contain the elements necessary to bill for a routine office visit with an add-on psychotherapy code. I created a few facts about a fictional patient and pressed enter.

The result was disappointing, ChatGPT responded with a standard note that did not take into account the items necessary to meet current coding standards. Maybe it was my fault; ChatGPT might need more information, but in the time it would take to provide more data, I could write my own progress note! I tried again and this time, ChatGPT defined the billing codes for me, but this wasn’t what I needed.

I decided to explore whether ChatGPT can, in fact, replace me. Feeling a bit queasy, I asked my new AI friend and was told that it could not replace a psychiatrist.

“Are you sure?” I asked again. “Yes, I am sure. ChatGPT is an AI language model trained to answer questions and provide information, but it is not capable of providing personalized medical advice or treatment.”

At least one of us felt certain. Continuing the conversation, I told the bot that I was anxious about my job security and requested advice. I wish I could tell you that ChatGPT was a dud, but instead, it had reasonable suggestions that were upbeat and hopeful.

“It’s understandable to feel anxious and worried about job security in today’s rapidly changing job market,” ChatGPT responded. “Here are some steps you can take to manage your feelings:”

Seek support: Talk to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional.

Educate yourself: Stay informed about industry trends and advancements in AI and technology to understand the potential impact on your job.

Upskill: Consider taking online courses or pursuing additional education to stay relevant in the workforce.

Find purpose: Focus on your strengths, interests, and passions outside of work to cultivate a sense of fulfillment.

Take care of yourself: Engage in self-care activities such as exercise, meditation, and hobbies to manage stress and maintain good mental health.

“Remember,” ChatGPT concluded, “it’s important to address your feelings and take proactive steps to manage them. You can come out of this situation with a clearer mind, new skills, and opportunities for growth.”

ChatGPT sounds a lot like me! However, when I asked ChatGPT about prescribing, I finally received reassurance that I am not completely obsolete: “I’m sorry,” the bot said, “but I am an AI language model and do not have the ability to write prescriptions or provide medical advice.” Still, I couldn’t help but think that the bot’s day would eventually come. 

Because ChatGPT is my coauthor for this essay, I asked it to write the ending. We suddenly have a whole new world, and I’m along for the ride. Yet after all that reassurance, it seems that ChatGPT does indeed want my job. It summarized our conversation and left me unsure of whether to laugh or to cry:  

“There you have it, folks – ChatGPT, the digital psychiatrist that’s here to listen to all your problems, 24/7, for free! No more waiting for appointments, no more copays, just type away and let the artificial intelligence take over.

“But hey, who needs a human shrink when you’ve got ChatGPT, right? Just don’t be surprised if your ‘therapy sessions’ end up feeling more like a conversation with a sarcastic AI friend than serious mental health treatment.”

In conclusion, ChatGPT and I hope this article has provided some insight into the strange and hilarious world of AI-powered psychiatry. Who knows, maybe one day ChatGPT will become a licensed therapist and start prescribing real medication. But until then, just sit back, relax, and let the machine do the talking.
 

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

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

As a psychiatrist and a writer, I know I should be worried about the possibility that I could be replaced by a bot. Like most physicians, I face the daily challenge of how to manage the paperwork of clinical practice, so I wondered if ChatGPT, the latest craze in artificial intelligence (AI), could write my progress notes.

ChatGPT is an advanced language generation model developed by OpenAI. It uses deep-learning techniques to generate humanlike responses to text inputs. I wondered whether ChatGPT could help me with my paperwork and progress notes by automatically generating text. Could it be trained to fill out progress notes based on information I provided? Free up my time? Reduce the risk for transcription errors?

Putting aside concerns about my job security for the moment, I signed up for an account. But first, I needed to play. I asked ChatGPT to write a love poem that would incorporate all the members of my family. This was a hit.

Next, I requested poems about specific pets. Because I spent the first year of the pandemic writing daily limericks and sending them to a distribution list, I knew people wouldn’t be surprised when I sent sonnets for their cats; but this time I let ChatGPT do the writing.

Then, for my colleagues in the Maryland Psychiatric Society, I requested a poem about the distressing nationwide shortage of stimulants. ChatGPT created clever stanzas. I was amused, but I’m not sure if anyone else was. This medication shortage is a touchy subject for psychiatrists and their patients who depend on these medications, so perhaps it wasn’t the right topic for bot-humor, and I should stick to cats.

At last, I was ready to put ChatGPT to the test and asked it to write a progress note that would contain the elements necessary to bill for a routine office visit with an add-on psychotherapy code. I created a few facts about a fictional patient and pressed enter.

The result was disappointing, ChatGPT responded with a standard note that did not take into account the items necessary to meet current coding standards. Maybe it was my fault; ChatGPT might need more information, but in the time it would take to provide more data, I could write my own progress note! I tried again and this time, ChatGPT defined the billing codes for me, but this wasn’t what I needed.

I decided to explore whether ChatGPT can, in fact, replace me. Feeling a bit queasy, I asked my new AI friend and was told that it could not replace a psychiatrist.

“Are you sure?” I asked again. “Yes, I am sure. ChatGPT is an AI language model trained to answer questions and provide information, but it is not capable of providing personalized medical advice or treatment.”

At least one of us felt certain. Continuing the conversation, I told the bot that I was anxious about my job security and requested advice. I wish I could tell you that ChatGPT was a dud, but instead, it had reasonable suggestions that were upbeat and hopeful.

“It’s understandable to feel anxious and worried about job security in today’s rapidly changing job market,” ChatGPT responded. “Here are some steps you can take to manage your feelings:”

Seek support: Talk to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional.

Educate yourself: Stay informed about industry trends and advancements in AI and technology to understand the potential impact on your job.

Upskill: Consider taking online courses or pursuing additional education to stay relevant in the workforce.

Find purpose: Focus on your strengths, interests, and passions outside of work to cultivate a sense of fulfillment.

Take care of yourself: Engage in self-care activities such as exercise, meditation, and hobbies to manage stress and maintain good mental health.

“Remember,” ChatGPT concluded, “it’s important to address your feelings and take proactive steps to manage them. You can come out of this situation with a clearer mind, new skills, and opportunities for growth.”

ChatGPT sounds a lot like me! However, when I asked ChatGPT about prescribing, I finally received reassurance that I am not completely obsolete: “I’m sorry,” the bot said, “but I am an AI language model and do not have the ability to write prescriptions or provide medical advice.” Still, I couldn’t help but think that the bot’s day would eventually come. 

Because ChatGPT is my coauthor for this essay, I asked it to write the ending. We suddenly have a whole new world, and I’m along for the ride. Yet after all that reassurance, it seems that ChatGPT does indeed want my job. It summarized our conversation and left me unsure of whether to laugh or to cry:  

“There you have it, folks – ChatGPT, the digital psychiatrist that’s here to listen to all your problems, 24/7, for free! No more waiting for appointments, no more copays, just type away and let the artificial intelligence take over.

“But hey, who needs a human shrink when you’ve got ChatGPT, right? Just don’t be surprised if your ‘therapy sessions’ end up feeling more like a conversation with a sarcastic AI friend than serious mental health treatment.”

In conclusion, ChatGPT and I hope this article has provided some insight into the strange and hilarious world of AI-powered psychiatry. Who knows, maybe one day ChatGPT will become a licensed therapist and start prescribing real medication. But until then, just sit back, relax, and let the machine do the talking.
 

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

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

I met Eleanor when I was writing a book on involuntary psychiatric treatment. She was very ill when she presented to an emergency department in Northern California. She was looking for help and would have signed herself in, but after waiting 8 hours with no food or medical attention, she walked out and went to another hospital.

At this point, she was agitated and distressed and began screaming uncontrollably. The physician in the second ED did not offer her the option of signing in, and she was placed on a 72-hour hold and subsequently held in the hospital for 3 weeks after a judge committed her.

Like so many issues, involuntary psychiatric care is highly polarized. Some groups favor legislation to make involuntary treatment easier, while patient advocacy and civil rights groups vehemently oppose such legislation.

We don’t hear from these combatants as much as we hear from those who trumpet their views on abortion or gun control, yet this battlefield exists. It is not surprising that when New York City Mayor Eric Adams announced a plan to hospitalize homeless people with mental illnesses – involuntarily if necessary, and at the discretion of the police – people were outraged.

New York City is not the only place using this strategy to address the problem of mental illness and homelessness; California has enacted similar legislation, and every major city has homeless citizens.

Eleanor was not homeless, and fortunately, she recovered and returned to her family. However, she remained distressed and traumatized by her hospitalization for years. “It sticks with you,” she told me. “I would rather die than go in again.”

I wish I could tell you that Eleanor is unique in saying that she would rather die than go to a hospital unit for treatment, but it is not an uncommon sentiment for patients. Some people who are charged with crimes and end up in the judicial system will opt to go to jail rather than to a psychiatric hospital. It is also not easy to access outpatient psychiatric treatment.
 

Barriers to care

Many psychiatrists don’t participate with insurance networks, and publicly funded clinics may have long waiting lists, so illnesses escalate until there is a crisis and hospitalization is necessary. For many, stigma and fear of potential professional repercussions are significant barriers to care.

What are the issues that legislation attempts to address? The first is the standard for hospitalizing individuals against their will. In some states, the patient must be dangerous, while in others there is a lower standard of “gravely disabled,” and finally there are those that promote a standard of a “need for treatment.”

The second is related to medicating people against their will, a process that can be rightly perceived as an assault if the patient refuses to take oral medications and must be held down for injections. Next, the use of outpatient civil commitment – legally requiring people to get treatment if they are not in the hospital – has been increasingly invoked as a way to prevent mass murders and random violence against strangers.

All but four states have some legislation for outpatient commitment, euphemistically called Assisted Outpatient Treatment (AOT), yet these laws are difficult to enforce and expensive to enact. They are also not fully effective.

In New York City, Kendra’s Law has not eliminated subway violence by people with psychiatric disturbances, and the shooter who killed 32 people and wounded 17 others at Virginia Tech in 2007 had previously been ordered by a judge to go to outpatient treatment, but he simply never showed up for his appointment.

Finally, the battle includes the right of patients to refuse to have their psychiatric information released to their caretakers under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 – a measure that many families believe would help them to get loved ones to take medications and go to appointments.

The concern about how to negotiate the needs of society and the civil rights of people with psychiatric disorders has been with us for centuries. There is a strong antipsychiatry movement that asserts that psychotropic medications are ineffective or harmful and refers to patients as “psychiatric survivors.” We value the right to medical autonomy, and when there is controversy over the validity of a treatment, there is even more controversy over forcing it upon people.

Psychiatric medications are very effective and benefit many people, but they don’t help everyone, and some people experience side effects. Also, we can’t deny that involuntary care can go wrong; the conservatorship of Britney Spears for 13 years is a very public example.
 

Multiple stakeholders

Many have a stake in how this plays out. There are the patients, who may be suffering and unable to recognize that they are ill, who may have valid reasons for not wanting the treatments, and who ideally should have the right to refuse care.

There are the families who watch their loved ones suffer, deteriorate, and miss the opportunities that life has to offer; who do not want their children to be homeless or incarcerated; and who may be at risk from violent behavior.

There are the mental health professionals who want to do what’s in the best interest of their patients while following legal and ethical mandates, who worry about being sued for tragic outcomes, and who can’t meet the current demand for services.

There is the taxpayer who foots the bill for disability payments, lost productivity, and institutionalization. There is our society that worries that people with psychiatric disorders will commit random acts of violence.

Finally, there are the insurers, who want to pay for as little care as possible and throw up constant hurdles in the treatment process. We must acknowledge that resources used for involuntary treatment are diverted away from those who want care.

Eleanor had many advantages that unhoused people don’t have: a supportive family, health insurance, and the financial means to pay a psychiatrist who respected her wishes to wean off her medications. She returned to a comfortable home and to personal and occupational success.

It is tragic that we have people living on the streets because of a psychiatric disorder, addiction, poverty, or some combination of these. No one should be unhoused. If the rationale of hospitalization is to decrease violence, I am not hopeful. The Epidemiologic Catchment Area study shows that people with psychiatric disorders are responsible for only 4% of all violence.

The logistics of determining which people living on the streets have psychiatric disorders, transporting them safely to medical facilities, and then finding the resources to provide for compassionate and thoughtful care in meaningful and sustained ways are very challenging.

If we don’t want people living on the streets, we need to create supports, including infrastructure to facilitate housing, access to mental health care, and addiction treatment before we resort to involuntary hospitalization.
 

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I met Eleanor when I was writing a book on involuntary psychiatric treatment. She was very ill when she presented to an emergency department in Northern California. She was looking for help and would have signed herself in, but after waiting 8 hours with no food or medical attention, she walked out and went to another hospital.

At this point, she was agitated and distressed and began screaming uncontrollably. The physician in the second ED did not offer her the option of signing in, and she was placed on a 72-hour hold and subsequently held in the hospital for 3 weeks after a judge committed her.

Like so many issues, involuntary psychiatric care is highly polarized. Some groups favor legislation to make involuntary treatment easier, while patient advocacy and civil rights groups vehemently oppose such legislation.

We don’t hear from these combatants as much as we hear from those who trumpet their views on abortion or gun control, yet this battlefield exists. It is not surprising that when New York City Mayor Eric Adams announced a plan to hospitalize homeless people with mental illnesses – involuntarily if necessary, and at the discretion of the police – people were outraged.

New York City is not the only place using this strategy to address the problem of mental illness and homelessness; California has enacted similar legislation, and every major city has homeless citizens.

Eleanor was not homeless, and fortunately, she recovered and returned to her family. However, she remained distressed and traumatized by her hospitalization for years. “It sticks with you,” she told me. “I would rather die than go in again.”

I wish I could tell you that Eleanor is unique in saying that she would rather die than go to a hospital unit for treatment, but it is not an uncommon sentiment for patients. Some people who are charged with crimes and end up in the judicial system will opt to go to jail rather than to a psychiatric hospital. It is also not easy to access outpatient psychiatric treatment.
 

Barriers to care

Many psychiatrists don’t participate with insurance networks, and publicly funded clinics may have long waiting lists, so illnesses escalate until there is a crisis and hospitalization is necessary. For many, stigma and fear of potential professional repercussions are significant barriers to care.

What are the issues that legislation attempts to address? The first is the standard for hospitalizing individuals against their will. In some states, the patient must be dangerous, while in others there is a lower standard of “gravely disabled,” and finally there are those that promote a standard of a “need for treatment.”

The second is related to medicating people against their will, a process that can be rightly perceived as an assault if the patient refuses to take oral medications and must be held down for injections. Next, the use of outpatient civil commitment – legally requiring people to get treatment if they are not in the hospital – has been increasingly invoked as a way to prevent mass murders and random violence against strangers.

All but four states have some legislation for outpatient commitment, euphemistically called Assisted Outpatient Treatment (AOT), yet these laws are difficult to enforce and expensive to enact. They are also not fully effective.

In New York City, Kendra’s Law has not eliminated subway violence by people with psychiatric disturbances, and the shooter who killed 32 people and wounded 17 others at Virginia Tech in 2007 had previously been ordered by a judge to go to outpatient treatment, but he simply never showed up for his appointment.

Finally, the battle includes the right of patients to refuse to have their psychiatric information released to their caretakers under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 – a measure that many families believe would help them to get loved ones to take medications and go to appointments.

The concern about how to negotiate the needs of society and the civil rights of people with psychiatric disorders has been with us for centuries. There is a strong antipsychiatry movement that asserts that psychotropic medications are ineffective or harmful and refers to patients as “psychiatric survivors.” We value the right to medical autonomy, and when there is controversy over the validity of a treatment, there is even more controversy over forcing it upon people.

Psychiatric medications are very effective and benefit many people, but they don’t help everyone, and some people experience side effects. Also, we can’t deny that involuntary care can go wrong; the conservatorship of Britney Spears for 13 years is a very public example.
 

Multiple stakeholders

Many have a stake in how this plays out. There are the patients, who may be suffering and unable to recognize that they are ill, who may have valid reasons for not wanting the treatments, and who ideally should have the right to refuse care.

There are the families who watch their loved ones suffer, deteriorate, and miss the opportunities that life has to offer; who do not want their children to be homeless or incarcerated; and who may be at risk from violent behavior.

There are the mental health professionals who want to do what’s in the best interest of their patients while following legal and ethical mandates, who worry about being sued for tragic outcomes, and who can’t meet the current demand for services.

There is the taxpayer who foots the bill for disability payments, lost productivity, and institutionalization. There is our society that worries that people with psychiatric disorders will commit random acts of violence.

Finally, there are the insurers, who want to pay for as little care as possible and throw up constant hurdles in the treatment process. We must acknowledge that resources used for involuntary treatment are diverted away from those who want care.

Eleanor had many advantages that unhoused people don’t have: a supportive family, health insurance, and the financial means to pay a psychiatrist who respected her wishes to wean off her medications. She returned to a comfortable home and to personal and occupational success.

It is tragic that we have people living on the streets because of a psychiatric disorder, addiction, poverty, or some combination of these. No one should be unhoused. If the rationale of hospitalization is to decrease violence, I am not hopeful. The Epidemiologic Catchment Area study shows that people with psychiatric disorders are responsible for only 4% of all violence.

The logistics of determining which people living on the streets have psychiatric disorders, transporting them safely to medical facilities, and then finding the resources to provide for compassionate and thoughtful care in meaningful and sustained ways are very challenging.

If we don’t want people living on the streets, we need to create supports, including infrastructure to facilitate housing, access to mental health care, and addiction treatment before we resort to involuntary hospitalization.
 

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I met Eleanor when I was writing a book on involuntary psychiatric treatment. She was very ill when she presented to an emergency department in Northern California. She was looking for help and would have signed herself in, but after waiting 8 hours with no food or medical attention, she walked out and went to another hospital.

At this point, she was agitated and distressed and began screaming uncontrollably. The physician in the second ED did not offer her the option of signing in, and she was placed on a 72-hour hold and subsequently held in the hospital for 3 weeks after a judge committed her.

Like so many issues, involuntary psychiatric care is highly polarized. Some groups favor legislation to make involuntary treatment easier, while patient advocacy and civil rights groups vehemently oppose such legislation.

We don’t hear from these combatants as much as we hear from those who trumpet their views on abortion or gun control, yet this battlefield exists. It is not surprising that when New York City Mayor Eric Adams announced a plan to hospitalize homeless people with mental illnesses – involuntarily if necessary, and at the discretion of the police – people were outraged.

New York City is not the only place using this strategy to address the problem of mental illness and homelessness; California has enacted similar legislation, and every major city has homeless citizens.

Eleanor was not homeless, and fortunately, she recovered and returned to her family. However, she remained distressed and traumatized by her hospitalization for years. “It sticks with you,” she told me. “I would rather die than go in again.”

I wish I could tell you that Eleanor is unique in saying that she would rather die than go to a hospital unit for treatment, but it is not an uncommon sentiment for patients. Some people who are charged with crimes and end up in the judicial system will opt to go to jail rather than to a psychiatric hospital. It is also not easy to access outpatient psychiatric treatment.
 

Barriers to care

Many psychiatrists don’t participate with insurance networks, and publicly funded clinics may have long waiting lists, so illnesses escalate until there is a crisis and hospitalization is necessary. For many, stigma and fear of potential professional repercussions are significant barriers to care.

What are the issues that legislation attempts to address? The first is the standard for hospitalizing individuals against their will. In some states, the patient must be dangerous, while in others there is a lower standard of “gravely disabled,” and finally there are those that promote a standard of a “need for treatment.”

The second is related to medicating people against their will, a process that can be rightly perceived as an assault if the patient refuses to take oral medications and must be held down for injections. Next, the use of outpatient civil commitment – legally requiring people to get treatment if they are not in the hospital – has been increasingly invoked as a way to prevent mass murders and random violence against strangers.

All but four states have some legislation for outpatient commitment, euphemistically called Assisted Outpatient Treatment (AOT), yet these laws are difficult to enforce and expensive to enact. They are also not fully effective.

In New York City, Kendra’s Law has not eliminated subway violence by people with psychiatric disturbances, and the shooter who killed 32 people and wounded 17 others at Virginia Tech in 2007 had previously been ordered by a judge to go to outpatient treatment, but he simply never showed up for his appointment.

Finally, the battle includes the right of patients to refuse to have their psychiatric information released to their caretakers under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 – a measure that many families believe would help them to get loved ones to take medications and go to appointments.

The concern about how to negotiate the needs of society and the civil rights of people with psychiatric disorders has been with us for centuries. There is a strong antipsychiatry movement that asserts that psychotropic medications are ineffective or harmful and refers to patients as “psychiatric survivors.” We value the right to medical autonomy, and when there is controversy over the validity of a treatment, there is even more controversy over forcing it upon people.

Psychiatric medications are very effective and benefit many people, but they don’t help everyone, and some people experience side effects. Also, we can’t deny that involuntary care can go wrong; the conservatorship of Britney Spears for 13 years is a very public example.
 

Multiple stakeholders

Many have a stake in how this plays out. There are the patients, who may be suffering and unable to recognize that they are ill, who may have valid reasons for not wanting the treatments, and who ideally should have the right to refuse care.

There are the families who watch their loved ones suffer, deteriorate, and miss the opportunities that life has to offer; who do not want their children to be homeless or incarcerated; and who may be at risk from violent behavior.

There are the mental health professionals who want to do what’s in the best interest of their patients while following legal and ethical mandates, who worry about being sued for tragic outcomes, and who can’t meet the current demand for services.

There is the taxpayer who foots the bill for disability payments, lost productivity, and institutionalization. There is our society that worries that people with psychiatric disorders will commit random acts of violence.

Finally, there are the insurers, who want to pay for as little care as possible and throw up constant hurdles in the treatment process. We must acknowledge that resources used for involuntary treatment are diverted away from those who want care.

Eleanor had many advantages that unhoused people don’t have: a supportive family, health insurance, and the financial means to pay a psychiatrist who respected her wishes to wean off her medications. She returned to a comfortable home and to personal and occupational success.

It is tragic that we have people living on the streets because of a psychiatric disorder, addiction, poverty, or some combination of these. No one should be unhoused. If the rationale of hospitalization is to decrease violence, I am not hopeful. The Epidemiologic Catchment Area study shows that people with psychiatric disorders are responsible for only 4% of all violence.

The logistics of determining which people living on the streets have psychiatric disorders, transporting them safely to medical facilities, and then finding the resources to provide for compassionate and thoughtful care in meaningful and sustained ways are very challenging.

If we don’t want people living on the streets, we need to create supports, including infrastructure to facilitate housing, access to mental health care, and addiction treatment before we resort to involuntary hospitalization.
 

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

“It is one of life’s most self-evident truths that everything fades, that we fear the fading, and that we must live, nonetheless, in the face of the fear.” – Irvin D. Yalom, MD, Existential Psychotherapy, 1980

The email was titled simply, “A sorrowful note,” and I knew that someone had died. I held my breath and read as Dr. Jimmy Potash informed our entire department that Dr. Cait McFarland died in a car accident on December 7 while driving to work at West Cecil Health Center, Conowingo, Md., where she was director of psychiatry.

Sadness swelled as I remembered the outspoken resident who was interested in LGBTQ issues. Cait graduated from the Johns Hopkins residency program in 2020, she had recently married a social worker in the department, and the plan was for her to return to Hopkins full-time in July 2023 to be director of a clinic focused on mental health for people who are transgendered.

Sudden deaths are tragic and jarring and they call to the surface our losses from the past. These deaths don’t stand alone – I found myself thinking of my editor at Medscape, Dr. Bret Stetka, who died unexpectedly in August 2022, and then of Dr. Lidia Palcan Wenz, a psychiatrist I trained with, who died in a motor vehicle accident in 2004. Lidia’s husband also died in the accident, while their two young children in the back seat survived – this tragedy haunted me for some time. None of these people was close to me, but I am no stranger to the impact of unexpected death: My parents and brother all died from cardiac events, and any sudden death is a reminder of those losses.

Julia Riddle, MD, trained with Cait McFarland and was her close friend for years. “I don’t have a belief in ‘the afterlife’ but do like to think of the people that I have lost together in my memory – as if they are all suddenly in a new room together. And, with each loss, all the other occupants of that room come freshly to life again,” Dr. Riddle said.

Death is our shared destination in life, but sudden and unexpected deaths carry their own weight. There is no chance to tie up loose ends, to repair riffs, to say goodbye. Nothing is put in order, and the life that was to be lived goes on for some time as bills arrive, social and work events go unattended, vacations are canceled, and there is the awkward moment of running into someone who didn’t know your loved one has died.

Roger Lewin, MD, is a psychiatrist and writer in Towson, Md. He has both personal and professional experience with sudden death. “There is no way to prepare beforehand, so we have to get ready for what has already happened, and that is hard,” he said. “We invent a life for ourselves and others that extends into the future, and that gets interrupted.”

Most people become ill and die on a vaguely predictable schedule. There may be a chance to plan, to know and honor the wishes of the individual, and often there is the opportunity for loved ones to begin the grieving process gradually as death approaches. For those who are elderly, there may be a sense that this is the natural order of things – which may or may not temper the intensity of the grief for those who remain. If the person has suffered, the end may come with relief.

Still, I sometimes find myself surprised at the length and intensity of anguish that some people experience after losing a loved one who has lived a long and full life, who declined and suffered, but whose absence remains a gaping wound that takes years to form a scar.

Sudden death is not rare; accidents, homicide, and suicide are the top killers among young people, and cardiovascular deaths are number one among those who are older. Natural disasters and terrorist attacks can cause catastrophic numbers of sudden deaths and leave survivors to grieve not only the dead, but the loss of all that was familiar to them.

Psychiatry has been a bit lost as to how we approach grief. We often hear patients talk about anxiety surrounding death and illness, be it a fear of death or a longing for it. These fears can seem irrational – I am reminded of a patient who was afraid to eat romaine because of news reports that it was responsible for food poisoning in other states, but not Maryland, where the person lived. I found it odd that he worried about eating lettuce, but not about smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

But our fears are like that – they move to what the media sensationalizes, or to what may be remote, because otherwise no one would get in a car or clear their walkway of snow. Life is most easily lived with a bit of denial: We shut out the reality that we can be here one moment, overscheduled and overwhelmed, with deadlines, mortgage payments, and summer vacation plans, oblivious to the fact that life may end at any moment. The early months of COVID-19 felt like a global game of Russian roulette, with each venture out a pull of the trigger and everyone’s defenses stripped bare.

While death belongs to us all, we relegate it to the disciplines of religion, philosophy, the arts, and psychology. Religion offers answers – whether a heaven, a hell, or continual reincarnation until the individual attains enlightenment, there is a destination. Perhaps it will be pleasant, perhaps not, and for some there is the hope that one gets to be the driver by having the right beliefs or doing good deeds, while others are comforted by the hope of being reunited with loved ones.

“The suddenness endures and the shock lasts – it’s like a meteor that creates a crater and we revisit it in different ways from different angles,” Dr. Lewin said. “It may leap on us unexpectedly, often many years later.”

Patients talk about death, and when their fears seem unrealistic we may long to reassure them, yet there is no reassurance and psychiatry grasps for how to help. Psychiatry has looked to draw lines for when normal grief crosses to abnormal. Is it an adjustment disorder, complicated grief, “prolonged” grief, pathology in need of medication and medicalization, or something one experiences individually, sometimes for a very long time even with treatment?

One justification for pathologizing “prolonged” reactions includes the fact that insurers will pay for treatment only if there is a diagnosis code, and shouldn’t people in distress be entitled to psychotherapy or medication? Yet there is something offensive about telling someone that they are mentally ill if they don’t grieve along a prescribed timeline, as much as there is about denying them the possible benefits of therapy or medication if they seek it, but are suffering in all the “right” ways. Psychiatry’s approach to death is inelegant at best.

In his poignant podcast series, All There Is, Anderson Cooper is tasked with sorting through his mother’s apartment after her death at age 95. In the course of packing up her belongings, he brings on other guests to talk about their emotional reactions to death. Mr. Cooper’s mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, died at an advanced age, but his father died after a brief cardiac illness when Mr. Cooper was a child, and his brother died by suicide when he was 21. He uses these experiences as a springboard to examine childhood losses, the aftermath of suicide, and the loneliness of grief.

“Loss and grief is this universal experience that we will all go through multiple times in our lives,” Mr. Cooper says, “And yet it leaves us feeling so alone and so separated from other people. At least it does me and has my entire life.”

When we talk about grief and loss, we talk about “getting over it,” or “moving on.” But loss doesn’t work that way – time usually eases the pain, leaving scars that are part of the road map for who we are on the journey that defines us.

Sudden death is hard, and the unexpected death of a young person is tragic. For Cait McFarland, there are the decades she won’t get to experience. For her family and friends, it may be excruciating, and for all the patients who have lost a psychiatrist, may time bring healing and peace.

The Dr. Caitlin McFarland Educational Fund for LGBTQI+ Mental Health is being established, and donations are being accepted at https://www.gofundme.com/f/in-memory-of-cait-mcfarland.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

“It is one of life’s most self-evident truths that everything fades, that we fear the fading, and that we must live, nonetheless, in the face of the fear.” – Irvin D. Yalom, MD, Existential Psychotherapy, 1980

The email was titled simply, “A sorrowful note,” and I knew that someone had died. I held my breath and read as Dr. Jimmy Potash informed our entire department that Dr. Cait McFarland died in a car accident on December 7 while driving to work at West Cecil Health Center, Conowingo, Md., where she was director of psychiatry.

Sadness swelled as I remembered the outspoken resident who was interested in LGBTQ issues. Cait graduated from the Johns Hopkins residency program in 2020, she had recently married a social worker in the department, and the plan was for her to return to Hopkins full-time in July 2023 to be director of a clinic focused on mental health for people who are transgendered.

Sudden deaths are tragic and jarring and they call to the surface our losses from the past. These deaths don’t stand alone – I found myself thinking of my editor at Medscape, Dr. Bret Stetka, who died unexpectedly in August 2022, and then of Dr. Lidia Palcan Wenz, a psychiatrist I trained with, who died in a motor vehicle accident in 2004. Lidia’s husband also died in the accident, while their two young children in the back seat survived – this tragedy haunted me for some time. None of these people was close to me, but I am no stranger to the impact of unexpected death: My parents and brother all died from cardiac events, and any sudden death is a reminder of those losses.

Julia Riddle, MD, trained with Cait McFarland and was her close friend for years. “I don’t have a belief in ‘the afterlife’ but do like to think of the people that I have lost together in my memory – as if they are all suddenly in a new room together. And, with each loss, all the other occupants of that room come freshly to life again,” Dr. Riddle said.

Death is our shared destination in life, but sudden and unexpected deaths carry their own weight. There is no chance to tie up loose ends, to repair riffs, to say goodbye. Nothing is put in order, and the life that was to be lived goes on for some time as bills arrive, social and work events go unattended, vacations are canceled, and there is the awkward moment of running into someone who didn’t know your loved one has died.

Roger Lewin, MD, is a psychiatrist and writer in Towson, Md. He has both personal and professional experience with sudden death. “There is no way to prepare beforehand, so we have to get ready for what has already happened, and that is hard,” he said. “We invent a life for ourselves and others that extends into the future, and that gets interrupted.”

Most people become ill and die on a vaguely predictable schedule. There may be a chance to plan, to know and honor the wishes of the individual, and often there is the opportunity for loved ones to begin the grieving process gradually as death approaches. For those who are elderly, there may be a sense that this is the natural order of things – which may or may not temper the intensity of the grief for those who remain. If the person has suffered, the end may come with relief.

Still, I sometimes find myself surprised at the length and intensity of anguish that some people experience after losing a loved one who has lived a long and full life, who declined and suffered, but whose absence remains a gaping wound that takes years to form a scar.

Sudden death is not rare; accidents, homicide, and suicide are the top killers among young people, and cardiovascular deaths are number one among those who are older. Natural disasters and terrorist attacks can cause catastrophic numbers of sudden deaths and leave survivors to grieve not only the dead, but the loss of all that was familiar to them.

Psychiatry has been a bit lost as to how we approach grief. We often hear patients talk about anxiety surrounding death and illness, be it a fear of death or a longing for it. These fears can seem irrational – I am reminded of a patient who was afraid to eat romaine because of news reports that it was responsible for food poisoning in other states, but not Maryland, where the person lived. I found it odd that he worried about eating lettuce, but not about smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

But our fears are like that – they move to what the media sensationalizes, or to what may be remote, because otherwise no one would get in a car or clear their walkway of snow. Life is most easily lived with a bit of denial: We shut out the reality that we can be here one moment, overscheduled and overwhelmed, with deadlines, mortgage payments, and summer vacation plans, oblivious to the fact that life may end at any moment. The early months of COVID-19 felt like a global game of Russian roulette, with each venture out a pull of the trigger and everyone’s defenses stripped bare.

While death belongs to us all, we relegate it to the disciplines of religion, philosophy, the arts, and psychology. Religion offers answers – whether a heaven, a hell, or continual reincarnation until the individual attains enlightenment, there is a destination. Perhaps it will be pleasant, perhaps not, and for some there is the hope that one gets to be the driver by having the right beliefs or doing good deeds, while others are comforted by the hope of being reunited with loved ones.

“The suddenness endures and the shock lasts – it’s like a meteor that creates a crater and we revisit it in different ways from different angles,” Dr. Lewin said. “It may leap on us unexpectedly, often many years later.”

Patients talk about death, and when their fears seem unrealistic we may long to reassure them, yet there is no reassurance and psychiatry grasps for how to help. Psychiatry has looked to draw lines for when normal grief crosses to abnormal. Is it an adjustment disorder, complicated grief, “prolonged” grief, pathology in need of medication and medicalization, or something one experiences individually, sometimes for a very long time even with treatment?

One justification for pathologizing “prolonged” reactions includes the fact that insurers will pay for treatment only if there is a diagnosis code, and shouldn’t people in distress be entitled to psychotherapy or medication? Yet there is something offensive about telling someone that they are mentally ill if they don’t grieve along a prescribed timeline, as much as there is about denying them the possible benefits of therapy or medication if they seek it, but are suffering in all the “right” ways. Psychiatry’s approach to death is inelegant at best.

In his poignant podcast series, All There Is, Anderson Cooper is tasked with sorting through his mother’s apartment after her death at age 95. In the course of packing up her belongings, he brings on other guests to talk about their emotional reactions to death. Mr. Cooper’s mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, died at an advanced age, but his father died after a brief cardiac illness when Mr. Cooper was a child, and his brother died by suicide when he was 21. He uses these experiences as a springboard to examine childhood losses, the aftermath of suicide, and the loneliness of grief.

“Loss and grief is this universal experience that we will all go through multiple times in our lives,” Mr. Cooper says, “And yet it leaves us feeling so alone and so separated from other people. At least it does me and has my entire life.”

When we talk about grief and loss, we talk about “getting over it,” or “moving on.” But loss doesn’t work that way – time usually eases the pain, leaving scars that are part of the road map for who we are on the journey that defines us.

Sudden death is hard, and the unexpected death of a young person is tragic. For Cait McFarland, there are the decades she won’t get to experience. For her family and friends, it may be excruciating, and for all the patients who have lost a psychiatrist, may time bring healing and peace.

The Dr. Caitlin McFarland Educational Fund for LGBTQI+ Mental Health is being established, and donations are being accepted at https://www.gofundme.com/f/in-memory-of-cait-mcfarland.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

“It is one of life’s most self-evident truths that everything fades, that we fear the fading, and that we must live, nonetheless, in the face of the fear.” – Irvin D. Yalom, MD, Existential Psychotherapy, 1980

The email was titled simply, “A sorrowful note,” and I knew that someone had died. I held my breath and read as Dr. Jimmy Potash informed our entire department that Dr. Cait McFarland died in a car accident on December 7 while driving to work at West Cecil Health Center, Conowingo, Md., where she was director of psychiatry.

Sadness swelled as I remembered the outspoken resident who was interested in LGBTQ issues. Cait graduated from the Johns Hopkins residency program in 2020, she had recently married a social worker in the department, and the plan was for her to return to Hopkins full-time in July 2023 to be director of a clinic focused on mental health for people who are transgendered.

Sudden deaths are tragic and jarring and they call to the surface our losses from the past. These deaths don’t stand alone – I found myself thinking of my editor at Medscape, Dr. Bret Stetka, who died unexpectedly in August 2022, and then of Dr. Lidia Palcan Wenz, a psychiatrist I trained with, who died in a motor vehicle accident in 2004. Lidia’s husband also died in the accident, while their two young children in the back seat survived – this tragedy haunted me for some time. None of these people was close to me, but I am no stranger to the impact of unexpected death: My parents and brother all died from cardiac events, and any sudden death is a reminder of those losses.

Julia Riddle, MD, trained with Cait McFarland and was her close friend for years. “I don’t have a belief in ‘the afterlife’ but do like to think of the people that I have lost together in my memory – as if they are all suddenly in a new room together. And, with each loss, all the other occupants of that room come freshly to life again,” Dr. Riddle said.

Death is our shared destination in life, but sudden and unexpected deaths carry their own weight. There is no chance to tie up loose ends, to repair riffs, to say goodbye. Nothing is put in order, and the life that was to be lived goes on for some time as bills arrive, social and work events go unattended, vacations are canceled, and there is the awkward moment of running into someone who didn’t know your loved one has died.

Roger Lewin, MD, is a psychiatrist and writer in Towson, Md. He has both personal and professional experience with sudden death. “There is no way to prepare beforehand, so we have to get ready for what has already happened, and that is hard,” he said. “We invent a life for ourselves and others that extends into the future, and that gets interrupted.”

Most people become ill and die on a vaguely predictable schedule. There may be a chance to plan, to know and honor the wishes of the individual, and often there is the opportunity for loved ones to begin the grieving process gradually as death approaches. For those who are elderly, there may be a sense that this is the natural order of things – which may or may not temper the intensity of the grief for those who remain. If the person has suffered, the end may come with relief.

Still, I sometimes find myself surprised at the length and intensity of anguish that some people experience after losing a loved one who has lived a long and full life, who declined and suffered, but whose absence remains a gaping wound that takes years to form a scar.

Sudden death is not rare; accidents, homicide, and suicide are the top killers among young people, and cardiovascular deaths are number one among those who are older. Natural disasters and terrorist attacks can cause catastrophic numbers of sudden deaths and leave survivors to grieve not only the dead, but the loss of all that was familiar to them.

Psychiatry has been a bit lost as to how we approach grief. We often hear patients talk about anxiety surrounding death and illness, be it a fear of death or a longing for it. These fears can seem irrational – I am reminded of a patient who was afraid to eat romaine because of news reports that it was responsible for food poisoning in other states, but not Maryland, where the person lived. I found it odd that he worried about eating lettuce, but not about smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

But our fears are like that – they move to what the media sensationalizes, or to what may be remote, because otherwise no one would get in a car or clear their walkway of snow. Life is most easily lived with a bit of denial: We shut out the reality that we can be here one moment, overscheduled and overwhelmed, with deadlines, mortgage payments, and summer vacation plans, oblivious to the fact that life may end at any moment. The early months of COVID-19 felt like a global game of Russian roulette, with each venture out a pull of the trigger and everyone’s defenses stripped bare.

While death belongs to us all, we relegate it to the disciplines of religion, philosophy, the arts, and psychology. Religion offers answers – whether a heaven, a hell, or continual reincarnation until the individual attains enlightenment, there is a destination. Perhaps it will be pleasant, perhaps not, and for some there is the hope that one gets to be the driver by having the right beliefs or doing good deeds, while others are comforted by the hope of being reunited with loved ones.

“The suddenness endures and the shock lasts – it’s like a meteor that creates a crater and we revisit it in different ways from different angles,” Dr. Lewin said. “It may leap on us unexpectedly, often many years later.”

Patients talk about death, and when their fears seem unrealistic we may long to reassure them, yet there is no reassurance and psychiatry grasps for how to help. Psychiatry has looked to draw lines for when normal grief crosses to abnormal. Is it an adjustment disorder, complicated grief, “prolonged” grief, pathology in need of medication and medicalization, or something one experiences individually, sometimes for a very long time even with treatment?

One justification for pathologizing “prolonged” reactions includes the fact that insurers will pay for treatment only if there is a diagnosis code, and shouldn’t people in distress be entitled to psychotherapy or medication? Yet there is something offensive about telling someone that they are mentally ill if they don’t grieve along a prescribed timeline, as much as there is about denying them the possible benefits of therapy or medication if they seek it, but are suffering in all the “right” ways. Psychiatry’s approach to death is inelegant at best.

In his poignant podcast series, All There Is, Anderson Cooper is tasked with sorting through his mother’s apartment after her death at age 95. In the course of packing up her belongings, he brings on other guests to talk about their emotional reactions to death. Mr. Cooper’s mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, died at an advanced age, but his father died after a brief cardiac illness when Mr. Cooper was a child, and his brother died by suicide when he was 21. He uses these experiences as a springboard to examine childhood losses, the aftermath of suicide, and the loneliness of grief.

“Loss and grief is this universal experience that we will all go through multiple times in our lives,” Mr. Cooper says, “And yet it leaves us feeling so alone and so separated from other people. At least it does me and has my entire life.”

When we talk about grief and loss, we talk about “getting over it,” or “moving on.” But loss doesn’t work that way – time usually eases the pain, leaving scars that are part of the road map for who we are on the journey that defines us.

Sudden death is hard, and the unexpected death of a young person is tragic. For Cait McFarland, there are the decades she won’t get to experience. For her family and friends, it may be excruciating, and for all the patients who have lost a psychiatrist, may time bring healing and peace.

The Dr. Caitlin McFarland Educational Fund for LGBTQI+ Mental Health is being established, and donations are being accepted at https://www.gofundme.com/f/in-memory-of-cait-mcfarland.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

You only are free when you realize you belong no place – you belong every place – no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great. ~ Maya Angelou

At 8 o’clock, every weekday morning, for years and years now, two friends appear in my kitchen for coffee, and so one identity I carry includes being part of the “coffee ladies.” While this is one of the smaller and more intimate groups to which I belong, I am also a member (“distinguished,” no less) of a slightly larger group: the American Psychiatric Association, and being part of both groups is meaningful to me in more ways than I can describe.

When I think back over the years, I – like most people – have belonged to many people and places, either officially or unofficially. It is these connections that define us, fill our time, give us meaning and purpose, and anchor us. We belong to our families and friends, but we also belong to our professional and community groups, our institutions – whether they are hospitals, schools, religious centers, country clubs, or charitable organizations – as well as interest and advocacy groups. And finally, we belong to our coworkers and to our patients, and they to us, especially if we see the same people over time. Being a psychiatrist can be a solitary career, and it can take a little effort to be a part of larger worlds, especially for those who find solace in more individual activities.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that I belong to fewer of these groups. I’m no longer a little league or field hockey mom, nor a member of the neighborhood babysitting co-op, and I’ve exhausted the gamut of council and leadership positions in my APA district branch. I’ve joined organizations only to pay the membership fee, and then never gone to their meetings or events. The pandemic has accounted for some of this: I still belong to my book club, but I often read the book and don’t go to the Zoom meetings as I miss the real-life aspect of getting together. Being boxed on a screen is not the same as the one-on-one conversations before the formal book discussion. And while I still carry a host of identities, I imagine it is not unusual to belong to fewer organizations as time passes. It’s not all bad, there is something good to be said for living life at a less frenetic pace as fewer entities lay claim to my time.

In psychiatry, our patients span the range of human experience: Some are very engaged with their worlds, while others struggle to make even the most basic of connections. Their lives may seem disconnected – empty, even – and I find myself encouraging people to reach out, to find activities that will ease their loneliness and integrate a feeling of belonging in a way that adds meaning and purpose. For some people, this may be as simple as asking a friend to have lunch, but even that can be an overwhelming obstacle for someone who is depressed, or for someone who has no friends.

Patients may counter my suggestions with a host of reasons as to why they can’t connect. Perhaps their friend is too busy with work or his family, the lunch would cost too much, there’s no transportation, or no restaurant that could meet their dietary needs. Or perhaps they are just too fearful of being rejected.

Psychiatric disorders, by their nature, can be very isolating. Depressed and anxious people often find it a struggle just to get through their days, adding new people and activities is not something that brings joy. For people suffering with psychosis, their internal realities are often all-consuming and there may be no room for accommodating others. And finally, what I hear over and over, is that people are afraid of what others might think of them, and this fear is paralyzing. I try to suggest that we never really know or control what others think of us, but obviously, this does not reassure most patients as they are also bewildered by their irrational fear. To go to an event unaccompanied, or even to a party to which they have been invited, is a hurdle they won’t (or can’t) attempt.

The pandemic, with its initial months of shutdown, and then with years of fear of illness, has created new ways of connecting. Our “Zoom” world can be very convenient – in many ways it has opened up aspects of learning and connection for people who are short on time,or struggle with transportation. In the comfort of our living rooms, in pajamas and slippers, we can take classes, join clubs, attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, go to conferences or religious services, and be part of any number of organizations without flying or searching for parking. I love that, with 1 hour and a single click, I can now attend my department’s weekly Grand Rounds. But for many who struggle with using technology, or who don’t feel the same benefits from online encounters, the pandemic has been an isolating and lonely time.

It should not be assumed that isolation has been a negative experience for everyone. For many who struggle with interpersonal relationships, for children who are bullied or teased at school or who feel self-conscious sitting alone at lunch, there may not be the presumed “fear of missing out.” As one adult patient told me: “You know, I do ‘alone’ well.” For some, it has been a relief to be relieved of the pressure to socialize, attend parties, or pursue online dating – a process I think of as “people-shopping” which looks so different from the old days of organic interactions that led to romantic interactions over time. Many have found relief without the pressures of social interactions.

Community, connection, and belonging are not inconsequential things, however. They are part of what adds to life’s richness, and they are associated with good health and longevity. The Harvard Study of Adult Development, begun in 1938, has been tracking two groups of Boston teenagers – and now their wives and children – for 84 years. Tracking one group of Harvard students and another group of teens from poorer areas in Boston, the project is now on its 4th director.

George Vaillant, MD, author of “Aging Well: Surprising Guideposts to a Happier Life from the Landmark Harvard Study of Adult Development” (New York: Little, Brown Spark, 2002) was the program’s director from 1972 to 2004. “When the study began, nobody cared about empathy or attachment. But the key to healthy aging is relationships, relationships, relationships,” Dr. Vaillant said in an interview in the Harvard Gazette.

Susan Pinker is a social psychologist and author of “The Village Effect: How Face-to-Face Contact Can Make Us Healthier and Happier” (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2014). In her 2017 TED talk, she notes that in all developed countries, women live 6-8 years longer than men, and are half as likely to die at any age. She is underwhelmed by digital relationships, and says that real life relationships affect our physiological states differently and in more beneficial ways. “Building your village and sustaining it is a matter of life and death,” she states at the end of her TED talk.

I spoke with Ms. Pinker about her thoughts on how our personal villages change over time. She was quick to tell me that she is not against digital communities. “I’m not a Luddite. As a writer, I probably spend as much time facing a screen as anyone else. But it’s important to remember that digital communities can amplify existing relationships, and don’t replace in-person social contact. A lot of people have drunk the Kool-Aid about virtual experiences, even though they are not the same as real life interactions.

“Loneliness takes on a U-shaped function across adulthood,” she explained with regard to how age impacts our social connections. “People are lonely when they first leave home or when they finish college and go out into the world. Then they settle into new situations; they can make friends at work, through their children, in their neighborhood, or by belonging to organizations. As people settle into their adult lives, there are increased opportunities to connect in person. But loneliness increases again in late middle age.” She explained that everyone loses people as their children move away, friends move, and couples may divorce or a spouse dies.

“Attrition of our social face-to-face networks is an ugly feature of aging,” Ms. Pinker said. “Some people are good at replacing the vacant spots; they sense that it is important to invest in different relationships as you age. It’s like a garden that you need to tend by replacing the perennials that die off in the winter.” The United States, she pointed out, has a culture that is particularly difficult for people in their later years.

My world is a little quieter than it once was, but collecting and holding on to people is important to me. The organizations and affiliations change over time, as does the brand of coffee. So I try to inspire some of my more isolated patients to prioritize their relationships, to let go of their grudges, to tolerate the discomfort of moving from their places of comfort to the temporary discomfort of reaching out in the service of achieving a less solitary, more purposeful, and healthier life. When it doesn’t come naturally, it can be hard work.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

You only are free when you realize you belong no place – you belong every place – no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great. ~ Maya Angelou

At 8 o’clock, every weekday morning, for years and years now, two friends appear in my kitchen for coffee, and so one identity I carry includes being part of the “coffee ladies.” While this is one of the smaller and more intimate groups to which I belong, I am also a member (“distinguished,” no less) of a slightly larger group: the American Psychiatric Association, and being part of both groups is meaningful to me in more ways than I can describe.

When I think back over the years, I – like most people – have belonged to many people and places, either officially or unofficially. It is these connections that define us, fill our time, give us meaning and purpose, and anchor us. We belong to our families and friends, but we also belong to our professional and community groups, our institutions – whether they are hospitals, schools, religious centers, country clubs, or charitable organizations – as well as interest and advocacy groups. And finally, we belong to our coworkers and to our patients, and they to us, especially if we see the same people over time. Being a psychiatrist can be a solitary career, and it can take a little effort to be a part of larger worlds, especially for those who find solace in more individual activities.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that I belong to fewer of these groups. I’m no longer a little league or field hockey mom, nor a member of the neighborhood babysitting co-op, and I’ve exhausted the gamut of council and leadership positions in my APA district branch. I’ve joined organizations only to pay the membership fee, and then never gone to their meetings or events. The pandemic has accounted for some of this: I still belong to my book club, but I often read the book and don’t go to the Zoom meetings as I miss the real-life aspect of getting together. Being boxed on a screen is not the same as the one-on-one conversations before the formal book discussion. And while I still carry a host of identities, I imagine it is not unusual to belong to fewer organizations as time passes. It’s not all bad, there is something good to be said for living life at a less frenetic pace as fewer entities lay claim to my time.

In psychiatry, our patients span the range of human experience: Some are very engaged with their worlds, while others struggle to make even the most basic of connections. Their lives may seem disconnected – empty, even – and I find myself encouraging people to reach out, to find activities that will ease their loneliness and integrate a feeling of belonging in a way that adds meaning and purpose. For some people, this may be as simple as asking a friend to have lunch, but even that can be an overwhelming obstacle for someone who is depressed, or for someone who has no friends.

Patients may counter my suggestions with a host of reasons as to why they can’t connect. Perhaps their friend is too busy with work or his family, the lunch would cost too much, there’s no transportation, or no restaurant that could meet their dietary needs. Or perhaps they are just too fearful of being rejected.

Psychiatric disorders, by their nature, can be very isolating. Depressed and anxious people often find it a struggle just to get through their days, adding new people and activities is not something that brings joy. For people suffering with psychosis, their internal realities are often all-consuming and there may be no room for accommodating others. And finally, what I hear over and over, is that people are afraid of what others might think of them, and this fear is paralyzing. I try to suggest that we never really know or control what others think of us, but obviously, this does not reassure most patients as they are also bewildered by their irrational fear. To go to an event unaccompanied, or even to a party to which they have been invited, is a hurdle they won’t (or can’t) attempt.

The pandemic, with its initial months of shutdown, and then with years of fear of illness, has created new ways of connecting. Our “Zoom” world can be very convenient – in many ways it has opened up aspects of learning and connection for people who are short on time,or struggle with transportation. In the comfort of our living rooms, in pajamas and slippers, we can take classes, join clubs, attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, go to conferences or religious services, and be part of any number of organizations without flying or searching for parking. I love that, with 1 hour and a single click, I can now attend my department’s weekly Grand Rounds. But for many who struggle with using technology, or who don’t feel the same benefits from online encounters, the pandemic has been an isolating and lonely time.

It should not be assumed that isolation has been a negative experience for everyone. For many who struggle with interpersonal relationships, for children who are bullied or teased at school or who feel self-conscious sitting alone at lunch, there may not be the presumed “fear of missing out.” As one adult patient told me: “You know, I do ‘alone’ well.” For some, it has been a relief to be relieved of the pressure to socialize, attend parties, or pursue online dating – a process I think of as “people-shopping” which looks so different from the old days of organic interactions that led to romantic interactions over time. Many have found relief without the pressures of social interactions.

Community, connection, and belonging are not inconsequential things, however. They are part of what adds to life’s richness, and they are associated with good health and longevity. The Harvard Study of Adult Development, begun in 1938, has been tracking two groups of Boston teenagers – and now their wives and children – for 84 years. Tracking one group of Harvard students and another group of teens from poorer areas in Boston, the project is now on its 4th director.

George Vaillant, MD, author of “Aging Well: Surprising Guideposts to a Happier Life from the Landmark Harvard Study of Adult Development” (New York: Little, Brown Spark, 2002) was the program’s director from 1972 to 2004. “When the study began, nobody cared about empathy or attachment. But the key to healthy aging is relationships, relationships, relationships,” Dr. Vaillant said in an interview in the Harvard Gazette.

Susan Pinker is a social psychologist and author of “The Village Effect: How Face-to-Face Contact Can Make Us Healthier and Happier” (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2014). In her 2017 TED talk, she notes that in all developed countries, women live 6-8 years longer than men, and are half as likely to die at any age. She is underwhelmed by digital relationships, and says that real life relationships affect our physiological states differently and in more beneficial ways. “Building your village and sustaining it is a matter of life and death,” she states at the end of her TED talk.

I spoke with Ms. Pinker about her thoughts on how our personal villages change over time. She was quick to tell me that she is not against digital communities. “I’m not a Luddite. As a writer, I probably spend as much time facing a screen as anyone else. But it’s important to remember that digital communities can amplify existing relationships, and don’t replace in-person social contact. A lot of people have drunk the Kool-Aid about virtual experiences, even though they are not the same as real life interactions.

“Loneliness takes on a U-shaped function across adulthood,” she explained with regard to how age impacts our social connections. “People are lonely when they first leave home or when they finish college and go out into the world. Then they settle into new situations; they can make friends at work, through their children, in their neighborhood, or by belonging to organizations. As people settle into their adult lives, there are increased opportunities to connect in person. But loneliness increases again in late middle age.” She explained that everyone loses people as their children move away, friends move, and couples may divorce or a spouse dies.

“Attrition of our social face-to-face networks is an ugly feature of aging,” Ms. Pinker said. “Some people are good at replacing the vacant spots; they sense that it is important to invest in different relationships as you age. It’s like a garden that you need to tend by replacing the perennials that die off in the winter.” The United States, she pointed out, has a culture that is particularly difficult for people in their later years.

My world is a little quieter than it once was, but collecting and holding on to people is important to me. The organizations and affiliations change over time, as does the brand of coffee. So I try to inspire some of my more isolated patients to prioritize their relationships, to let go of their grudges, to tolerate the discomfort of moving from their places of comfort to the temporary discomfort of reaching out in the service of achieving a less solitary, more purposeful, and healthier life. When it doesn’t come naturally, it can be hard work.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

You only are free when you realize you belong no place – you belong every place – no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great. ~ Maya Angelou

At 8 o’clock, every weekday morning, for years and years now, two friends appear in my kitchen for coffee, and so one identity I carry includes being part of the “coffee ladies.” While this is one of the smaller and more intimate groups to which I belong, I am also a member (“distinguished,” no less) of a slightly larger group: the American Psychiatric Association, and being part of both groups is meaningful to me in more ways than I can describe.

When I think back over the years, I – like most people – have belonged to many people and places, either officially or unofficially. It is these connections that define us, fill our time, give us meaning and purpose, and anchor us. We belong to our families and friends, but we also belong to our professional and community groups, our institutions – whether they are hospitals, schools, religious centers, country clubs, or charitable organizations – as well as interest and advocacy groups. And finally, we belong to our coworkers and to our patients, and they to us, especially if we see the same people over time. Being a psychiatrist can be a solitary career, and it can take a little effort to be a part of larger worlds, especially for those who find solace in more individual activities.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that I belong to fewer of these groups. I’m no longer a little league or field hockey mom, nor a member of the neighborhood babysitting co-op, and I’ve exhausted the gamut of council and leadership positions in my APA district branch. I’ve joined organizations only to pay the membership fee, and then never gone to their meetings or events. The pandemic has accounted for some of this: I still belong to my book club, but I often read the book and don’t go to the Zoom meetings as I miss the real-life aspect of getting together. Being boxed on a screen is not the same as the one-on-one conversations before the formal book discussion. And while I still carry a host of identities, I imagine it is not unusual to belong to fewer organizations as time passes. It’s not all bad, there is something good to be said for living life at a less frenetic pace as fewer entities lay claim to my time.

In psychiatry, our patients span the range of human experience: Some are very engaged with their worlds, while others struggle to make even the most basic of connections. Their lives may seem disconnected – empty, even – and I find myself encouraging people to reach out, to find activities that will ease their loneliness and integrate a feeling of belonging in a way that adds meaning and purpose. For some people, this may be as simple as asking a friend to have lunch, but even that can be an overwhelming obstacle for someone who is depressed, or for someone who has no friends.

Patients may counter my suggestions with a host of reasons as to why they can’t connect. Perhaps their friend is too busy with work or his family, the lunch would cost too much, there’s no transportation, or no restaurant that could meet their dietary needs. Or perhaps they are just too fearful of being rejected.

Psychiatric disorders, by their nature, can be very isolating. Depressed and anxious people often find it a struggle just to get through their days, adding new people and activities is not something that brings joy. For people suffering with psychosis, their internal realities are often all-consuming and there may be no room for accommodating others. And finally, what I hear over and over, is that people are afraid of what others might think of them, and this fear is paralyzing. I try to suggest that we never really know or control what others think of us, but obviously, this does not reassure most patients as they are also bewildered by their irrational fear. To go to an event unaccompanied, or even to a party to which they have been invited, is a hurdle they won’t (or can’t) attempt.

The pandemic, with its initial months of shutdown, and then with years of fear of illness, has created new ways of connecting. Our “Zoom” world can be very convenient – in many ways it has opened up aspects of learning and connection for people who are short on time,or struggle with transportation. In the comfort of our living rooms, in pajamas and slippers, we can take classes, join clubs, attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, go to conferences or religious services, and be part of any number of organizations without flying or searching for parking. I love that, with 1 hour and a single click, I can now attend my department’s weekly Grand Rounds. But for many who struggle with using technology, or who don’t feel the same benefits from online encounters, the pandemic has been an isolating and lonely time.

It should not be assumed that isolation has been a negative experience for everyone. For many who struggle with interpersonal relationships, for children who are bullied or teased at school or who feel self-conscious sitting alone at lunch, there may not be the presumed “fear of missing out.” As one adult patient told me: “You know, I do ‘alone’ well.” For some, it has been a relief to be relieved of the pressure to socialize, attend parties, or pursue online dating – a process I think of as “people-shopping” which looks so different from the old days of organic interactions that led to romantic interactions over time. Many have found relief without the pressures of social interactions.

Community, connection, and belonging are not inconsequential things, however. They are part of what adds to life’s richness, and they are associated with good health and longevity. The Harvard Study of Adult Development, begun in 1938, has been tracking two groups of Boston teenagers – and now their wives and children – for 84 years. Tracking one group of Harvard students and another group of teens from poorer areas in Boston, the project is now on its 4th director.

George Vaillant, MD, author of “Aging Well: Surprising Guideposts to a Happier Life from the Landmark Harvard Study of Adult Development” (New York: Little, Brown Spark, 2002) was the program’s director from 1972 to 2004. “When the study began, nobody cared about empathy or attachment. But the key to healthy aging is relationships, relationships, relationships,” Dr. Vaillant said in an interview in the Harvard Gazette.

Susan Pinker is a social psychologist and author of “The Village Effect: How Face-to-Face Contact Can Make Us Healthier and Happier” (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2014). In her 2017 TED talk, she notes that in all developed countries, women live 6-8 years longer than men, and are half as likely to die at any age. She is underwhelmed by digital relationships, and says that real life relationships affect our physiological states differently and in more beneficial ways. “Building your village and sustaining it is a matter of life and death,” she states at the end of her TED talk.

I spoke with Ms. Pinker about her thoughts on how our personal villages change over time. She was quick to tell me that she is not against digital communities. “I’m not a Luddite. As a writer, I probably spend as much time facing a screen as anyone else. But it’s important to remember that digital communities can amplify existing relationships, and don’t replace in-person social contact. A lot of people have drunk the Kool-Aid about virtual experiences, even though they are not the same as real life interactions.

“Loneliness takes on a U-shaped function across adulthood,” she explained with regard to how age impacts our social connections. “People are lonely when they first leave home or when they finish college and go out into the world. Then they settle into new situations; they can make friends at work, through their children, in their neighborhood, or by belonging to organizations. As people settle into their adult lives, there are increased opportunities to connect in person. But loneliness increases again in late middle age.” She explained that everyone loses people as their children move away, friends move, and couples may divorce or a spouse dies.

“Attrition of our social face-to-face networks is an ugly feature of aging,” Ms. Pinker said. “Some people are good at replacing the vacant spots; they sense that it is important to invest in different relationships as you age. It’s like a garden that you need to tend by replacing the perennials that die off in the winter.” The United States, she pointed out, has a culture that is particularly difficult for people in their later years.

My world is a little quieter than it once was, but collecting and holding on to people is important to me. The organizations and affiliations change over time, as does the brand of coffee. So I try to inspire some of my more isolated patients to prioritize their relationships, to let go of their grudges, to tolerate the discomfort of moving from their places of comfort to the temporary discomfort of reaching out in the service of achieving a less solitary, more purposeful, and healthier life. When it doesn’t come naturally, it can be hard work.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Who doesn’t love data, especially their own? With that thought in mind, over the years I have owned several activity trackers, including at least two Fitbits, and I frequently check my iPhone to see how far I’ve walked or how many steps I have taken. My most recent acquisition is an Oura (smart ring, third generation), which includes my first sleep tracker.

Sleep trackers are not unique to the Oura Ring; they are included on many of the newer activity trackers and smart watches, but the design and breakdown of daily sleep, activity, and readiness scores are hallmarks of Oura Rings. 

The ring generates data for different phases of sleep, movements, oxygen saturation, disturbances in breathing, heart rate, and heart rate variability. I began to wonder how useful this information would be clinically and whether it might be helpful in either the diagnosis or treatment of sleep disorders.

David Neubauer, MD, is a psychiatrist at the Johns Hopkins Sleep Disorders Center. “Sleep tracking devices are more than just toys but less than medical devices. They do have clinical utility and might show findings that warrant further medical workup,” Dr. Neubauer said. “It is impressive that these devices estimate sleep as well as they do, but there is a problem with how they divide sleep stages that can lead people to believe their sleep is worse than it really is.”

For more than 50 years, he explained, sleep researchers and clinicians have categorized sleep as non–rapid eye movement (NREM) sleep stages 1-4 and REM sleep. More recently, sleep was reorganized to N1, N2, and N3 (which combines the older stages 3 and 4, representing “deep sleep” or “slow wave sleep”) and REM sleep. We normally spend more time in N2 than the other stages. However, the device companies often categorize their sleep estimates as “light sleep,” “deep sleep,” or “REM.” With “light sleep,” they are lumping together N1 and N2 sleep, and this is misleading, said Dr. Neubauer. “Understandably, people often think that there is something wrong if their tracker reports they are spending a lot of time in light sleep, when actually their sleep may be entirely normal.”
 

Sleep tracker validity

A study by Massimiliano de Zambotti, PhD, and colleagues, “The Sleep of the Ring: Comparison of the ŌURA Sleep Tracker Against Polysomnography”, looked at sleep patterns of 41 adolescents and young adults and concluded that the second-generation tracker was accurate in terms of total sleep but underestimated time spent in N3 stage sleep by approximately 20 minutes while overestimating time spent in REM sleep by 17 minutes. They concluded that the ring had potential to be clinically useful but that further studies and validation were needed. 

A larger study of the newest, third-generation Oura tracker, conducted by Altini and Kinnunen at Oura Health, found that the added sensors with the newer-generation ring led to improved accuracy, but they noted that the study was done with a healthy population and might not generalize to clinical populations. 

Fernando Goes, MD, and Matthew Reid, PhD, both at Johns Hopkins, are working on a multicenter study using the Oura Ring and the mindLAMP app to look at the impact of sleep on mood in people with mood disorders as well as healthy controls. Dr. Reid said that “validation of sleep stages takes a hit when the ring is used in people with insomnia. We find it useful for total sleep time, but when you look at sleep architecture, the concordance is only 60%. And oxygen saturation measures are less accurate in people with dark skin.”
 

Clinical uses for sleep trackers

More accurate information might prove reassuring to patients. Dr. Goes added, “One use, for example, might be to help patients to limit or come off of long-term hypnotics with a more benign intervention that incorporates passive monitoring such as that in the Oura Ring. Some patients worry excessively about not being able to sleep, and sleep monitoring data can be helpful to reduce some of these concerns so patients can focus on safer interventions, such as cognitive behavioral therapy for insomnia.” Dr. Reid believes that wearable trackers have potential usefulness in monitoring sleep in patients with insomnia. “In insomnia, sleep state misperception is common. They are hyper-aroused, and they perceive that they are awake when in fact they are sleeping.”

Dr. Goes mentioned another use for sleep trackers in clinical settings: “In our inpatient units, the nurses open the door to look in on patients every hour to monitor and document if they are sleeping. If they look in and the patient isn’t moving, they will ask the patient to raise their hand, which of course is not going to help someone to fall back asleep.” Wearable devices might provide data on sleep without the risk of waking patients every hour through the night.
 

Not medical devices

However, Dr. Neubauer emphasized that current sleep trackers are not medical devices, saying “they may be measuring the same parameters that are measured with medical devices, for example pulse oximetry or sleep states, but there’s no simple answer yet to the question of whether the devices provide reliable data for clinical decision-making.” 

Dr. Neubauer is skeptical about the accuracy of some of the measures the device provides. “I would not use the information from a consumer device to rule out obstructive sleep apnea based on good oxygen saturation numbers. So much depends on the history – snoring, gasping awakenings, reports from bed partners, and daytime sleepiness. These devices do not measure respiratory effort or nasal airflow as sleep studies do. But big drops in oxygen saturation from a consumer device certainly warrant attention for further evaluation.” Dr. Neubauer also noted that the parameters on sleep trackers do not differentiate between central or obstructive sleep apnea and that insurers won’t pay for continuous positive airway pressure to treat sleep apnea without a sleep study. 

I enjoy looking at the data, even knowing that they are not entirely accurate. As future renditions of these multisensor devices become more specific and sensitive, I predict that they will take on a role in the diagnosis and treatment of sleep disorders, and we may find more clinical uses for these devices. For now, I’m off to get more exercise, at the suggestion of my tracker!

Dinah Miller, MD, is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences, Johns Hopkins Medicine, Baltimore.

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

Who doesn’t love data, especially their own? With that thought in mind, over the years I have owned several activity trackers, including at least two Fitbits, and I frequently check my iPhone to see how far I’ve walked or how many steps I have taken. My most recent acquisition is an Oura (smart ring, third generation), which includes my first sleep tracker.

Sleep trackers are not unique to the Oura Ring; they are included on many of the newer activity trackers and smart watches, but the design and breakdown of daily sleep, activity, and readiness scores are hallmarks of Oura Rings. 

The ring generates data for different phases of sleep, movements, oxygen saturation, disturbances in breathing, heart rate, and heart rate variability. I began to wonder how useful this information would be clinically and whether it might be helpful in either the diagnosis or treatment of sleep disorders.

David Neubauer, MD, is a psychiatrist at the Johns Hopkins Sleep Disorders Center. “Sleep tracking devices are more than just toys but less than medical devices. They do have clinical utility and might show findings that warrant further medical workup,” Dr. Neubauer said. “It is impressive that these devices estimate sleep as well as they do, but there is a problem with how they divide sleep stages that can lead people to believe their sleep is worse than it really is.”

For more than 50 years, he explained, sleep researchers and clinicians have categorized sleep as non–rapid eye movement (NREM) sleep stages 1-4 and REM sleep. More recently, sleep was reorganized to N1, N2, and N3 (which combines the older stages 3 and 4, representing “deep sleep” or “slow wave sleep”) and REM sleep. We normally spend more time in N2 than the other stages. However, the device companies often categorize their sleep estimates as “light sleep,” “deep sleep,” or “REM.” With “light sleep,” they are lumping together N1 and N2 sleep, and this is misleading, said Dr. Neubauer. “Understandably, people often think that there is something wrong if their tracker reports they are spending a lot of time in light sleep, when actually their sleep may be entirely normal.”
 

Sleep tracker validity

A study by Massimiliano de Zambotti, PhD, and colleagues, “The Sleep of the Ring: Comparison of the ŌURA Sleep Tracker Against Polysomnography”, looked at sleep patterns of 41 adolescents and young adults and concluded that the second-generation tracker was accurate in terms of total sleep but underestimated time spent in N3 stage sleep by approximately 20 minutes while overestimating time spent in REM sleep by 17 minutes. They concluded that the ring had potential to be clinically useful but that further studies and validation were needed. 

A larger study of the newest, third-generation Oura tracker, conducted by Altini and Kinnunen at Oura Health, found that the added sensors with the newer-generation ring led to improved accuracy, but they noted that the study was done with a healthy population and might not generalize to clinical populations. 

Fernando Goes, MD, and Matthew Reid, PhD, both at Johns Hopkins, are working on a multicenter study using the Oura Ring and the mindLAMP app to look at the impact of sleep on mood in people with mood disorders as well as healthy controls. Dr. Reid said that “validation of sleep stages takes a hit when the ring is used in people with insomnia. We find it useful for total sleep time, but when you look at sleep architecture, the concordance is only 60%. And oxygen saturation measures are less accurate in people with dark skin.”
 

Clinical uses for sleep trackers

More accurate information might prove reassuring to patients. Dr. Goes added, “One use, for example, might be to help patients to limit or come off of long-term hypnotics with a more benign intervention that incorporates passive monitoring such as that in the Oura Ring. Some patients worry excessively about not being able to sleep, and sleep monitoring data can be helpful to reduce some of these concerns so patients can focus on safer interventions, such as cognitive behavioral therapy for insomnia.” Dr. Reid believes that wearable trackers have potential usefulness in monitoring sleep in patients with insomnia. “In insomnia, sleep state misperception is common. They are hyper-aroused, and they perceive that they are awake when in fact they are sleeping.”

Dr. Goes mentioned another use for sleep trackers in clinical settings: “In our inpatient units, the nurses open the door to look in on patients every hour to monitor and document if they are sleeping. If they look in and the patient isn’t moving, they will ask the patient to raise their hand, which of course is not going to help someone to fall back asleep.” Wearable devices might provide data on sleep without the risk of waking patients every hour through the night.
 

Not medical devices

However, Dr. Neubauer emphasized that current sleep trackers are not medical devices, saying “they may be measuring the same parameters that are measured with medical devices, for example pulse oximetry or sleep states, but there’s no simple answer yet to the question of whether the devices provide reliable data for clinical decision-making.” 

Dr. Neubauer is skeptical about the accuracy of some of the measures the device provides. “I would not use the information from a consumer device to rule out obstructive sleep apnea based on good oxygen saturation numbers. So much depends on the history – snoring, gasping awakenings, reports from bed partners, and daytime sleepiness. These devices do not measure respiratory effort or nasal airflow as sleep studies do. But big drops in oxygen saturation from a consumer device certainly warrant attention for further evaluation.” Dr. Neubauer also noted that the parameters on sleep trackers do not differentiate between central or obstructive sleep apnea and that insurers won’t pay for continuous positive airway pressure to treat sleep apnea without a sleep study. 

I enjoy looking at the data, even knowing that they are not entirely accurate. As future renditions of these multisensor devices become more specific and sensitive, I predict that they will take on a role in the diagnosis and treatment of sleep disorders, and we may find more clinical uses for these devices. For now, I’m off to get more exercise, at the suggestion of my tracker!

Dinah Miller, MD, is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences, Johns Hopkins Medicine, Baltimore.

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

Who doesn’t love data, especially their own? With that thought in mind, over the years I have owned several activity trackers, including at least two Fitbits, and I frequently check my iPhone to see how far I’ve walked or how many steps I have taken. My most recent acquisition is an Oura (smart ring, third generation), which includes my first sleep tracker.

Sleep trackers are not unique to the Oura Ring; they are included on many of the newer activity trackers and smart watches, but the design and breakdown of daily sleep, activity, and readiness scores are hallmarks of Oura Rings. 

The ring generates data for different phases of sleep, movements, oxygen saturation, disturbances in breathing, heart rate, and heart rate variability. I began to wonder how useful this information would be clinically and whether it might be helpful in either the diagnosis or treatment of sleep disorders.

David Neubauer, MD, is a psychiatrist at the Johns Hopkins Sleep Disorders Center. “Sleep tracking devices are more than just toys but less than medical devices. They do have clinical utility and might show findings that warrant further medical workup,” Dr. Neubauer said. “It is impressive that these devices estimate sleep as well as they do, but there is a problem with how they divide sleep stages that can lead people to believe their sleep is worse than it really is.”

For more than 50 years, he explained, sleep researchers and clinicians have categorized sleep as non–rapid eye movement (NREM) sleep stages 1-4 and REM sleep. More recently, sleep was reorganized to N1, N2, and N3 (which combines the older stages 3 and 4, representing “deep sleep” or “slow wave sleep”) and REM sleep. We normally spend more time in N2 than the other stages. However, the device companies often categorize their sleep estimates as “light sleep,” “deep sleep,” or “REM.” With “light sleep,” they are lumping together N1 and N2 sleep, and this is misleading, said Dr. Neubauer. “Understandably, people often think that there is something wrong if their tracker reports they are spending a lot of time in light sleep, when actually their sleep may be entirely normal.”
 

Sleep tracker validity

A study by Massimiliano de Zambotti, PhD, and colleagues, “The Sleep of the Ring: Comparison of the ŌURA Sleep Tracker Against Polysomnography”, looked at sleep patterns of 41 adolescents and young adults and concluded that the second-generation tracker was accurate in terms of total sleep but underestimated time spent in N3 stage sleep by approximately 20 minutes while overestimating time spent in REM sleep by 17 minutes. They concluded that the ring had potential to be clinically useful but that further studies and validation were needed. 

A larger study of the newest, third-generation Oura tracker, conducted by Altini and Kinnunen at Oura Health, found that the added sensors with the newer-generation ring led to improved accuracy, but they noted that the study was done with a healthy population and might not generalize to clinical populations. 

Fernando Goes, MD, and Matthew Reid, PhD, both at Johns Hopkins, are working on a multicenter study using the Oura Ring and the mindLAMP app to look at the impact of sleep on mood in people with mood disorders as well as healthy controls. Dr. Reid said that “validation of sleep stages takes a hit when the ring is used in people with insomnia. We find it useful for total sleep time, but when you look at sleep architecture, the concordance is only 60%. And oxygen saturation measures are less accurate in people with dark skin.”
 

Clinical uses for sleep trackers

More accurate information might prove reassuring to patients. Dr. Goes added, “One use, for example, might be to help patients to limit or come off of long-term hypnotics with a more benign intervention that incorporates passive monitoring such as that in the Oura Ring. Some patients worry excessively about not being able to sleep, and sleep monitoring data can be helpful to reduce some of these concerns so patients can focus on safer interventions, such as cognitive behavioral therapy for insomnia.” Dr. Reid believes that wearable trackers have potential usefulness in monitoring sleep in patients with insomnia. “In insomnia, sleep state misperception is common. They are hyper-aroused, and they perceive that they are awake when in fact they are sleeping.”

Dr. Goes mentioned another use for sleep trackers in clinical settings: “In our inpatient units, the nurses open the door to look in on patients every hour to monitor and document if they are sleeping. If they look in and the patient isn’t moving, they will ask the patient to raise their hand, which of course is not going to help someone to fall back asleep.” Wearable devices might provide data on sleep without the risk of waking patients every hour through the night.
 

Not medical devices

However, Dr. Neubauer emphasized that current sleep trackers are not medical devices, saying “they may be measuring the same parameters that are measured with medical devices, for example pulse oximetry or sleep states, but there’s no simple answer yet to the question of whether the devices provide reliable data for clinical decision-making.” 

Dr. Neubauer is skeptical about the accuracy of some of the measures the device provides. “I would not use the information from a consumer device to rule out obstructive sleep apnea based on good oxygen saturation numbers. So much depends on the history – snoring, gasping awakenings, reports from bed partners, and daytime sleepiness. These devices do not measure respiratory effort or nasal airflow as sleep studies do. But big drops in oxygen saturation from a consumer device certainly warrant attention for further evaluation.” Dr. Neubauer also noted that the parameters on sleep trackers do not differentiate between central or obstructive sleep apnea and that insurers won’t pay for continuous positive airway pressure to treat sleep apnea without a sleep study. 

I enjoy looking at the data, even knowing that they are not entirely accurate. As future renditions of these multisensor devices become more specific and sensitive, I predict that they will take on a role in the diagnosis and treatment of sleep disorders, and we may find more clinical uses for these devices. For now, I’m off to get more exercise, at the suggestion of my tracker!

Dinah Miller, MD, is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences, Johns Hopkins Medicine, Baltimore.

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