Commentary

Information is scarce regarding the impact of COVID-19 on pregnant women and newborns; health care workers (HCWs), particularly pregnant women,¹ who are caring for patients during the pandemic might experience concern and uncertainty. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) released recommendations, based on expert consensus, regarding pregnant HCWs on December 14, 2020.² We propose an appropriation of the ACOG recommendations for dermatologists and their teams caring for patients during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Risks to Pregnant HCWs

Worldwide, viral pneumonia is a leading cause of death during pregnancy,³ with higher mortality documented among pregnant patients during the 1918 influenza pandemic and the 2003 severe acute respiratory syndrome–associated coronavirus pandemic,³ and an increased rate of hospital admission documented among these patients compared to the general population during the 2009 H1N1 influenza pandemic.⁴

Data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) suggest that pregnant women with symptomatic COVID-19 (n=30,415) are at increased risk for the following (compared to nonpregnant women with symptomatic COVID-19 [n=431,410])⁵:

• Admission to the intensive care unit (10.5 of every 1000 cases vs 3.9 of every 1000 cases; adjusted risk ratio [aRR]=3.0; 95% CI, 2.6-3.4)

• Receipt of invasive ventilation (2.9 of every 1000 cases vs 1.1 of every 1000 cases; aRR=2.9; 95% CI, 2.2-3.8)

• Receipt of extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (0.7 of every 1000 cases vs 0.3 of every 1000 cases; aRR=2.4; 95% CI, 1.5-4.0)

• Death (1.5 of every 1000 cases vs 1.2 of every 1000 cases; aRR=1.7; 95% CI, 1.2-2.4).

Although the absolute risk of severe COVID-19–related outcomes is low, the CDC includes pregnant women in its increased risk category for COVID-19. Furthermore, in a systematic review of 61 studies comprising 790 COVID-19–positive pregnant women and 548 newborns, the rates of cesarean delivery, premature birth, low birth weight, and adverse pregnancy events (the latter comprising preterm birth, death or stillbirth, and early termination of pregnancy) were estimated to be 72%, 23%, 7%, and 27%, respectively.⁶ In a systematic review of 39 studies (case series and cohort studies), comprising 936 SARS-CoV-2–tested newborns of mothers with COVID-19, mother-to-fetus transmission of SARS-CoV-2 occurred during the third trimester in approximately 3.2% of infected mothers.⁷

In pregnant women with COVID-19 who develop cytokine storm syndrome, a fetal inflammatory response syndrome can ensue, which has been shown to cause ventricular expansion and bleeding in animal models.⁸ In addition, underlying conditions, such as cardiovascular disease, diabetes mellitus, pre-existing lung disease, and obesity, which are well-established risks factors for severe COVID-19 in nonpregnant patients, can increase the severity of COVID-19 in pregnant women.^5,9-11

Recommendations From ACOG for Pregnant HCWs

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that health care facilities consider limiting the exposure of pregnant HCWs to patients with confirmed or suspected COVID-19. They also recommend that pregnant women continue to work in patient-facing roles if they want to, if recommended personal protective equipment (PPE) is available for them to wear.² The US Food and Drug Administration issued an Emergency Use Authorization for 2 messenger RNA COVID-19 vaccines. Although these vaccines have not been tested in pregnant women, ACOG recommends that COVID-19 vaccines not be withheld from pregnant women who fulfill the criteria for vaccination; pregnant women who decline vaccination should be supported in their decision.¹² In dermatology, telemedicine is an effective alternative to face-to-face visits, reducing the risk of transmitting SARS-CoV-2 to physicians and patients.

Ideally, pregnant dermatology attending physicians and residents can continue to provide care through teledermatology. They also can continue to provide in-person care, if they choose to; however, higher-risk procedures should be avoided.¹² In dermatology, that might include ablative laser procedures to the face, prolonged surgery, such as hair transplantation, and intraoral or intranasal procedures. Alternatively, pregnant dermatology residents can be allocated to clinical rotations in which face-to-face contact with patients is not required such as dermatopathology and a research rotation. Likewise, telework options can be encouraged for other pregnant members of dermatology teams, including front-desk staff, nurses, medical assistants, and remaining ancillary staff.

Guidance on Face Masks for Pregnant HCWs

Universal masking of HCWs has been shown to reduce the rate of health care–related acquisition of SARS-CoV-2.¹³ However, extended use or reuse of N95 respirators might contribute to SARS-CoV-2 transmission.¹⁴ The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that all HCWs wear a face mask at all times while working in a health care facility, even if patients are wearing a face covering or face mask.² Based on CDC guidelines,¹⁵ HCWs in regions where community transmission is moderate or substantial should wear eye protection in addition to a face mask, and they should wear an N95, N95-equivalent, or higher-level respirator instead of a face mask when performing aerosol-generating procedures and surgical procedures. If working in a patient-facing role caring for patients with suspected or confirmed COVID-19, HCWs should wear an N95, N95-equivalent, or higher-level respirator; gown; gloves; and eye protection (goggles or a disposable face shield).¹⁵

Final Thoughts

COVID-19 has brought about acute and likely permanent changes to the US health care system. Dermatologists are integral members of that system and are essential to the treatment of patients with skin, hair, and nail disorders. Pregnant dermatologists and residents should refrain from patient-facing roles when feasible; however, when all recommended PPE are available, they may continue to work in patient-facing roles until they give birth if they desire to do so. Alternatively, teledermatology and non–face-to-face rotations should be encouraged. Higher-risk and aerosol-generating procedures are of particular concern regarding the risk for transmitting SARS-CoV-2 and should be avoided. Correct and universal use of PPE is paramount; when all recommended PPE is not available, pregnant HCWs should avoid exposure to patients with suspected or confirmed COVID-19. These recommendations will help safeguard pregnant members of dermatology teams during the COVID-19 pandemic while maximizing patient care.

Information is scarce regarding the impact of COVID-19 on pregnant women and newborns; health care workers (HCWs), particularly pregnant women,¹ who are caring for patients during the pandemic might experience concern and uncertainty. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) released recommendations, based on expert consensus, regarding pregnant HCWs on December 14, 2020.² We propose an appropriation of the ACOG recommendations for dermatologists and their teams caring for patients during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Risks to Pregnant HCWs

Worldwide, viral pneumonia is a leading cause of death during pregnancy,³ with higher mortality documented among pregnant patients during the 1918 influenza pandemic and the 2003 severe acute respiratory syndrome–associated coronavirus pandemic,³ and an increased rate of hospital admission documented among these patients compared to the general population during the 2009 H1N1 influenza pandemic.⁴

Data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) suggest that pregnant women with symptomatic COVID-19 (n=30,415) are at increased risk for the following (compared to nonpregnant women with symptomatic COVID-19 [n=431,410])⁵:

• Admission to the intensive care unit (10.5 of every 1000 cases vs 3.9 of every 1000 cases; adjusted risk ratio [aRR]=3.0; 95% CI, 2.6-3.4)

• Receipt of invasive ventilation (2.9 of every 1000 cases vs 1.1 of every 1000 cases; aRR=2.9; 95% CI, 2.2-3.8)

• Receipt of extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (0.7 of every 1000 cases vs 0.3 of every 1000 cases; aRR=2.4; 95% CI, 1.5-4.0)

• Death (1.5 of every 1000 cases vs 1.2 of every 1000 cases; aRR=1.7; 95% CI, 1.2-2.4).

Although the absolute risk of severe COVID-19–related outcomes is low, the CDC includes pregnant women in its increased risk category for COVID-19. Furthermore, in a systematic review of 61 studies comprising 790 COVID-19–positive pregnant women and 548 newborns, the rates of cesarean delivery, premature birth, low birth weight, and adverse pregnancy events (the latter comprising preterm birth, death or stillbirth, and early termination of pregnancy) were estimated to be 72%, 23%, 7%, and 27%, respectively.⁶ In a systematic review of 39 studies (case series and cohort studies), comprising 936 SARS-CoV-2–tested newborns of mothers with COVID-19, mother-to-fetus transmission of SARS-CoV-2 occurred during the third trimester in approximately 3.2% of infected mothers.⁷

In pregnant women with COVID-19 who develop cytokine storm syndrome, a fetal inflammatory response syndrome can ensue, which has been shown to cause ventricular expansion and bleeding in animal models.⁸ In addition, underlying conditions, such as cardiovascular disease, diabetes mellitus, pre-existing lung disease, and obesity, which are well-established risks factors for severe COVID-19 in nonpregnant patients, can increase the severity of COVID-19 in pregnant women.^5,9-11

Recommendations From ACOG for Pregnant HCWs

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that health care facilities consider limiting the exposure of pregnant HCWs to patients with confirmed or suspected COVID-19. They also recommend that pregnant women continue to work in patient-facing roles if they want to, if recommended personal protective equipment (PPE) is available for them to wear.² The US Food and Drug Administration issued an Emergency Use Authorization for 2 messenger RNA COVID-19 vaccines. Although these vaccines have not been tested in pregnant women, ACOG recommends that COVID-19 vaccines not be withheld from pregnant women who fulfill the criteria for vaccination; pregnant women who decline vaccination should be supported in their decision.¹² In dermatology, telemedicine is an effective alternative to face-to-face visits, reducing the risk of transmitting SARS-CoV-2 to physicians and patients.

Ideally, pregnant dermatology attending physicians and residents can continue to provide care through teledermatology. They also can continue to provide in-person care, if they choose to; however, higher-risk procedures should be avoided.¹² In dermatology, that might include ablative laser procedures to the face, prolonged surgery, such as hair transplantation, and intraoral or intranasal procedures. Alternatively, pregnant dermatology residents can be allocated to clinical rotations in which face-to-face contact with patients is not required such as dermatopathology and a research rotation. Likewise, telework options can be encouraged for other pregnant members of dermatology teams, including front-desk staff, nurses, medical assistants, and remaining ancillary staff.

Guidance on Face Masks for Pregnant HCWs

Universal masking of HCWs has been shown to reduce the rate of health care–related acquisition of SARS-CoV-2.¹³ However, extended use or reuse of N95 respirators might contribute to SARS-CoV-2 transmission.¹⁴ The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that all HCWs wear a face mask at all times while working in a health care facility, even if patients are wearing a face covering or face mask.² Based on CDC guidelines,¹⁵ HCWs in regions where community transmission is moderate or substantial should wear eye protection in addition to a face mask, and they should wear an N95, N95-equivalent, or higher-level respirator instead of a face mask when performing aerosol-generating procedures and surgical procedures. If working in a patient-facing role caring for patients with suspected or confirmed COVID-19, HCWs should wear an N95, N95-equivalent, or higher-level respirator; gown; gloves; and eye protection (goggles or a disposable face shield).¹⁵

Final Thoughts

COVID-19 has brought about acute and likely permanent changes to the US health care system. Dermatologists are integral members of that system and are essential to the treatment of patients with skin, hair, and nail disorders. Pregnant dermatologists and residents should refrain from patient-facing roles when feasible; however, when all recommended PPE are available, they may continue to work in patient-facing roles until they give birth if they desire to do so. Alternatively, teledermatology and non–face-to-face rotations should be encouraged. Higher-risk and aerosol-generating procedures are of particular concern regarding the risk for transmitting SARS-CoV-2 and should be avoided. Correct and universal use of PPE is paramount; when all recommended PPE is not available, pregnant HCWs should avoid exposure to patients with suspected or confirmed COVID-19. These recommendations will help safeguard pregnant members of dermatology teams during the COVID-19 pandemic while maximizing patient care.

Information is scarce regarding the impact of COVID-19 on pregnant women and newborns; health care workers (HCWs), particularly pregnant women,¹ who are caring for patients during the pandemic might experience concern and uncertainty. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) released recommendations, based on expert consensus, regarding pregnant HCWs on December 14, 2020.² We propose an appropriation of the ACOG recommendations for dermatologists and their teams caring for patients during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Risks to Pregnant HCWs

Worldwide, viral pneumonia is a leading cause of death during pregnancy,³ with higher mortality documented among pregnant patients during the 1918 influenza pandemic and the 2003 severe acute respiratory syndrome–associated coronavirus pandemic,³ and an increased rate of hospital admission documented among these patients compared to the general population during the 2009 H1N1 influenza pandemic.⁴

Data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) suggest that pregnant women with symptomatic COVID-19 (n=30,415) are at increased risk for the following (compared to nonpregnant women with symptomatic COVID-19 [n=431,410])⁵:

• Admission to the intensive care unit (10.5 of every 1000 cases vs 3.9 of every 1000 cases; adjusted risk ratio [aRR]=3.0; 95% CI, 2.6-3.4)

• Receipt of invasive ventilation (2.9 of every 1000 cases vs 1.1 of every 1000 cases; aRR=2.9; 95% CI, 2.2-3.8)

• Receipt of extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (0.7 of every 1000 cases vs 0.3 of every 1000 cases; aRR=2.4; 95% CI, 1.5-4.0)

• Death (1.5 of every 1000 cases vs 1.2 of every 1000 cases; aRR=1.7; 95% CI, 1.2-2.4).

Although the absolute risk of severe COVID-19–related outcomes is low, the CDC includes pregnant women in its increased risk category for COVID-19. Furthermore, in a systematic review of 61 studies comprising 790 COVID-19–positive pregnant women and 548 newborns, the rates of cesarean delivery, premature birth, low birth weight, and adverse pregnancy events (the latter comprising preterm birth, death or stillbirth, and early termination of pregnancy) were estimated to be 72%, 23%, 7%, and 27%, respectively.⁶ In a systematic review of 39 studies (case series and cohort studies), comprising 936 SARS-CoV-2–tested newborns of mothers with COVID-19, mother-to-fetus transmission of SARS-CoV-2 occurred during the third trimester in approximately 3.2% of infected mothers.⁷

In pregnant women with COVID-19 who develop cytokine storm syndrome, a fetal inflammatory response syndrome can ensue, which has been shown to cause ventricular expansion and bleeding in animal models.⁸ In addition, underlying conditions, such as cardiovascular disease, diabetes mellitus, pre-existing lung disease, and obesity, which are well-established risks factors for severe COVID-19 in nonpregnant patients, can increase the severity of COVID-19 in pregnant women.^5,9-11

Recommendations From ACOG for Pregnant HCWs

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that health care facilities consider limiting the exposure of pregnant HCWs to patients with confirmed or suspected COVID-19. They also recommend that pregnant women continue to work in patient-facing roles if they want to, if recommended personal protective equipment (PPE) is available for them to wear.² The US Food and Drug Administration issued an Emergency Use Authorization for 2 messenger RNA COVID-19 vaccines. Although these vaccines have not been tested in pregnant women, ACOG recommends that COVID-19 vaccines not be withheld from pregnant women who fulfill the criteria for vaccination; pregnant women who decline vaccination should be supported in their decision.¹² In dermatology, telemedicine is an effective alternative to face-to-face visits, reducing the risk of transmitting SARS-CoV-2 to physicians and patients.

Ideally, pregnant dermatology attending physicians and residents can continue to provide care through teledermatology. They also can continue to provide in-person care, if they choose to; however, higher-risk procedures should be avoided.¹² In dermatology, that might include ablative laser procedures to the face, prolonged surgery, such as hair transplantation, and intraoral or intranasal procedures. Alternatively, pregnant dermatology residents can be allocated to clinical rotations in which face-to-face contact with patients is not required such as dermatopathology and a research rotation. Likewise, telework options can be encouraged for other pregnant members of dermatology teams, including front-desk staff, nurses, medical assistants, and remaining ancillary staff.

Guidance on Face Masks for Pregnant HCWs

Universal masking of HCWs has been shown to reduce the rate of health care–related acquisition of SARS-CoV-2.¹³ However, extended use or reuse of N95 respirators might contribute to SARS-CoV-2 transmission.¹⁴ The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that all HCWs wear a face mask at all times while working in a health care facility, even if patients are wearing a face covering or face mask.² Based on CDC guidelines,¹⁵ HCWs in regions where community transmission is moderate or substantial should wear eye protection in addition to a face mask, and they should wear an N95, N95-equivalent, or higher-level respirator instead of a face mask when performing aerosol-generating procedures and surgical procedures. If working in a patient-facing role caring for patients with suspected or confirmed COVID-19, HCWs should wear an N95, N95-equivalent, or higher-level respirator; gown; gloves; and eye protection (goggles or a disposable face shield).¹⁵

Final Thoughts

COVID-19 has brought about acute and likely permanent changes to the US health care system. Dermatologists are integral members of that system and are essential to the treatment of patients with skin, hair, and nail disorders. Pregnant dermatologists and residents should refrain from patient-facing roles when feasible; however, when all recommended PPE are available, they may continue to work in patient-facing roles until they give birth if they desire to do so. Alternatively, teledermatology and non–face-to-face rotations should be encouraged. Higher-risk and aerosol-generating procedures are of particular concern regarding the risk for transmitting SARS-CoV-2 and should be avoided. Correct and universal use of PPE is paramount; when all recommended PPE is not available, pregnant HCWs should avoid exposure to patients with suspected or confirmed COVID-19. These recommendations will help safeguard pregnant members of dermatology teams during the COVID-19 pandemic while maximizing patient care.

The past year presented unprecedented challenges for many. In addition, mental health services have also been stretched to capacity. Anecdotally, some hospitals and emergency departments note that more youth have been presenting in mental health crises, and the severity of symptoms has also been higher. Safety planning is important, including working with patients to identify skills they can use in distress. Even those who do not experience suicidal thoughts may struggle with dysregulation or may use coping strategies that may not be the healthiest in the long term.

Within my practice, I see some families who are still waiting for an available therapist, or some may not wish to participate in therapy despite its being recommended. For these families, supporting them in using strategies that they may be willing and able to use in the moment to help them get through the moment of crisis can been helpful:
 

Case example (identifying details have been changed)

Emily is a 17-year-old girl who has a history of generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. She has had multiple medication trials and a course of cognitive behavioral therapy when younger, with significant improvement in symptoms. She returns to clinic because of increased anxiety related to stressors of the pandemic. She wishes to not return to therapy because of feeling that she received maximal benefit and that further sessions would not be fruitful. However, she struggles with identifying what skills she can use, and her anxiety heightens significantly to near-panic and hyperventilating with even cursory exploration of triggers for her symptoms. Medications are also discussed during this appointment, and it is noted that it may take some time to see therapeutic effect. Of note, she reports no acute safety concerns. She has engaged in skin picking. No reported substance use. As she hyperventilates, she was asked to identify items in the room matching the colors of the rainbow in order. She was able to quickly do this, and then was asked to do it again. Afterward, she noted feeling much less anxious because it distracted her from her thoughts.

Distress tolerance skills can be very helpful to navigate getting through a crisis. When under stress, some may be more likely to engage in behaviors that are not helpful in the long term such as using avoidance; procrastinating; consuming tobacco, alcohol, or other substances; spending too much time on screens; or engaging in self-harm behaviors. While some of these activities may be okay in moderation, others are always harmful. At times, when encouraging patients to use skills with which they may be more familiar, e.g., deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, the response may be, “these don’t work!” It can be important to distinguish that the function of these skills is not to make someone feel good or to eliminate the stressor, but to “take some of the edge off” so they are less likely to slide into problematic behaviors. It can be beneficial to have multiple tools at one’s disposal because not all skills will always be effective or available.

TIPP skills (temperature, intense exercise, paced breathing, progressive muscle relaxation) are distress tolerance skills from dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT),¹ which was initially developed to treat individuals with borderline personality disorder. More recently, the therapy modality has been applied to individuals who may struggle with emotion regulation for a variety of reasons. TIPP skills work quickly (within seconds to minutes) with the aim to decrease physiological arousal. They do not require a lot of thinking, and many are portable or easy to use. Given the speed of effect, these skills can also be used in lieu of p.r.n. medications or patients can be counseled about trying these instead of turning to substance use. The effect is brief (5-20 minutes), although this may lower the affective temperature sufficiently for someone to get through the intense moment or to be able to then utilize other skills that may require more cognitive reserves.
 

T – Temperature

Holding one’s breath and placing one’s face in cold water (above 50°) for 10-20 seconds to stimulate the diving response and decrease heart rate. Patients can repeat this up to 3 times. Alternatively, cold compresses or gel eye masks can be used.

I – Intense exercise

Aerobic exercise for 10-20 minutes. This can include running, jumping jacks, dancing to loud music in a way that feels intense. The parasympathetic nervous system (PNS) is activated for approximately 20 minutes after cessation of intense exercise.

P – Paced breathing

Decreasing rate of breathing, with each inhalation/exhalation cycle lasting 10-12 seconds and the exhale being longer than the inhale also activates the PNS.

P – Progressive muscle relaxation (PMR)

Sequentially tensing and relaxing muscles from head to toes. Having at least 5-10 minutes to perform this exercise is preferred.² Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia offerssample PMR recordings.

Body scans can also be helpful. This practice differs from PMR in that it is a mindfulness practice noting body sensations without trying to change them. The University of Vermont offers some sample exercises.³

These skills were described to Emily. She noted that dunking her face in cold water was effective and it was reassuring knowing she had a tool to help her anxiety. She started to push herself to go outside to exercise. We additionally incorporated other distraction techniques such as identifying items from colors of the rainbow that were around her. She appreciated that she could even do this discreetly while at school. At times she had to do a couple of rounds, but this could help stop her repetitive thoughts so she could use other skills.

Helping patients identify skills that can help in the moment can help them feel supported and gain traction in other areas.
 

Dr. Strange is an assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at the University of Vermont Medical Center and University of Vermont Robert Larner College of Medicine, both in Burlington. She works with children and adolescents. She has no relevant financial disclosures

References

1. Rathus JH, Miller AL. DBT® Skills manual for adolescents. 2015. Guilford Press.

2. Guided Relaxation Exercises, Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

3. Vermont Center for Children, Youth, and Families: Staying Close While Keeping Your Distance.
 

The past year presented unprecedented challenges for many. In addition, mental health services have also been stretched to capacity. Anecdotally, some hospitals and emergency departments note that more youth have been presenting in mental health crises, and the severity of symptoms has also been higher. Safety planning is important, including working with patients to identify skills they can use in distress. Even those who do not experience suicidal thoughts may struggle with dysregulation or may use coping strategies that may not be the healthiest in the long term.

Within my practice, I see some families who are still waiting for an available therapist, or some may not wish to participate in therapy despite its being recommended. For these families, supporting them in using strategies that they may be willing and able to use in the moment to help them get through the moment of crisis can been helpful:
 

Case example (identifying details have been changed)

Emily is a 17-year-old girl who has a history of generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. She has had multiple medication trials and a course of cognitive behavioral therapy when younger, with significant improvement in symptoms. She returns to clinic because of increased anxiety related to stressors of the pandemic. She wishes to not return to therapy because of feeling that she received maximal benefit and that further sessions would not be fruitful. However, she struggles with identifying what skills she can use, and her anxiety heightens significantly to near-panic and hyperventilating with even cursory exploration of triggers for her symptoms. Medications are also discussed during this appointment, and it is noted that it may take some time to see therapeutic effect. Of note, she reports no acute safety concerns. She has engaged in skin picking. No reported substance use. As she hyperventilates, she was asked to identify items in the room matching the colors of the rainbow in order. She was able to quickly do this, and then was asked to do it again. Afterward, she noted feeling much less anxious because it distracted her from her thoughts.

Distress tolerance skills can be very helpful to navigate getting through a crisis. When under stress, some may be more likely to engage in behaviors that are not helpful in the long term such as using avoidance; procrastinating; consuming tobacco, alcohol, or other substances; spending too much time on screens; or engaging in self-harm behaviors. While some of these activities may be okay in moderation, others are always harmful. At times, when encouraging patients to use skills with which they may be more familiar, e.g., deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, the response may be, “these don’t work!” It can be important to distinguish that the function of these skills is not to make someone feel good or to eliminate the stressor, but to “take some of the edge off” so they are less likely to slide into problematic behaviors. It can be beneficial to have multiple tools at one’s disposal because not all skills will always be effective or available.

TIPP skills (temperature, intense exercise, paced breathing, progressive muscle relaxation) are distress tolerance skills from dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT),¹ which was initially developed to treat individuals with borderline personality disorder. More recently, the therapy modality has been applied to individuals who may struggle with emotion regulation for a variety of reasons. TIPP skills work quickly (within seconds to minutes) with the aim to decrease physiological arousal. They do not require a lot of thinking, and many are portable or easy to use. Given the speed of effect, these skills can also be used in lieu of p.r.n. medications or patients can be counseled about trying these instead of turning to substance use. The effect is brief (5-20 minutes), although this may lower the affective temperature sufficiently for someone to get through the intense moment or to be able to then utilize other skills that may require more cognitive reserves.
 

T – Temperature

Holding one’s breath and placing one’s face in cold water (above 50°) for 10-20 seconds to stimulate the diving response and decrease heart rate. Patients can repeat this up to 3 times. Alternatively, cold compresses or gel eye masks can be used.

I – Intense exercise

Aerobic exercise for 10-20 minutes. This can include running, jumping jacks, dancing to loud music in a way that feels intense. The parasympathetic nervous system (PNS) is activated for approximately 20 minutes after cessation of intense exercise.

P – Paced breathing

Decreasing rate of breathing, with each inhalation/exhalation cycle lasting 10-12 seconds and the exhale being longer than the inhale also activates the PNS.

P – Progressive muscle relaxation (PMR)

Sequentially tensing and relaxing muscles from head to toes. Having at least 5-10 minutes to perform this exercise is preferred.² Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia offerssample PMR recordings.

Body scans can also be helpful. This practice differs from PMR in that it is a mindfulness practice noting body sensations without trying to change them. The University of Vermont offers some sample exercises.³

These skills were described to Emily. She noted that dunking her face in cold water was effective and it was reassuring knowing she had a tool to help her anxiety. She started to push herself to go outside to exercise. We additionally incorporated other distraction techniques such as identifying items from colors of the rainbow that were around her. She appreciated that she could even do this discreetly while at school. At times she had to do a couple of rounds, but this could help stop her repetitive thoughts so she could use other skills.

Helping patients identify skills that can help in the moment can help them feel supported and gain traction in other areas.
 

Dr. Strange is an assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at the University of Vermont Medical Center and University of Vermont Robert Larner College of Medicine, both in Burlington. She works with children and adolescents. She has no relevant financial disclosures

References

1. Rathus JH, Miller AL. DBT® Skills manual for adolescents. 2015. Guilford Press.

2. Guided Relaxation Exercises, Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

3. Vermont Center for Children, Youth, and Families: Staying Close While Keeping Your Distance.
 

The past year presented unprecedented challenges for many. In addition, mental health services have also been stretched to capacity. Anecdotally, some hospitals and emergency departments note that more youth have been presenting in mental health crises, and the severity of symptoms has also been higher. Safety planning is important, including working with patients to identify skills they can use in distress. Even those who do not experience suicidal thoughts may struggle with dysregulation or may use coping strategies that may not be the healthiest in the long term.

Within my practice, I see some families who are still waiting for an available therapist, or some may not wish to participate in therapy despite its being recommended. For these families, supporting them in using strategies that they may be willing and able to use in the moment to help them get through the moment of crisis can been helpful:
 

Case example (identifying details have been changed)

Emily is a 17-year-old girl who has a history of generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. She has had multiple medication trials and a course of cognitive behavioral therapy when younger, with significant improvement in symptoms. She returns to clinic because of increased anxiety related to stressors of the pandemic. She wishes to not return to therapy because of feeling that she received maximal benefit and that further sessions would not be fruitful. However, she struggles with identifying what skills she can use, and her anxiety heightens significantly to near-panic and hyperventilating with even cursory exploration of triggers for her symptoms. Medications are also discussed during this appointment, and it is noted that it may take some time to see therapeutic effect. Of note, she reports no acute safety concerns. She has engaged in skin picking. No reported substance use. As she hyperventilates, she was asked to identify items in the room matching the colors of the rainbow in order. She was able to quickly do this, and then was asked to do it again. Afterward, she noted feeling much less anxious because it distracted her from her thoughts.

Distress tolerance skills can be very helpful to navigate getting through a crisis. When under stress, some may be more likely to engage in behaviors that are not helpful in the long term such as using avoidance; procrastinating; consuming tobacco, alcohol, or other substances; spending too much time on screens; or engaging in self-harm behaviors. While some of these activities may be okay in moderation, others are always harmful. At times, when encouraging patients to use skills with which they may be more familiar, e.g., deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, the response may be, “these don’t work!” It can be important to distinguish that the function of these skills is not to make someone feel good or to eliminate the stressor, but to “take some of the edge off” so they are less likely to slide into problematic behaviors. It can be beneficial to have multiple tools at one’s disposal because not all skills will always be effective or available.

TIPP skills (temperature, intense exercise, paced breathing, progressive muscle relaxation) are distress tolerance skills from dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT),¹ which was initially developed to treat individuals with borderline personality disorder. More recently, the therapy modality has been applied to individuals who may struggle with emotion regulation for a variety of reasons. TIPP skills work quickly (within seconds to minutes) with the aim to decrease physiological arousal. They do not require a lot of thinking, and many are portable or easy to use. Given the speed of effect, these skills can also be used in lieu of p.r.n. medications or patients can be counseled about trying these instead of turning to substance use. The effect is brief (5-20 minutes), although this may lower the affective temperature sufficiently for someone to get through the intense moment or to be able to then utilize other skills that may require more cognitive reserves.
 

T – Temperature

Holding one’s breath and placing one’s face in cold water (above 50°) for 10-20 seconds to stimulate the diving response and decrease heart rate. Patients can repeat this up to 3 times. Alternatively, cold compresses or gel eye masks can be used.

I – Intense exercise

Aerobic exercise for 10-20 minutes. This can include running, jumping jacks, dancing to loud music in a way that feels intense. The parasympathetic nervous system (PNS) is activated for approximately 20 minutes after cessation of intense exercise.

P – Paced breathing

Decreasing rate of breathing, with each inhalation/exhalation cycle lasting 10-12 seconds and the exhale being longer than the inhale also activates the PNS.

P – Progressive muscle relaxation (PMR)

Sequentially tensing and relaxing muscles from head to toes. Having at least 5-10 minutes to perform this exercise is preferred.² Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia offerssample PMR recordings.

Body scans can also be helpful. This practice differs from PMR in that it is a mindfulness practice noting body sensations without trying to change them. The University of Vermont offers some sample exercises.³

These skills were described to Emily. She noted that dunking her face in cold water was effective and it was reassuring knowing she had a tool to help her anxiety. She started to push herself to go outside to exercise. We additionally incorporated other distraction techniques such as identifying items from colors of the rainbow that were around her. She appreciated that she could even do this discreetly while at school. At times she had to do a couple of rounds, but this could help stop her repetitive thoughts so she could use other skills.

Helping patients identify skills that can help in the moment can help them feel supported and gain traction in other areas.
 

Dr. Strange is an assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at the University of Vermont Medical Center and University of Vermont Robert Larner College of Medicine, both in Burlington. She works with children and adolescents. She has no relevant financial disclosures

References

1. Rathus JH, Miller AL. DBT® Skills manual for adolescents. 2015. Guilford Press.

2. Guided Relaxation Exercises, Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

3. Vermont Center for Children, Youth, and Families: Staying Close While Keeping Your Distance.
 

Guidelines on Skin Cancer Surgeries During the COVID-19 Pandemic

At the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued recommendations to decrease the spread of SARS-CoV-2 and optimize the use of personal protective equipment (PPE) for frontline workers.¹ In the field of dermatologic surgery, the American College of Mohs Surgery, the National Comprehensive Cancer Network, the American Society for Dermatologic Surgery, and the American Academy of Dermatology made recommendations to postpone nonessential and nonurgent procedures.^2-4 The initial guidelines of the American College of Mohs Surgery advised cancellation of all elective surgeries and deferred treatment of most cases of basal cell carcinoma for as long as 3 months; low-risk squamous cell carcinoma (SCC) and melanoma in situ treatment was deferred for as long as 2 or 3 months.³ Additional recommendations were made to reserve inpatient visits for suspicious lesions and high-risk cancers, postpone other nonessential and nonurgent appointments, and utilize telemedicine whenever possible.⁵

These recommendations led to great uncertainty and stress for patients and providers. Although numerous important variables, such as patient risk factors, severity of disease, availability of PPE and staff, and patient-to-provider transmission were considered when creating these guidelines, the patient’s experience likely was not a contributing factor.

COVID-19 Transmission During Mohs Surgery

There have been concerns that surgeons performing Mohs micrographic surgery (MMS) might be at an increased risk for COVID-19, given their close contact with high-risk sites (ie, nose, mouth) and cautery-generated aerosols; most of the estimated transmission risk associated with MMS has been based on head and neck surgery experience and publications.^6-8 Tee and colleagues⁹ recently published their institution’s MMS COVID-19 preventive measures, which, to their knowledge, have prevented all intraoperative transmission of SARS-CoV-2, even in disease-positive patients. Currently, evidence is lacking to support a high risk for SARS-CoV-2 transmission during MMS when proper PPE and personal hygiene measures as well as strict infection control protocols—presurgical COVID-19 testing in high-risk cases, COVID-19 screening optimization, visitor restrictions, and appropriate disinfection between patients—are in place.

The Impact of Postponing Treatment on Patients

Although studies have focused on the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic on physicians practicing MMS,¹⁰ little is known about the effects of delays in skin cancer treatment on patients. A survey conducted in the United Kingdom investigating the patient’s perspective found that patients expressed worry and concern about the possibility that their MMS would be postponed and greatly appreciated continuation of treatment during the pandemic.¹¹

Other medical specialties have reported their patient experiences during the pandemic. In a study examining patient perception of postponed surgical treatment of pelvic floor disorders due to COVID-19, nearly half of survey respondents were unhappy with the delay in receiving care. Furthermore, patients who reported being unhappy were more likely to report feelings of isolation and anxiety because their surgery was postponed.¹² In another study involving patients with lung cancer, 9.1% (N=15) of patients postponed their treatment during the COVID-19 pandemic because of pandemic-related anxiety.¹³

With the goal of improving care at our institution, we conducted a brief institutional review board–approved survey to evaluate how postponing MMS treatment due to the COVID-19 pandemic affected patients. All MMS patients undergoing surgery in June 2020 and July 2020 (N=99) were asked to complete our voluntary and anonymous 23-question survey in person during their procedure. We obtained 88 responses (response rate, 89%). Twenty percent of surveyed patients (n=18) reported that their MMS had been postponed; 78% of those whose MMS was postponed (n=14) indicated some level of anxiety during the waiting period. It was unclear which patients had their treatment postponed based on national guidelines and which ones elected to postpone surgery.

Tips for Health Care Providers

Patient-provider communication highlighting specific skin cancer risk and the risk vs benefit of postponing treatment might reduce anxiety and stress during the waiting period.¹⁴ A study found that COVID-19 posed a bigger threat than most noninvasive skin cancers; therefore, the authors of that study concluded that treatment for most skin cancers could be safely postponed.¹⁵ Specifically, those authors recommended prioritizing treatment for Merkel cell carcinoma, invasive SCC, and melanoma with positive margins or macroscopic residual disease. They proposed that all other skin cancers, including basal cell carcinoma, SCC in situ, and melanoma with negative margins and no macroscopic residual disease, could be safely delayed for as long as 3 months.¹⁵

For patients with multiple risk factors for COVID-19–related morbidity or mortality, delaying skin cancer treatment likely has less risk than contracting the virus.¹⁵ This information should be communicated with patients. Investigation of specific patient concerns is warranted, and case-by-case evaluation of patients’ risk factors and skin cancer risk should be considered.

Based on the current, though limited, literature, delaying medical treatment can have a negative impact on the patient experience. Furthermore, proper precautions have been shown to limit intraoperative transmission of SARS-CoV-2 during MMS, but research is lacking. Practitioners should utilize shared decision-making and evaluate a given patient’s risk factors and concerns when deciding whether to postpone treatment. We encourage other institutions to evaluate the effects that delaying MMS has had on their patients, as further studies would improve understanding of patients’ experiences during a pandemic and potentially influence future dermatology guidelines.

Guidelines on Skin Cancer Surgeries During the COVID-19 Pandemic

At the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued recommendations to decrease the spread of SARS-CoV-2 and optimize the use of personal protective equipment (PPE) for frontline workers.¹ In the field of dermatologic surgery, the American College of Mohs Surgery, the National Comprehensive Cancer Network, the American Society for Dermatologic Surgery, and the American Academy of Dermatology made recommendations to postpone nonessential and nonurgent procedures.^2-4 The initial guidelines of the American College of Mohs Surgery advised cancellation of all elective surgeries and deferred treatment of most cases of basal cell carcinoma for as long as 3 months; low-risk squamous cell carcinoma (SCC) and melanoma in situ treatment was deferred for as long as 2 or 3 months.³ Additional recommendations were made to reserve inpatient visits for suspicious lesions and high-risk cancers, postpone other nonessential and nonurgent appointments, and utilize telemedicine whenever possible.⁵

These recommendations led to great uncertainty and stress for patients and providers. Although numerous important variables, such as patient risk factors, severity of disease, availability of PPE and staff, and patient-to-provider transmission were considered when creating these guidelines, the patient’s experience likely was not a contributing factor.

COVID-19 Transmission During Mohs Surgery

There have been concerns that surgeons performing Mohs micrographic surgery (MMS) might be at an increased risk for COVID-19, given their close contact with high-risk sites (ie, nose, mouth) and cautery-generated aerosols; most of the estimated transmission risk associated with MMS has been based on head and neck surgery experience and publications.^6-8 Tee and colleagues⁹ recently published their institution’s MMS COVID-19 preventive measures, which, to their knowledge, have prevented all intraoperative transmission of SARS-CoV-2, even in disease-positive patients. Currently, evidence is lacking to support a high risk for SARS-CoV-2 transmission during MMS when proper PPE and personal hygiene measures as well as strict infection control protocols—presurgical COVID-19 testing in high-risk cases, COVID-19 screening optimization, visitor restrictions, and appropriate disinfection between patients—are in place.

The Impact of Postponing Treatment on Patients

Although studies have focused on the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic on physicians practicing MMS,¹⁰ little is known about the effects of delays in skin cancer treatment on patients. A survey conducted in the United Kingdom investigating the patient’s perspective found that patients expressed worry and concern about the possibility that their MMS would be postponed and greatly appreciated continuation of treatment during the pandemic.¹¹

Other medical specialties have reported their patient experiences during the pandemic. In a study examining patient perception of postponed surgical treatment of pelvic floor disorders due to COVID-19, nearly half of survey respondents were unhappy with the delay in receiving care. Furthermore, patients who reported being unhappy were more likely to report feelings of isolation and anxiety because their surgery was postponed.¹² In another study involving patients with lung cancer, 9.1% (N=15) of patients postponed their treatment during the COVID-19 pandemic because of pandemic-related anxiety.¹³

With the goal of improving care at our institution, we conducted a brief institutional review board–approved survey to evaluate how postponing MMS treatment due to the COVID-19 pandemic affected patients. All MMS patients undergoing surgery in June 2020 and July 2020 (N=99) were asked to complete our voluntary and anonymous 23-question survey in person during their procedure. We obtained 88 responses (response rate, 89%). Twenty percent of surveyed patients (n=18) reported that their MMS had been postponed; 78% of those whose MMS was postponed (n=14) indicated some level of anxiety during the waiting period. It was unclear which patients had their treatment postponed based on national guidelines and which ones elected to postpone surgery.

Tips for Health Care Providers

Patient-provider communication highlighting specific skin cancer risk and the risk vs benefit of postponing treatment might reduce anxiety and stress during the waiting period.¹⁴ A study found that COVID-19 posed a bigger threat than most noninvasive skin cancers; therefore, the authors of that study concluded that treatment for most skin cancers could be safely postponed.¹⁵ Specifically, those authors recommended prioritizing treatment for Merkel cell carcinoma, invasive SCC, and melanoma with positive margins or macroscopic residual disease. They proposed that all other skin cancers, including basal cell carcinoma, SCC in situ, and melanoma with negative margins and no macroscopic residual disease, could be safely delayed for as long as 3 months.¹⁵

For patients with multiple risk factors for COVID-19–related morbidity or mortality, delaying skin cancer treatment likely has less risk than contracting the virus.¹⁵ This information should be communicated with patients. Investigation of specific patient concerns is warranted, and case-by-case evaluation of patients’ risk factors and skin cancer risk should be considered.

Based on the current, though limited, literature, delaying medical treatment can have a negative impact on the patient experience. Furthermore, proper precautions have been shown to limit intraoperative transmission of SARS-CoV-2 during MMS, but research is lacking. Practitioners should utilize shared decision-making and evaluate a given patient’s risk factors and concerns when deciding whether to postpone treatment. We encourage other institutions to evaluate the effects that delaying MMS has had on their patients, as further studies would improve understanding of patients’ experiences during a pandemic and potentially influence future dermatology guidelines.

Guidelines on Skin Cancer Surgeries During the COVID-19 Pandemic

At the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued recommendations to decrease the spread of SARS-CoV-2 and optimize the use of personal protective equipment (PPE) for frontline workers.¹ In the field of dermatologic surgery, the American College of Mohs Surgery, the National Comprehensive Cancer Network, the American Society for Dermatologic Surgery, and the American Academy of Dermatology made recommendations to postpone nonessential and nonurgent procedures.^2-4 The initial guidelines of the American College of Mohs Surgery advised cancellation of all elective surgeries and deferred treatment of most cases of basal cell carcinoma for as long as 3 months; low-risk squamous cell carcinoma (SCC) and melanoma in situ treatment was deferred for as long as 2 or 3 months.³ Additional recommendations were made to reserve inpatient visits for suspicious lesions and high-risk cancers, postpone other nonessential and nonurgent appointments, and utilize telemedicine whenever possible.⁵

These recommendations led to great uncertainty and stress for patients and providers. Although numerous important variables, such as patient risk factors, severity of disease, availability of PPE and staff, and patient-to-provider transmission were considered when creating these guidelines, the patient’s experience likely was not a contributing factor.

COVID-19 Transmission During Mohs Surgery

There have been concerns that surgeons performing Mohs micrographic surgery (MMS) might be at an increased risk for COVID-19, given their close contact with high-risk sites (ie, nose, mouth) and cautery-generated aerosols; most of the estimated transmission risk associated with MMS has been based on head and neck surgery experience and publications.^6-8 Tee and colleagues⁹ recently published their institution’s MMS COVID-19 preventive measures, which, to their knowledge, have prevented all intraoperative transmission of SARS-CoV-2, even in disease-positive patients. Currently, evidence is lacking to support a high risk for SARS-CoV-2 transmission during MMS when proper PPE and personal hygiene measures as well as strict infection control protocols—presurgical COVID-19 testing in high-risk cases, COVID-19 screening optimization, visitor restrictions, and appropriate disinfection between patients—are in place.

The Impact of Postponing Treatment on Patients

Although studies have focused on the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic on physicians practicing MMS,¹⁰ little is known about the effects of delays in skin cancer treatment on patients. A survey conducted in the United Kingdom investigating the patient’s perspective found that patients expressed worry and concern about the possibility that their MMS would be postponed and greatly appreciated continuation of treatment during the pandemic.¹¹

Other medical specialties have reported their patient experiences during the pandemic. In a study examining patient perception of postponed surgical treatment of pelvic floor disorders due to COVID-19, nearly half of survey respondents were unhappy with the delay in receiving care. Furthermore, patients who reported being unhappy were more likely to report feelings of isolation and anxiety because their surgery was postponed.¹² In another study involving patients with lung cancer, 9.1% (N=15) of patients postponed their treatment during the COVID-19 pandemic because of pandemic-related anxiety.¹³

With the goal of improving care at our institution, we conducted a brief institutional review board–approved survey to evaluate how postponing MMS treatment due to the COVID-19 pandemic affected patients. All MMS patients undergoing surgery in June 2020 and July 2020 (N=99) were asked to complete our voluntary and anonymous 23-question survey in person during their procedure. We obtained 88 responses (response rate, 89%). Twenty percent of surveyed patients (n=18) reported that their MMS had been postponed; 78% of those whose MMS was postponed (n=14) indicated some level of anxiety during the waiting period. It was unclear which patients had their treatment postponed based on national guidelines and which ones elected to postpone surgery.

Tips for Health Care Providers

Patient-provider communication highlighting specific skin cancer risk and the risk vs benefit of postponing treatment might reduce anxiety and stress during the waiting period.¹⁴ A study found that COVID-19 posed a bigger threat than most noninvasive skin cancers; therefore, the authors of that study concluded that treatment for most skin cancers could be safely postponed.¹⁵ Specifically, those authors recommended prioritizing treatment for Merkel cell carcinoma, invasive SCC, and melanoma with positive margins or macroscopic residual disease. They proposed that all other skin cancers, including basal cell carcinoma, SCC in situ, and melanoma with negative margins and no macroscopic residual disease, could be safely delayed for as long as 3 months.¹⁵

For patients with multiple risk factors for COVID-19–related morbidity or mortality, delaying skin cancer treatment likely has less risk than contracting the virus.¹⁵ This information should be communicated with patients. Investigation of specific patient concerns is warranted, and case-by-case evaluation of patients’ risk factors and skin cancer risk should be considered.

Based on the current, though limited, literature, delaying medical treatment can have a negative impact on the patient experience. Furthermore, proper precautions have been shown to limit intraoperative transmission of SARS-CoV-2 during MMS, but research is lacking. Practitioners should utilize shared decision-making and evaluate a given patient’s risk factors and concerns when deciding whether to postpone treatment. We encourage other institutions to evaluate the effects that delaying MMS has had on their patients, as further studies would improve understanding of patients’ experiences during a pandemic and potentially influence future dermatology guidelines.

Recent advances in the immunopathogenesis and therapy of cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (CTCL) have shown great promise for the care of patients with mycosis fungoides (MF) and Sézary syndrome (SS).^1-3 Research into the tumor microenvironment, microbiome, and molecular genetics may yield further information as we strive to develop MF/SS therapy from the bench to the bedside.³ Although progress has been made on multiple fronts in MF, some important—particularly epidemiologic and clinical—questions remain unanswered.

Racial disparities are well known to exist in CTCLs, particularly MF and SS.^4-7 The incidence of MF and SS in the United States is higher in African American/Black patients than in White patients⁴; in addition, MF has an earlier age at onset in Black patients compared with White patients.^4,5 Gender disparities also exist, with relatively more Black females than males affected with MF^4-6; in particular, early-onset MF (ie, <40 years of age) is more common in Black females than Black males.^6,7 According to Surveillance, Epidemiology, and End Results (SEER) data⁴ and the US National Cancer Database,⁵ African American/Black patients with MF have worse outcomes compared with other races (shorter overall survival and higher mortality) and also exhibit higher stages of disease at presentation (stage IIb or higher).⁵ Black race also was found to be a predictor of poor overall survival after accounting for disease characteristics, socioeconomicfactors, and types of treatment. The factors responsible for these racial disparities remain unclear.

A fortuitous collision of interests and technology may have helped to shed light on some of the reasons for these racial disparities in MF. Nearly 2 decades ago, high-quality, whole-body digital cutaneous photography was implemented by the Dermatology Service at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center Dermatology Service (New York, New York).⁸ Although the standardized 20-pose positioning images initially were used for the follow-up evaluation of patients with multiple nevi and melanomas, we incorporated the same photography technique into our multidisciplinary Cutaneous Lymphoma Clinic at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. The multiplicity and clinical heterogeneity of MF lesions is well known, as is the fact that individual MF lesions may develop, respond to therapy, or change independently of other lesions in a given patient. We regularly reviewed these digital images with patients during their visits to assess treatment responses, discussed the need for changes in therapy in the face of progressive disease, and provided encouragement and positive reinforcement for those who improved with time-consuming regimens (eg, phototherapy).

Ultimately, as we became more familiar with looking at images in skin of color, we recognized different clinical features among our Black patients. In the literature, hypopigmented MF is a variant that typically is characterized by CD8⁺-predominant T cells and is seen more frequently in dark-skinned patients.⁹ In contrast, hyperpigmented MF has been considered a relatively rare presentation of MF.¹⁰ However, using only clinical and demographic information, we were able to identify 2 very different prognostic groups: those with hypopigmented lesions and those with only hyperpigmented and/or erythematous skin lesions.¹¹ In our retrospective review of 157 African American/Black MF patients at our institution—122 with early-stage and 35 with late-stage MF—45% of patients had hypopigmented lesions vs 52% with hyperpigmented and/or erythematous lesions but no hypopigmentation. Those with hypopigmentation had superior outcomes, with better overall survival (P=.002) and progression-free survival (P=.014). In addition, more than 80% of patients who progressed or died from disease had hyperpigmented and/or erythematous lesions without hypopigmentation.¹¹

Sometimes we have to go backward to go forward. Going from the bedside to the bench in our Black MF/SS patients—initially through the clinical recognition of prognostically different lesions, and then through clinicopathologic correlation with immunophenotyping and molecular studies—should provide important clues. Further investigation of Black patients who share similar pigmentary phenotypes of MF also may shed light on the pathogenetic mechanisms responsible for these prognostically significant skin findings. Through these efforts, we hope to identify higher-risk patients, which ultimately will lead to earlier intervention, more effective therapeutic regimens, and improved outcomes.

Recent advances in the immunopathogenesis and therapy of cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (CTCL) have shown great promise for the care of patients with mycosis fungoides (MF) and Sézary syndrome (SS).^1-3 Research into the tumor microenvironment, microbiome, and molecular genetics may yield further information as we strive to develop MF/SS therapy from the bench to the bedside.³ Although progress has been made on multiple fronts in MF, some important—particularly epidemiologic and clinical—questions remain unanswered.

Racial disparities are well known to exist in CTCLs, particularly MF and SS.^4-7 The incidence of MF and SS in the United States is higher in African American/Black patients than in White patients⁴; in addition, MF has an earlier age at onset in Black patients compared with White patients.^4,5 Gender disparities also exist, with relatively more Black females than males affected with MF^4-6; in particular, early-onset MF (ie, <40 years of age) is more common in Black females than Black males.^6,7 According to Surveillance, Epidemiology, and End Results (SEER) data⁴ and the US National Cancer Database,⁵ African American/Black patients with MF have worse outcomes compared with other races (shorter overall survival and higher mortality) and also exhibit higher stages of disease at presentation (stage IIb or higher).⁵ Black race also was found to be a predictor of poor overall survival after accounting for disease characteristics, socioeconomicfactors, and types of treatment. The factors responsible for these racial disparities remain unclear.

A fortuitous collision of interests and technology may have helped to shed light on some of the reasons for these racial disparities in MF. Nearly 2 decades ago, high-quality, whole-body digital cutaneous photography was implemented by the Dermatology Service at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center Dermatology Service (New York, New York).⁸ Although the standardized 20-pose positioning images initially were used for the follow-up evaluation of patients with multiple nevi and melanomas, we incorporated the same photography technique into our multidisciplinary Cutaneous Lymphoma Clinic at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. The multiplicity and clinical heterogeneity of MF lesions is well known, as is the fact that individual MF lesions may develop, respond to therapy, or change independently of other lesions in a given patient. We regularly reviewed these digital images with patients during their visits to assess treatment responses, discussed the need for changes in therapy in the face of progressive disease, and provided encouragement and positive reinforcement for those who improved with time-consuming regimens (eg, phototherapy).

Ultimately, as we became more familiar with looking at images in skin of color, we recognized different clinical features among our Black patients. In the literature, hypopigmented MF is a variant that typically is characterized by CD8⁺-predominant T cells and is seen more frequently in dark-skinned patients.⁹ In contrast, hyperpigmented MF has been considered a relatively rare presentation of MF.¹⁰ However, using only clinical and demographic information, we were able to identify 2 very different prognostic groups: those with hypopigmented lesions and those with only hyperpigmented and/or erythematous skin lesions.¹¹ In our retrospective review of 157 African American/Black MF patients at our institution—122 with early-stage and 35 with late-stage MF—45% of patients had hypopigmented lesions vs 52% with hyperpigmented and/or erythematous lesions but no hypopigmentation. Those with hypopigmentation had superior outcomes, with better overall survival (P=.002) and progression-free survival (P=.014). In addition, more than 80% of patients who progressed or died from disease had hyperpigmented and/or erythematous lesions without hypopigmentation.¹¹

Sometimes we have to go backward to go forward. Going from the bedside to the bench in our Black MF/SS patients—initially through the clinical recognition of prognostically different lesions, and then through clinicopathologic correlation with immunophenotyping and molecular studies—should provide important clues. Further investigation of Black patients who share similar pigmentary phenotypes of MF also may shed light on the pathogenetic mechanisms responsible for these prognostically significant skin findings. Through these efforts, we hope to identify higher-risk patients, which ultimately will lead to earlier intervention, more effective therapeutic regimens, and improved outcomes.

Recent advances in the immunopathogenesis and therapy of cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (CTCL) have shown great promise for the care of patients with mycosis fungoides (MF) and Sézary syndrome (SS).^1-3 Research into the tumor microenvironment, microbiome, and molecular genetics may yield further information as we strive to develop MF/SS therapy from the bench to the bedside.³ Although progress has been made on multiple fronts in MF, some important—particularly epidemiologic and clinical—questions remain unanswered.

Racial disparities are well known to exist in CTCLs, particularly MF and SS.^4-7 The incidence of MF and SS in the United States is higher in African American/Black patients than in White patients⁴; in addition, MF has an earlier age at onset in Black patients compared with White patients.^4,5 Gender disparities also exist, with relatively more Black females than males affected with MF^4-6; in particular, early-onset MF (ie, <40 years of age) is more common in Black females than Black males.^6,7 According to Surveillance, Epidemiology, and End Results (SEER) data⁴ and the US National Cancer Database,⁵ African American/Black patients with MF have worse outcomes compared with other races (shorter overall survival and higher mortality) and also exhibit higher stages of disease at presentation (stage IIb or higher).⁵ Black race also was found to be a predictor of poor overall survival after accounting for disease characteristics, socioeconomicfactors, and types of treatment. The factors responsible for these racial disparities remain unclear.

A fortuitous collision of interests and technology may have helped to shed light on some of the reasons for these racial disparities in MF. Nearly 2 decades ago, high-quality, whole-body digital cutaneous photography was implemented by the Dermatology Service at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center Dermatology Service (New York, New York).⁸ Although the standardized 20-pose positioning images initially were used for the follow-up evaluation of patients with multiple nevi and melanomas, we incorporated the same photography technique into our multidisciplinary Cutaneous Lymphoma Clinic at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. The multiplicity and clinical heterogeneity of MF lesions is well known, as is the fact that individual MF lesions may develop, respond to therapy, or change independently of other lesions in a given patient. We regularly reviewed these digital images with patients during their visits to assess treatment responses, discussed the need for changes in therapy in the face of progressive disease, and provided encouragement and positive reinforcement for those who improved with time-consuming regimens (eg, phototherapy).

Ultimately, as we became more familiar with looking at images in skin of color, we recognized different clinical features among our Black patients. In the literature, hypopigmented MF is a variant that typically is characterized by CD8⁺-predominant T cells and is seen more frequently in dark-skinned patients.⁹ In contrast, hyperpigmented MF has been considered a relatively rare presentation of MF.¹⁰ However, using only clinical and demographic information, we were able to identify 2 very different prognostic groups: those with hypopigmented lesions and those with only hyperpigmented and/or erythematous skin lesions.¹¹ In our retrospective review of 157 African American/Black MF patients at our institution—122 with early-stage and 35 with late-stage MF—45% of patients had hypopigmented lesions vs 52% with hyperpigmented and/or erythematous lesions but no hypopigmentation. Those with hypopigmentation had superior outcomes, with better overall survival (P=.002) and progression-free survival (P=.014). In addition, more than 80% of patients who progressed or died from disease had hyperpigmented and/or erythematous lesions without hypopigmentation.¹¹

Sometimes we have to go backward to go forward. Going from the bedside to the bench in our Black MF/SS patients—initially through the clinical recognition of prognostically different lesions, and then through clinicopathologic correlation with immunophenotyping and molecular studies—should provide important clues. Further investigation of Black patients who share similar pigmentary phenotypes of MF also may shed light on the pathogenetic mechanisms responsible for these prognostically significant skin findings. Through these efforts, we hope to identify higher-risk patients, which ultimately will lead to earlier intervention, more effective therapeutic regimens, and improved outcomes.

Recently, a patient excitedly told me during her session that she had been coming to see me for about 24 years. This was followed by positive remarks about where she was at the point when she first walked into my office.

Her progress has been slow but steady – and today, she finds herself at a much better place even within the context of having to deal with life’s complications. Her surprise about the longevity of this therapeutic relationship was easily and comfortably balanced by the pleasant feeling of well-being.

This interaction reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine, an ophthalmologist who once asked me a related question: Why is it that people have been coming to see me for decades and I have not been able to “fix” them? Does that make me feel badly?

I clearly remember my response, which started in more of a defensive mode but ended with some self-reflection. I reminded him that, in his specialty, like many other fields of medicine, we don’t get to “fix” a lot. In fact, the majority of the conditions we deal with are chronic and lingering.

However, during the process of reminding him to look in the mirror, I was also able to articulate that many of these patients came into my office in potentially dire situations, including experiencing severe depression and suicidal thoughts, ignoring basic needs such as hygiene, feeling paralyzed with panic attacks, or having complete inability to deal with day-to-day situations.

Decades later, many of these patients, while still struggling with some ongoing issues, appeared to be alive and well – and we have wonderful interactions in our office where I get to talk to them about exciting things they’re looking forward to doing with their families or for themselves. Similar analogies can be applied to almost all medical specialties. An endocrinologist might help a patient with severe diabetes or hypothyroid disease get the illness under control but is not able to fix the problem. Clearly, patients’ quality of life improves tremendously through treatment with medications and with education about lifestyle changes, such as exercise and diet.

Even in the case of surgeons who may successfully remove the problem tissue or tumor, the patient is not in fact “fixed” and still requires ongoing medical care, psychosocial interventions, and pharmacotherapy to maintain or improve upon quality of life.

My patient’s remarks led to a similar, delightful therapeutic session reflecting on her progress and what it meant to both of us. We physicians certainly find it very frustrating that we are unable to fix things and make people feel completely better. However, it is important to reflect on the difference our contribution to the process of healing makes for our patients and the impact it has on their quality of life – which is meaningful to them, however small it may be.

Even in the most severe medical or psychiatric cases, we can provide hope and encouragement, which could lead to minimal or no improvement in the pathological condition but may in fact improve patients’ outlook and willingness to carry on with dignity and satisfaction. It could do us all a lot of good to think of ourselves as healers – not fixers.
 

Dr. Awan, a psychiatrist, is medical director of Pennsylvania Counseling Services in Reading. He disclosed no conflicts of interest.

Recently, a patient excitedly told me during her session that she had been coming to see me for about 24 years. This was followed by positive remarks about where she was at the point when she first walked into my office.

Her progress has been slow but steady – and today, she finds herself at a much better place even within the context of having to deal with life’s complications. Her surprise about the longevity of this therapeutic relationship was easily and comfortably balanced by the pleasant feeling of well-being.

This interaction reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine, an ophthalmologist who once asked me a related question: Why is it that people have been coming to see me for decades and I have not been able to “fix” them? Does that make me feel badly?

I clearly remember my response, which started in more of a defensive mode but ended with some self-reflection. I reminded him that, in his specialty, like many other fields of medicine, we don’t get to “fix” a lot. In fact, the majority of the conditions we deal with are chronic and lingering.

However, during the process of reminding him to look in the mirror, I was also able to articulate that many of these patients came into my office in potentially dire situations, including experiencing severe depression and suicidal thoughts, ignoring basic needs such as hygiene, feeling paralyzed with panic attacks, or having complete inability to deal with day-to-day situations.

Decades later, many of these patients, while still struggling with some ongoing issues, appeared to be alive and well – and we have wonderful interactions in our office where I get to talk to them about exciting things they’re looking forward to doing with their families or for themselves. Similar analogies can be applied to almost all medical specialties. An endocrinologist might help a patient with severe diabetes or hypothyroid disease get the illness under control but is not able to fix the problem. Clearly, patients’ quality of life improves tremendously through treatment with medications and with education about lifestyle changes, such as exercise and diet.

Even in the case of surgeons who may successfully remove the problem tissue or tumor, the patient is not in fact “fixed” and still requires ongoing medical care, psychosocial interventions, and pharmacotherapy to maintain or improve upon quality of life.

My patient’s remarks led to a similar, delightful therapeutic session reflecting on her progress and what it meant to both of us. We physicians certainly find it very frustrating that we are unable to fix things and make people feel completely better. However, it is important to reflect on the difference our contribution to the process of healing makes for our patients and the impact it has on their quality of life – which is meaningful to them, however small it may be.

Even in the most severe medical or psychiatric cases, we can provide hope and encouragement, which could lead to minimal or no improvement in the pathological condition but may in fact improve patients’ outlook and willingness to carry on with dignity and satisfaction. It could do us all a lot of good to think of ourselves as healers – not fixers.
 

Dr. Awan, a psychiatrist, is medical director of Pennsylvania Counseling Services in Reading. He disclosed no conflicts of interest.

Recently, a patient excitedly told me during her session that she had been coming to see me for about 24 years. This was followed by positive remarks about where she was at the point when she first walked into my office.

Her progress has been slow but steady – and today, she finds herself at a much better place even within the context of having to deal with life’s complications. Her surprise about the longevity of this therapeutic relationship was easily and comfortably balanced by the pleasant feeling of well-being.

This interaction reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine, an ophthalmologist who once asked me a related question: Why is it that people have been coming to see me for decades and I have not been able to “fix” them? Does that make me feel badly?

I clearly remember my response, which started in more of a defensive mode but ended with some self-reflection. I reminded him that, in his specialty, like many other fields of medicine, we don’t get to “fix” a lot. In fact, the majority of the conditions we deal with are chronic and lingering.

However, during the process of reminding him to look in the mirror, I was also able to articulate that many of these patients came into my office in potentially dire situations, including experiencing severe depression and suicidal thoughts, ignoring basic needs such as hygiene, feeling paralyzed with panic attacks, or having complete inability to deal with day-to-day situations.

Decades later, many of these patients, while still struggling with some ongoing issues, appeared to be alive and well – and we have wonderful interactions in our office where I get to talk to them about exciting things they’re looking forward to doing with their families or for themselves. Similar analogies can be applied to almost all medical specialties. An endocrinologist might help a patient with severe diabetes or hypothyroid disease get the illness under control but is not able to fix the problem. Clearly, patients’ quality of life improves tremendously through treatment with medications and with education about lifestyle changes, such as exercise and diet.

Even in the case of surgeons who may successfully remove the problem tissue or tumor, the patient is not in fact “fixed” and still requires ongoing medical care, psychosocial interventions, and pharmacotherapy to maintain or improve upon quality of life.

My patient’s remarks led to a similar, delightful therapeutic session reflecting on her progress and what it meant to both of us. We physicians certainly find it very frustrating that we are unable to fix things and make people feel completely better. However, it is important to reflect on the difference our contribution to the process of healing makes for our patients and the impact it has on their quality of life – which is meaningful to them, however small it may be.

Even in the most severe medical or psychiatric cases, we can provide hope and encouragement, which could lead to minimal or no improvement in the pathological condition but may in fact improve patients’ outlook and willingness to carry on with dignity and satisfaction. It could do us all a lot of good to think of ourselves as healers – not fixers.
 

Dr. Awan, a psychiatrist, is medical director of Pennsylvania Counseling Services in Reading. He disclosed no conflicts of interest.

Words matter. So, hear me when I say: I am Asian. I am American. I am a woman. I am not COVID-19. I did not create this virus. I did not place it in my pocket and bring it to the world, sprinkling it like pixie dust, along each path I’ve crossed.

My words create a story, and not just those of one psychiatrist reaching out to others. It’s the story of how the powerful use of words throughout my life inflicted racism upon me, even when unacknowledged by my conscious self. I share my story to let you know you are not alone in your journey of unwinding the cumulative systemic racist words and actions that might have affected your self-identification and self-love. I hope you channel that renewed sense of discovery to empower you to use your own words to create a positive impact for yourself and others – whether it is for your patients, friends, or community.

Currently, I serve as a physician and an advocate. I lead telehealth and developed software that screens for suicide risk (with support of a digital health grant). I also joined friends to develop a by-clinician, for-clinician telemental health platform.

Outside of my Hippocratic Oath, my mission, at its core, was to destigmatize mental illness through cultivating thoughtful conversations. But I am also so much more; aren’t we all? I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, and an American. I am working hard to create a life I love – the embodiment of the American Dream. If you meet me face to face, no curriculum vitae, no email, I’m Vietnamese. However, I am not the color of my skin or the shape of my eyes. I am no more defined by my lingering Vietnamese accent than I am by its Texan counterpart. Yet, throughout my life, my Vietnamese ethnicity has been a marker that others have used to define and objectify me.
 

Trauma emerges on national stage

I never thought it would happen to me, but as a resident physician, one of my most traumatic experiences of abusive power was when Donald Trump was running for president in 2016. He was using words and rhetoric that objectified women by classifying and quantifying their “attractiveness.” This culminated in a scandal surrounding a recording in which he said he would grab women by the $%&#@ ... and had been allowed to do so because he was a celebrity. That episode affected me profoundly, maybe more than most. As a child and adolescent psychiatrist, I knew the impact those words could have on future generations, and, as a woman and an aunt, I was appalled. But then, the effect turned to assault. Words matter.

I was living in New York City and as I made my nightly walk home on the Upper East Side, a man followed me. When I walked up the stairs to my building, he actually grabbed me ... by the $%&#@. He did this with the same casual manner that one might greet a coworker with a high-five. He then turned and walked away, laughing. I was overcome with shock; shocked that I could be so violated and yet thankful that he hadn’t taken any more aggressive liberties. He didn’t run away. He walked out as calmly as he had walked in, despite violating a most private piece of my femininity. And he laughed. As much as it jilted me, angered me, and made me feel demeaned and less-than, I know it’s a blessing that the story ended there; so often attacks against women end so much worse.

I questioned: “Why?” Why would this man do this to me? To anyone? I don’t know the answer, but I do know this: The things we normalize through the words we hear in the world, on the news, and at our dinner tables become action. It happened. This man didn’t skulk off into the alleyway. He didn’t hide. He laughed because he felt entitled. That’s because words matter.

My journey is paved with words that mattered. I was born in Vietnam; my family legally immigrated to the United States when I was 5 years old. Throughout grade school, I began to realize the power of spoken words, especially when I was frequently told to go back to where I came from. Questions flew at me like bullets, and whether innocent or borne of curiosity, were hurtful reminders that, through no choice of my own, I was an unwelcome foreigner. “Where are you from?” ... “No, where are you really, really from?” I felt eyes peering through me when my mother packed for me our culture’s traditional foods for lunch. “Ew, what’s that?” ... “That’s gross it smells.” How I longed for the cloak of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and blonde hair.

As I approached high school, college, and postgraduate work, the “where are you from?” questions didn’t stop but took on a new connotation, as if I were some exotic pet that men had seen walking down the street. “Ooh, what is that?” While history is riddled with the objectification of women, rarely would any woman expect to have a stranger approach her and objectify her with a statement such as: “I only date girls with breast implants.” For Asian women, however, experiencing verbal objectification has become the norm. Each approach I faced was followed by a story about Asian girlfriends of their past and a request for my phone number that felt more like a demand.

What these men probably meant as flirtation, I internalized as inescapable concerns of whether or not they had true desire to get to know me as a person. I became used to unsolicited words and attention from men who objectified me as an exotic fetish. I tried to pretend it was okay, but why? Objectifying Asian women is racism. Their words remind me, and I still hear them, that America has a long history of hypersexualizing Asian women. These words – at their core – dehumanize Asian women, and as we have seen, lead to violence.

Over the past few weeks, there’s been discourse about the mass shooting in Atlanta. We need to pause and remember that the victims, like us, were human. These women killed in Atlanta had husbands, children, siblings, parents, and communities that they were taken away from, senselessly, based solely on their outward appearance. Whether or not this act was perpetrated by someone with a sexual addiction doesn’t matter. What happened is rooted in the systemic racism that has stereotyped Asian women as sexual objects. The perpetrator targeted a group of people because of the systemic racism ingrained in him, plain and simple.

Everybody, no matter how evolved one’s thinking, is influenced by words. You don’t have to have mental illness or malicious intent to fall for propaganda – that’s what makes it so scary, it works so well. Even among my own friends and family, some of the most compassionate people I know, I’ve heard disparaging remarks against Chinese people, from other Asians, repeating the same rhetoric they’ve seen in American newspapers and Asian media outlets, echoing the former president’s coronavirus references to the “Chinese virus.”

But what makes something systemic? What feeds this virus of hate and gives these practices their longevity? Pointing out problems doesn’t make them go away; we have to cultivate conversation based around solutions. And that’s our next step. What can we do to make a positive impact?

Words have affected my life, and my words have given me power. I encourage others to engage in activities where they too can feel empowered. Since the beginning of the pandemic, I’ve leveraged my leadership position with the American Psychiatric Association’s Caucus of Asian American Psychiatrists and used my words to promote advocacy. I’ve also used my voice to raise national attention to the anti-Asian hate activities. Motivated by my own desire to seek a supportive space with others to reflect on our racial identities, I’ve also launched various free support groups for Asian American and Pacific Islanders (AAPI) professionals and health care providers. I want to feel a sense of connection with others who share my experiences, as I never underestimate the phenomenal force of comforting words from a healing community.

Clinicians need their own space for processing, too. It is vitally important for us to take care of ourselves, because our patients’ words can affect our own mental health. My colleagues are shocked by the amount of AAPI patients who are reaching out to them for care. Most of them have not worked with AAPI patients before, because so many people of AAPI descent do not often seek treatment. Many of our patients are dealing with anxiety surrounding their own health and wellness, coupled with financial uncertainties and social unrest. In particular, AAPI clinicians may start to experience bystander trauma, because, for the first time, they are thinking: “It could have been me.” AAPI clinicians are in a unique situation where they have the extra burden of providing a safe space for processing clients’ trauma while also processing their own. We may have experiences of discrimination or racially motivated assaults and can reexperience this trauma through our work. Before we can help others, we have to do a self-check and reflect on how we are doing and seek our own support.

If you are able to take care of yourself and feel empowered to make a difference, there are many ways to help fight against anti-Asian sentiment, both on a personal and more global scale.

We have to check our biases and those of our family, friends, and colleagues. Everyone, even mental health professionals, has biases and is affected by disinformation. We have to dig deep into our own unconscious biases, reflect on them, and commit to changing the biases around us. Do we, or our families, have unconscious biases against a particular minority group? If so, discuss it. No one is to blame. This is systemic, and no one is at fault. White men are not to be vilified. Conservative Republicans are not our enemy. Each of us is human, with our own flaws that can influence our own conscious and unconscious thoughts and actions. Let’s discuss racial issues with our family and friends. Whenever someone says something hateful or discriminatory toward another ethnic group or racial background, we have to call it out, and help them realize their biases and change them.

If you are able, use your words to write to your elected representatives. Send them a short email, no need to be fancy. For example, you can send a note of support for legislation that is similar to the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act, which passed the Senate on Thursday, April 22, with 94:1 bipartisan support. This kind of legislation is a step in the right direction, but there is still more we must do to stop anti-Asian biases and hate. There is empowerment and healing through making your own voice heard. I hope that these tragic incidents will lead to impactful policy changes.

The next step in this journey of empowerment is speaking about your lived experiences publicly and promoting the voices of others. I dedicated a section of my social media platforms to amplifying Asian voices, sharing news, and updating my hashtags to support the #StopAsianHate movement. I made it a point to form relationships with other advocates, AAPI mental health professionals and those personally affected by anti-Asian hate. Speaking up and speaking out didn’t take away my worries, but it did remind me that I’m powerful and that I am not alone. I can take action and demand action. I do not have to hide in the shadows but can stand in the light, using my voice like a megaphone to call out injustice and intolerance.

I hope that, for AAPI clinicians who may be affected by these current events, this validates your experiences. You are not alone. This is a reminder to treat yourself with empathy as you would your patients. For others, I hope this helps you to learn the plight of many AAPI community members in this country. Together, we can use words to create better neighborhoods, a better country, and safe spaces for all communities, especially the marginalized. As we know, words matter.

Dr. Vo is a board-certified psychiatrist and is the medical director of telehealth for the department of child and adolescent psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. She is also a faculty member at the University of Pennsylvania, also in Philadelphia. Dr. Vo conducts digital health research focused on using automation and artificial intelligence for suicide risk screening and connecting patients to mental health care services. She disclosed serving as cofounder of telemental health software, Orchid, that eliminates burdensome administrative tasks so that clinicians can focus on their patients and have time for their loved ones.
 

Words matter. So, hear me when I say: I am Asian. I am American. I am a woman. I am not COVID-19. I did not create this virus. I did not place it in my pocket and bring it to the world, sprinkling it like pixie dust, along each path I’ve crossed.

My words create a story, and not just those of one psychiatrist reaching out to others. It’s the story of how the powerful use of words throughout my life inflicted racism upon me, even when unacknowledged by my conscious self. I share my story to let you know you are not alone in your journey of unwinding the cumulative systemic racist words and actions that might have affected your self-identification and self-love. I hope you channel that renewed sense of discovery to empower you to use your own words to create a positive impact for yourself and others – whether it is for your patients, friends, or community.

Currently, I serve as a physician and an advocate. I lead telehealth and developed software that screens for suicide risk (with support of a digital health grant). I also joined friends to develop a by-clinician, for-clinician telemental health platform.

Outside of my Hippocratic Oath, my mission, at its core, was to destigmatize mental illness through cultivating thoughtful conversations. But I am also so much more; aren’t we all? I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, and an American. I am working hard to create a life I love – the embodiment of the American Dream. If you meet me face to face, no curriculum vitae, no email, I’m Vietnamese. However, I am not the color of my skin or the shape of my eyes. I am no more defined by my lingering Vietnamese accent than I am by its Texan counterpart. Yet, throughout my life, my Vietnamese ethnicity has been a marker that others have used to define and objectify me.
 

Trauma emerges on national stage

I never thought it would happen to me, but as a resident physician, one of my most traumatic experiences of abusive power was when Donald Trump was running for president in 2016. He was using words and rhetoric that objectified women by classifying and quantifying their “attractiveness.” This culminated in a scandal surrounding a recording in which he said he would grab women by the $%&#@ ... and had been allowed to do so because he was a celebrity. That episode affected me profoundly, maybe more than most. As a child and adolescent psychiatrist, I knew the impact those words could have on future generations, and, as a woman and an aunt, I was appalled. But then, the effect turned to assault. Words matter.

I was living in New York City and as I made my nightly walk home on the Upper East Side, a man followed me. When I walked up the stairs to my building, he actually grabbed me ... by the $%&#@. He did this with the same casual manner that one might greet a coworker with a high-five. He then turned and walked away, laughing. I was overcome with shock; shocked that I could be so violated and yet thankful that he hadn’t taken any more aggressive liberties. He didn’t run away. He walked out as calmly as he had walked in, despite violating a most private piece of my femininity. And he laughed. As much as it jilted me, angered me, and made me feel demeaned and less-than, I know it’s a blessing that the story ended there; so often attacks against women end so much worse.

I questioned: “Why?” Why would this man do this to me? To anyone? I don’t know the answer, but I do know this: The things we normalize through the words we hear in the world, on the news, and at our dinner tables become action. It happened. This man didn’t skulk off into the alleyway. He didn’t hide. He laughed because he felt entitled. That’s because words matter.

My journey is paved with words that mattered. I was born in Vietnam; my family legally immigrated to the United States when I was 5 years old. Throughout grade school, I began to realize the power of spoken words, especially when I was frequently told to go back to where I came from. Questions flew at me like bullets, and whether innocent or borne of curiosity, were hurtful reminders that, through no choice of my own, I was an unwelcome foreigner. “Where are you from?” ... “No, where are you really, really from?” I felt eyes peering through me when my mother packed for me our culture’s traditional foods for lunch. “Ew, what’s that?” ... “That’s gross it smells.” How I longed for the cloak of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and blonde hair.

As I approached high school, college, and postgraduate work, the “where are you from?” questions didn’t stop but took on a new connotation, as if I were some exotic pet that men had seen walking down the street. “Ooh, what is that?” While history is riddled with the objectification of women, rarely would any woman expect to have a stranger approach her and objectify her with a statement such as: “I only date girls with breast implants.” For Asian women, however, experiencing verbal objectification has become the norm. Each approach I faced was followed by a story about Asian girlfriends of their past and a request for my phone number that felt more like a demand.

What these men probably meant as flirtation, I internalized as inescapable concerns of whether or not they had true desire to get to know me as a person. I became used to unsolicited words and attention from men who objectified me as an exotic fetish. I tried to pretend it was okay, but why? Objectifying Asian women is racism. Their words remind me, and I still hear them, that America has a long history of hypersexualizing Asian women. These words – at their core – dehumanize Asian women, and as we have seen, lead to violence.

Over the past few weeks, there’s been discourse about the mass shooting in Atlanta. We need to pause and remember that the victims, like us, were human. These women killed in Atlanta had husbands, children, siblings, parents, and communities that they were taken away from, senselessly, based solely on their outward appearance. Whether or not this act was perpetrated by someone with a sexual addiction doesn’t matter. What happened is rooted in the systemic racism that has stereotyped Asian women as sexual objects. The perpetrator targeted a group of people because of the systemic racism ingrained in him, plain and simple.

Everybody, no matter how evolved one’s thinking, is influenced by words. You don’t have to have mental illness or malicious intent to fall for propaganda – that’s what makes it so scary, it works so well. Even among my own friends and family, some of the most compassionate people I know, I’ve heard disparaging remarks against Chinese people, from other Asians, repeating the same rhetoric they’ve seen in American newspapers and Asian media outlets, echoing the former president’s coronavirus references to the “Chinese virus.”

But what makes something systemic? What feeds this virus of hate and gives these practices their longevity? Pointing out problems doesn’t make them go away; we have to cultivate conversation based around solutions. And that’s our next step. What can we do to make a positive impact?

Words have affected my life, and my words have given me power. I encourage others to engage in activities where they too can feel empowered. Since the beginning of the pandemic, I’ve leveraged my leadership position with the American Psychiatric Association’s Caucus of Asian American Psychiatrists and used my words to promote advocacy. I’ve also used my voice to raise national attention to the anti-Asian hate activities. Motivated by my own desire to seek a supportive space with others to reflect on our racial identities, I’ve also launched various free support groups for Asian American and Pacific Islanders (AAPI) professionals and health care providers. I want to feel a sense of connection with others who share my experiences, as I never underestimate the phenomenal force of comforting words from a healing community.

Clinicians need their own space for processing, too. It is vitally important for us to take care of ourselves, because our patients’ words can affect our own mental health. My colleagues are shocked by the amount of AAPI patients who are reaching out to them for care. Most of them have not worked with AAPI patients before, because so many people of AAPI descent do not often seek treatment. Many of our patients are dealing with anxiety surrounding their own health and wellness, coupled with financial uncertainties and social unrest. In particular, AAPI clinicians may start to experience bystander trauma, because, for the first time, they are thinking: “It could have been me.” AAPI clinicians are in a unique situation where they have the extra burden of providing a safe space for processing clients’ trauma while also processing their own. We may have experiences of discrimination or racially motivated assaults and can reexperience this trauma through our work. Before we can help others, we have to do a self-check and reflect on how we are doing and seek our own support.

If you are able to take care of yourself and feel empowered to make a difference, there are many ways to help fight against anti-Asian sentiment, both on a personal and more global scale.

We have to check our biases and those of our family, friends, and colleagues. Everyone, even mental health professionals, has biases and is affected by disinformation. We have to dig deep into our own unconscious biases, reflect on them, and commit to changing the biases around us. Do we, or our families, have unconscious biases against a particular minority group? If so, discuss it. No one is to blame. This is systemic, and no one is at fault. White men are not to be vilified. Conservative Republicans are not our enemy. Each of us is human, with our own flaws that can influence our own conscious and unconscious thoughts and actions. Let’s discuss racial issues with our family and friends. Whenever someone says something hateful or discriminatory toward another ethnic group or racial background, we have to call it out, and help them realize their biases and change them.

If you are able, use your words to write to your elected representatives. Send them a short email, no need to be fancy. For example, you can send a note of support for legislation that is similar to the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act, which passed the Senate on Thursday, April 22, with 94:1 bipartisan support. This kind of legislation is a step in the right direction, but there is still more we must do to stop anti-Asian biases and hate. There is empowerment and healing through making your own voice heard. I hope that these tragic incidents will lead to impactful policy changes.

The next step in this journey of empowerment is speaking about your lived experiences publicly and promoting the voices of others. I dedicated a section of my social media platforms to amplifying Asian voices, sharing news, and updating my hashtags to support the #StopAsianHate movement. I made it a point to form relationships with other advocates, AAPI mental health professionals and those personally affected by anti-Asian hate. Speaking up and speaking out didn’t take away my worries, but it did remind me that I’m powerful and that I am not alone. I can take action and demand action. I do not have to hide in the shadows but can stand in the light, using my voice like a megaphone to call out injustice and intolerance.

I hope that, for AAPI clinicians who may be affected by these current events, this validates your experiences. You are not alone. This is a reminder to treat yourself with empathy as you would your patients. For others, I hope this helps you to learn the plight of many AAPI community members in this country. Together, we can use words to create better neighborhoods, a better country, and safe spaces for all communities, especially the marginalized. As we know, words matter.

Dr. Vo is a board-certified psychiatrist and is the medical director of telehealth for the department of child and adolescent psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. She is also a faculty member at the University of Pennsylvania, also in Philadelphia. Dr. Vo conducts digital health research focused on using automation and artificial intelligence for suicide risk screening and connecting patients to mental health care services. She disclosed serving as cofounder of telemental health software, Orchid, that eliminates burdensome administrative tasks so that clinicians can focus on their patients and have time for their loved ones.
 

Words matter. So, hear me when I say: I am Asian. I am American. I am a woman. I am not COVID-19. I did not create this virus. I did not place it in my pocket and bring it to the world, sprinkling it like pixie dust, along each path I’ve crossed.

My words create a story, and not just those of one psychiatrist reaching out to others. It’s the story of how the powerful use of words throughout my life inflicted racism upon me, even when unacknowledged by my conscious self. I share my story to let you know you are not alone in your journey of unwinding the cumulative systemic racist words and actions that might have affected your self-identification and self-love. I hope you channel that renewed sense of discovery to empower you to use your own words to create a positive impact for yourself and others – whether it is for your patients, friends, or community.

Currently, I serve as a physician and an advocate. I lead telehealth and developed software that screens for suicide risk (with support of a digital health grant). I also joined friends to develop a by-clinician, for-clinician telemental health platform.

Outside of my Hippocratic Oath, my mission, at its core, was to destigmatize mental illness through cultivating thoughtful conversations. But I am also so much more; aren’t we all? I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, and an American. I am working hard to create a life I love – the embodiment of the American Dream. If you meet me face to face, no curriculum vitae, no email, I’m Vietnamese. However, I am not the color of my skin or the shape of my eyes. I am no more defined by my lingering Vietnamese accent than I am by its Texan counterpart. Yet, throughout my life, my Vietnamese ethnicity has been a marker that others have used to define and objectify me.
 

Trauma emerges on national stage

I never thought it would happen to me, but as a resident physician, one of my most traumatic experiences of abusive power was when Donald Trump was running for president in 2016. He was using words and rhetoric that objectified women by classifying and quantifying their “attractiveness.” This culminated in a scandal surrounding a recording in which he said he would grab women by the $%&#@ ... and had been allowed to do so because he was a celebrity. That episode affected me profoundly, maybe more than most. As a child and adolescent psychiatrist, I knew the impact those words could have on future generations, and, as a woman and an aunt, I was appalled. But then, the effect turned to assault. Words matter.

I was living in New York City and as I made my nightly walk home on the Upper East Side, a man followed me. When I walked up the stairs to my building, he actually grabbed me ... by the $%&#@. He did this with the same casual manner that one might greet a coworker with a high-five. He then turned and walked away, laughing. I was overcome with shock; shocked that I could be so violated and yet thankful that he hadn’t taken any more aggressive liberties. He didn’t run away. He walked out as calmly as he had walked in, despite violating a most private piece of my femininity. And he laughed. As much as it jilted me, angered me, and made me feel demeaned and less-than, I know it’s a blessing that the story ended there; so often attacks against women end so much worse.

I questioned: “Why?” Why would this man do this to me? To anyone? I don’t know the answer, but I do know this: The things we normalize through the words we hear in the world, on the news, and at our dinner tables become action. It happened. This man didn’t skulk off into the alleyway. He didn’t hide. He laughed because he felt entitled. That’s because words matter.

My journey is paved with words that mattered. I was born in Vietnam; my family legally immigrated to the United States when I was 5 years old. Throughout grade school, I began to realize the power of spoken words, especially when I was frequently told to go back to where I came from. Questions flew at me like bullets, and whether innocent or borne of curiosity, were hurtful reminders that, through no choice of my own, I was an unwelcome foreigner. “Where are you from?” ... “No, where are you really, really from?” I felt eyes peering through me when my mother packed for me our culture’s traditional foods for lunch. “Ew, what’s that?” ... “That’s gross it smells.” How I longed for the cloak of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and blonde hair.

As I approached high school, college, and postgraduate work, the “where are you from?” questions didn’t stop but took on a new connotation, as if I were some exotic pet that men had seen walking down the street. “Ooh, what is that?” While history is riddled with the objectification of women, rarely would any woman expect to have a stranger approach her and objectify her with a statement such as: “I only date girls with breast implants.” For Asian women, however, experiencing verbal objectification has become the norm. Each approach I faced was followed by a story about Asian girlfriends of their past and a request for my phone number that felt more like a demand.

What these men probably meant as flirtation, I internalized as inescapable concerns of whether or not they had true desire to get to know me as a person. I became used to unsolicited words and attention from men who objectified me as an exotic fetish. I tried to pretend it was okay, but why? Objectifying Asian women is racism. Their words remind me, and I still hear them, that America has a long history of hypersexualizing Asian women. These words – at their core – dehumanize Asian women, and as we have seen, lead to violence.

Over the past few weeks, there’s been discourse about the mass shooting in Atlanta. We need to pause and remember that the victims, like us, were human. These women killed in Atlanta had husbands, children, siblings, parents, and communities that they were taken away from, senselessly, based solely on their outward appearance. Whether or not this act was perpetrated by someone with a sexual addiction doesn’t matter. What happened is rooted in the systemic racism that has stereotyped Asian women as sexual objects. The perpetrator targeted a group of people because of the systemic racism ingrained in him, plain and simple.

Everybody, no matter how evolved one’s thinking, is influenced by words. You don’t have to have mental illness or malicious intent to fall for propaganda – that’s what makes it so scary, it works so well. Even among my own friends and family, some of the most compassionate people I know, I’ve heard disparaging remarks against Chinese people, from other Asians, repeating the same rhetoric they’ve seen in American newspapers and Asian media outlets, echoing the former president’s coronavirus references to the “Chinese virus.”

But what makes something systemic? What feeds this virus of hate and gives these practices their longevity? Pointing out problems doesn’t make them go away; we have to cultivate conversation based around solutions. And that’s our next step. What can we do to make a positive impact?

Words have affected my life, and my words have given me power. I encourage others to engage in activities where they too can feel empowered. Since the beginning of the pandemic, I’ve leveraged my leadership position with the American Psychiatric Association’s Caucus of Asian American Psychiatrists and used my words to promote advocacy. I’ve also used my voice to raise national attention to the anti-Asian hate activities. Motivated by my own desire to seek a supportive space with others to reflect on our racial identities, I’ve also launched various free support groups for Asian American and Pacific Islanders (AAPI) professionals and health care providers. I want to feel a sense of connection with others who share my experiences, as I never underestimate the phenomenal force of comforting words from a healing community.

Clinicians need their own space for processing, too. It is vitally important for us to take care of ourselves, because our patients’ words can affect our own mental health. My colleagues are shocked by the amount of AAPI patients who are reaching out to them for care. Most of them have not worked with AAPI patients before, because so many people of AAPI descent do not often seek treatment. Many of our patients are dealing with anxiety surrounding their own health and wellness, coupled with financial uncertainties and social unrest. In particular, AAPI clinicians may start to experience bystander trauma, because, for the first time, they are thinking: “It could have been me.” AAPI clinicians are in a unique situation where they have the extra burden of providing a safe space for processing clients’ trauma while also processing their own. We may have experiences of discrimination or racially motivated assaults and can reexperience this trauma through our work. Before we can help others, we have to do a self-check and reflect on how we are doing and seek our own support.

If you are able to take care of yourself and feel empowered to make a difference, there are many ways to help fight against anti-Asian sentiment, both on a personal and more global scale.

We have to check our biases and those of our family, friends, and colleagues. Everyone, even mental health professionals, has biases and is affected by disinformation. We have to dig deep into our own unconscious biases, reflect on them, and commit to changing the biases around us. Do we, or our families, have unconscious biases against a particular minority group? If so, discuss it. No one is to blame. This is systemic, and no one is at fault. White men are not to be vilified. Conservative Republicans are not our enemy. Each of us is human, with our own flaws that can influence our own conscious and unconscious thoughts and actions. Let’s discuss racial issues with our family and friends. Whenever someone says something hateful or discriminatory toward another ethnic group or racial background, we have to call it out, and help them realize their biases and change them.

If you are able, use your words to write to your elected representatives. Send them a short email, no need to be fancy. For example, you can send a note of support for legislation that is similar to the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act, which passed the Senate on Thursday, April 22, with 94:1 bipartisan support. This kind of legislation is a step in the right direction, but there is still more we must do to stop anti-Asian biases and hate. There is empowerment and healing through making your own voice heard. I hope that these tragic incidents will lead to impactful policy changes.

The next step in this journey of empowerment is speaking about your lived experiences publicly and promoting the voices of others. I dedicated a section of my social media platforms to amplifying Asian voices, sharing news, and updating my hashtags to support the #StopAsianHate movement. I made it a point to form relationships with other advocates, AAPI mental health professionals and those personally affected by anti-Asian hate. Speaking up and speaking out didn’t take away my worries, but it did remind me that I’m powerful and that I am not alone. I can take action and demand action. I do not have to hide in the shadows but can stand in the light, using my voice like a megaphone to call out injustice and intolerance.

I hope that, for AAPI clinicians who may be affected by these current events, this validates your experiences. You are not alone. This is a reminder to treat yourself with empathy as you would your patients. For others, I hope this helps you to learn the plight of many AAPI community members in this country. Together, we can use words to create better neighborhoods, a better country, and safe spaces for all communities, especially the marginalized. As we know, words matter.

Dr. Vo is a board-certified psychiatrist and is the medical director of telehealth for the department of child and adolescent psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. She is also a faculty member at the University of Pennsylvania, also in Philadelphia. Dr. Vo conducts digital health research focused on using automation and artificial intelligence for suicide risk screening and connecting patients to mental health care services. She disclosed serving as cofounder of telemental health software, Orchid, that eliminates burdensome administrative tasks so that clinicians can focus on their patients and have time for their loved ones.
 

One of the top stories in the local newspaper recently described an unfortunate incident in which a previously healthy 19-month-old baby was found unresponsive and apneic in a crib at her day-care center. She was successfully resuscitated by the daycare provider but is now blind, has seizures, and no longer walks or talks. According to the day care owner, the child had not settled down during rest time and her talking was preventing the other children from sleeping. This apparently had happened before and the day-care provider had successfully resorted to triple wrapping the child in a blanket and placing her in a crib in a separate room. The day-care provider had checked on the child once and noted she was snoring. When the child failed to wake after the expected interval of time she was found face down with her head partially covered by a pillow.

An investigation of the day-care center is ongoing and no reports or prior violations, warnings, or license suspensions have surfaced at this point. The day-care provider has been charged with aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child. The charges could carry a prison sentence of 30 years.

As I reread this very sad story I began wondering how this tragedy is going to unfold in the next months and years. We can assume one young life has already been permanently damaged. Her family will have to deal with the consequences of this event for decades or longer. What about the day-care provider? I hope we can assume that she intended no harm to the child nor had she ignored prior warnings or training about swaddling. Nor does this lapse in judgment fit a previous pattern of behavior. Regardless of what the courts decide she will carry some degree of guilt for the foreseeable future. The day-care center has been closed voluntarily and given that Maine is a small state where word travels fast it is unlikely that it will ever reopen.

Can we imagine any good coming out of this tragedy? It may be that with luck and diligent therapies that the little girl will be able to lead a life she finds rewarding and gives others some pleasure. It is possible that some individuals involved in her life – her parents or therapists – will find the devotion to her care brings new meaning to their lives.

Will the day-care provider find a new career or a cause that can help her restore some of the self worth she may have lost in the wake of the event? Or, will a protracted course through the legal system take its devastating toll on her life and marriage? It is unlikely that she will spend anywhere near 30 years in prison, if any at all. Will the child’s family sue this small family day-care center? It is hard to imagine they will recover anything more than a tiny fraction of the lifetime costs of this child’s care.

It is also unlikely that the message that swaddling children old enough to turn over carries a significant risk will go beyond one or two more stories in the local Maine newspapers. If this child’s father had been a professional football player or her mother had been an actress or U.S. Senator this tragic turn of events could possibly have stirred enough waters to grab national attention, spawn a foundation, or even result in legislation. But, she appears to come from a family with modest means without claims to notoriety. There is no flawed product to ban. She is a victim of ignorance and our failure to educate. As a result, her tragedy and those of thousands of other children will do little more than accumulate as unfortunate statistics.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

One of the top stories in the local newspaper recently described an unfortunate incident in which a previously healthy 19-month-old baby was found unresponsive and apneic in a crib at her day-care center. She was successfully resuscitated by the daycare provider but is now blind, has seizures, and no longer walks or talks. According to the day care owner, the child had not settled down during rest time and her talking was preventing the other children from sleeping. This apparently had happened before and the day-care provider had successfully resorted to triple wrapping the child in a blanket and placing her in a crib in a separate room. The day-care provider had checked on the child once and noted she was snoring. When the child failed to wake after the expected interval of time she was found face down with her head partially covered by a pillow.

An investigation of the day-care center is ongoing and no reports or prior violations, warnings, or license suspensions have surfaced at this point. The day-care provider has been charged with aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child. The charges could carry a prison sentence of 30 years.

As I reread this very sad story I began wondering how this tragedy is going to unfold in the next months and years. We can assume one young life has already been permanently damaged. Her family will have to deal with the consequences of this event for decades or longer. What about the day-care provider? I hope we can assume that she intended no harm to the child nor had she ignored prior warnings or training about swaddling. Nor does this lapse in judgment fit a previous pattern of behavior. Regardless of what the courts decide she will carry some degree of guilt for the foreseeable future. The day-care center has been closed voluntarily and given that Maine is a small state where word travels fast it is unlikely that it will ever reopen.

Can we imagine any good coming out of this tragedy? It may be that with luck and diligent therapies that the little girl will be able to lead a life she finds rewarding and gives others some pleasure. It is possible that some individuals involved in her life – her parents or therapists – will find the devotion to her care brings new meaning to their lives.

Will the day-care provider find a new career or a cause that can help her restore some of the self worth she may have lost in the wake of the event? Or, will a protracted course through the legal system take its devastating toll on her life and marriage? It is unlikely that she will spend anywhere near 30 years in prison, if any at all. Will the child’s family sue this small family day-care center? It is hard to imagine they will recover anything more than a tiny fraction of the lifetime costs of this child’s care.

It is also unlikely that the message that swaddling children old enough to turn over carries a significant risk will go beyond one or two more stories in the local Maine newspapers. If this child’s father had been a professional football player or her mother had been an actress or U.S. Senator this tragic turn of events could possibly have stirred enough waters to grab national attention, spawn a foundation, or even result in legislation. But, she appears to come from a family with modest means without claims to notoriety. There is no flawed product to ban. She is a victim of ignorance and our failure to educate. As a result, her tragedy and those of thousands of other children will do little more than accumulate as unfortunate statistics.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

One of the top stories in the local newspaper recently described an unfortunate incident in which a previously healthy 19-month-old baby was found unresponsive and apneic in a crib at her day-care center. She was successfully resuscitated by the daycare provider but is now blind, has seizures, and no longer walks or talks. According to the day care owner, the child had not settled down during rest time and her talking was preventing the other children from sleeping. This apparently had happened before and the day-care provider had successfully resorted to triple wrapping the child in a blanket and placing her in a crib in a separate room. The day-care provider had checked on the child once and noted she was snoring. When the child failed to wake after the expected interval of time she was found face down with her head partially covered by a pillow.

An investigation of the day-care center is ongoing and no reports or prior violations, warnings, or license suspensions have surfaced at this point. The day-care provider has been charged with aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child. The charges could carry a prison sentence of 30 years.

As I reread this very sad story I began wondering how this tragedy is going to unfold in the next months and years. We can assume one young life has already been permanently damaged. Her family will have to deal with the consequences of this event for decades or longer. What about the day-care provider? I hope we can assume that she intended no harm to the child nor had she ignored prior warnings or training about swaddling. Nor does this lapse in judgment fit a previous pattern of behavior. Regardless of what the courts decide she will carry some degree of guilt for the foreseeable future. The day-care center has been closed voluntarily and given that Maine is a small state where word travels fast it is unlikely that it will ever reopen.

Can we imagine any good coming out of this tragedy? It may be that with luck and diligent therapies that the little girl will be able to lead a life she finds rewarding and gives others some pleasure. It is possible that some individuals involved in her life – her parents or therapists – will find the devotion to her care brings new meaning to their lives.

Will the day-care provider find a new career or a cause that can help her restore some of the self worth she may have lost in the wake of the event? Or, will a protracted course through the legal system take its devastating toll on her life and marriage? It is unlikely that she will spend anywhere near 30 years in prison, if any at all. Will the child’s family sue this small family day-care center? It is hard to imagine they will recover anything more than a tiny fraction of the lifetime costs of this child’s care.

It is also unlikely that the message that swaddling children old enough to turn over carries a significant risk will go beyond one or two more stories in the local Maine newspapers. If this child’s father had been a professional football player or her mother had been an actress or U.S. Senator this tragic turn of events could possibly have stirred enough waters to grab national attention, spawn a foundation, or even result in legislation. But, she appears to come from a family with modest means without claims to notoriety. There is no flawed product to ban. She is a victim of ignorance and our failure to educate. As a result, her tragedy and those of thousands of other children will do little more than accumulate as unfortunate statistics.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

It’s pretty clear that, at least globally, we have not reached a steady state with the SARS-COV-2 virus. And here in the United States we should remain concerned that if we can’t convince our vaccine-hesitant population to step forward for their shots, this country may slide back into dangerous instability. Despite these uncertainties, it may be time to polish up the old retrospectoscope again and see what the last year and a half has taught us.

Although it took us too long to discover the reality, it is now pretty clear that the virus is spread in the air and by close personal contact, especially indoors. There continues to be some misplaced over-attention to surface cleaning, but for the most part, the bulk of the population seems to have finally gotten the picture. We are of course still plagued by our own impatience and the unfortunate mix of politics and the disagreement about how personal freedom and the common good can coexist.

A year ago, while we were still on the steep part of the learning curve and the specter of the unknown hung over us like a dark cloud, schools and colleges faced a myriad of challenges as they considered how to safely educate their students. Faced with a relative vacuum in leadership from the federal government, school boards and college administrators were left to interpret the trickle of information that filtered down from the media. Many turned for help to hired consultants and a variety of state and local health departments, all of whom were relying on the same information sources that were available to all of us – sources that often were neither peer reviewed nor based on hard facts. In this land that prides itself on free speech, we were all college administrators, local school board members, and parents basing our decision on the same smorgasbord of information that was frequently self-contradictory.

As I look around at the school systems and colleges with which I have some familiarity it has been interesting to observe how their responses to this hodgepodge of opinion and guesstimates have fallen into two basic categories. Some institutions seem to have been primarily motivated by risk avoidance and others appeared to have struggled to maintain their focus on how best to carry out their primary mission of educating their students.

This dichotomy is not surprising. Institutions are composed of people and people naturally self-sort themselves into pessimists and optimists. When a study is published without peer review suggesting that within schools transmission of the virus between children is unusual the optimist may use the scrap of information to support her decision to craft a hybrid system that includes an abundance of in-class experience. The pessimist will probably observe that it was only one study and instead be more concerned about the number of multi-system-inflammatory syndrome cases reported among children in New York City. He will be far less likely to abandon his all-remote learning system.

There is risk inherent in any decision-making process, including incurring a greater risk by failing to make any decision. The person whose primary focus is on avoiding any risk often shuts off the process of creative thinking and problem solving. At the end of the day, the risk avoider may have achieved his goal with a policy that includes aggressive closings but has fallen far short of his primary mission of educating students.

Here in New England there are several examples of small colleges that have managed to create more normal on-campus educational environments. To my knowledge, their experience with case numbers is no worse and may even be better than that of schools of similar size and geographic siting that chose more restrictive policies. You could argue that the less restrictive schools were just lucky. But my hunch is that the institutions that were able to put risk in perspective and remain focused on their mission were able to navigate the uncharted waters more creatively. The bottom line is that we aren’t talking about right or wrong decisions but grouped together they should provide a foundation to build on for the next turmoil.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

It’s pretty clear that, at least globally, we have not reached a steady state with the SARS-COV-2 virus. And here in the United States we should remain concerned that if we can’t convince our vaccine-hesitant population to step forward for their shots, this country may slide back into dangerous instability. Despite these uncertainties, it may be time to polish up the old retrospectoscope again and see what the last year and a half has taught us.

Although it took us too long to discover the reality, it is now pretty clear that the virus is spread in the air and by close personal contact, especially indoors. There continues to be some misplaced over-attention to surface cleaning, but for the most part, the bulk of the population seems to have finally gotten the picture. We are of course still plagued by our own impatience and the unfortunate mix of politics and the disagreement about how personal freedom and the common good can coexist.

A year ago, while we were still on the steep part of the learning curve and the specter of the unknown hung over us like a dark cloud, schools and colleges faced a myriad of challenges as they considered how to safely educate their students. Faced with a relative vacuum in leadership from the federal government, school boards and college administrators were left to interpret the trickle of information that filtered down from the media. Many turned for help to hired consultants and a variety of state and local health departments, all of whom were relying on the same information sources that were available to all of us – sources that often were neither peer reviewed nor based on hard facts. In this land that prides itself on free speech, we were all college administrators, local school board members, and parents basing our decision on the same smorgasbord of information that was frequently self-contradictory.

As I look around at the school systems and colleges with which I have some familiarity it has been interesting to observe how their responses to this hodgepodge of opinion and guesstimates have fallen into two basic categories. Some institutions seem to have been primarily motivated by risk avoidance and others appeared to have struggled to maintain their focus on how best to carry out their primary mission of educating their students.

This dichotomy is not surprising. Institutions are composed of people and people naturally self-sort themselves into pessimists and optimists. When a study is published without peer review suggesting that within schools transmission of the virus between children is unusual the optimist may use the scrap of information to support her decision to craft a hybrid system that includes an abundance of in-class experience. The pessimist will probably observe that it was only one study and instead be more concerned about the number of multi-system-inflammatory syndrome cases reported among children in New York City. He will be far less likely to abandon his all-remote learning system.

There is risk inherent in any decision-making process, including incurring a greater risk by failing to make any decision. The person whose primary focus is on avoiding any risk often shuts off the process of creative thinking and problem solving. At the end of the day, the risk avoider may have achieved his goal with a policy that includes aggressive closings but has fallen far short of his primary mission of educating students.

Here in New England there are several examples of small colleges that have managed to create more normal on-campus educational environments. To my knowledge, their experience with case numbers is no worse and may even be better than that of schools of similar size and geographic siting that chose more restrictive policies. You could argue that the less restrictive schools were just lucky. But my hunch is that the institutions that were able to put risk in perspective and remain focused on their mission were able to navigate the uncharted waters more creatively. The bottom line is that we aren’t talking about right or wrong decisions but grouped together they should provide a foundation to build on for the next turmoil.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

It’s pretty clear that, at least globally, we have not reached a steady state with the SARS-COV-2 virus. And here in the United States we should remain concerned that if we can’t convince our vaccine-hesitant population to step forward for their shots, this country may slide back into dangerous instability. Despite these uncertainties, it may be time to polish up the old retrospectoscope again and see what the last year and a half has taught us.

Although it took us too long to discover the reality, it is now pretty clear that the virus is spread in the air and by close personal contact, especially indoors. There continues to be some misplaced over-attention to surface cleaning, but for the most part, the bulk of the population seems to have finally gotten the picture. We are of course still plagued by our own impatience and the unfortunate mix of politics and the disagreement about how personal freedom and the common good can coexist.

A year ago, while we were still on the steep part of the learning curve and the specter of the unknown hung over us like a dark cloud, schools and colleges faced a myriad of challenges as they considered how to safely educate their students. Faced with a relative vacuum in leadership from the federal government, school boards and college administrators were left to interpret the trickle of information that filtered down from the media. Many turned for help to hired consultants and a variety of state and local health departments, all of whom were relying on the same information sources that were available to all of us – sources that often were neither peer reviewed nor based on hard facts. In this land that prides itself on free speech, we were all college administrators, local school board members, and parents basing our decision on the same smorgasbord of information that was frequently self-contradictory.

As I look around at the school systems and colleges with which I have some familiarity it has been interesting to observe how their responses to this hodgepodge of opinion and guesstimates have fallen into two basic categories. Some institutions seem to have been primarily motivated by risk avoidance and others appeared to have struggled to maintain their focus on how best to carry out their primary mission of educating their students.

This dichotomy is not surprising. Institutions are composed of people and people naturally self-sort themselves into pessimists and optimists. When a study is published without peer review suggesting that within schools transmission of the virus between children is unusual the optimist may use the scrap of information to support her decision to craft a hybrid system that includes an abundance of in-class experience. The pessimist will probably observe that it was only one study and instead be more concerned about the number of multi-system-inflammatory syndrome cases reported among children in New York City. He will be far less likely to abandon his all-remote learning system.

There is risk inherent in any decision-making process, including incurring a greater risk by failing to make any decision. The person whose primary focus is on avoiding any risk often shuts off the process of creative thinking and problem solving. At the end of the day, the risk avoider may have achieved his goal with a policy that includes aggressive closings but has fallen far short of his primary mission of educating students.

Here in New England there are several examples of small colleges that have managed to create more normal on-campus educational environments. To my knowledge, their experience with case numbers is no worse and may even be better than that of schools of similar size and geographic siting that chose more restrictive policies. You could argue that the less restrictive schools were just lucky. But my hunch is that the institutions that were able to put risk in perspective and remain focused on their mission were able to navigate the uncharted waters more creatively. The bottom line is that we aren’t talking about right or wrong decisions but grouped together they should provide a foundation to build on for the next turmoil.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

The COVID-19 pandemic has exposed a wave of general and mental health-related problems, such as stress, addiction, weight gain, depression, and social isolation. Those problems have been exacerbated in patients with mental illness who are already struggling to cope with personal problems.

One might expect those with agoraphobia to be adversely affected by the pandemic and experience increased feelings of anxiety. It appears that people with agoraphobia might especially feel uncertain of other people’s actions during this time. Some might perceive being alone and cut off from help, and those feelings might make them more susceptible to panic attacks.

In my (R.W.C.) clinical experience, however, my patients with agoraphobia are actually functioning better than usual throughout this challenging course.

Personalizing treatment

Agoraphobia is a type of anxiety disorder that often develops after a panic attack and involves an intense fear of a place or situation. In my 40 years of clinical experience, I have treated about 300 patients with agoraphobia, and all of them exhibit the following three symptoms: depression (from losses in life), dependency (dependent on other people to help with activities of daily living), and panic attacks (an abrupt surge of intense fear or intense discomfort that may cause a person to avoid crowded areas or other public spaces outside of the home).

To manage these clients, I individualize treatment and use different strategies for different patients to help them cope with their agoraphobia. I normally treat my agoraphobic patients with a combination of medication and therapy. I most often use a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI), and my SSRI drug of choice is usually paroxetine (Paxil). Or, instead of an SSRI, I sometimes prescribe a tricyclic antidepressant, often Tofranil (imipramine). As an adjunct, I might prescribe a benzodiazepine, Xanax (alprazolam), p.r.n. My prescription decision is based on a patient’s side effect profile, medical history, and close blood relatives’ responses to those medications.

The therapy I use is behavior modification with systematic desensitization and flooding. Desensitization is a coping technique that helps the patient overcome triggers associated with the panic attacks and anxiety. In normal times, I use both in vitro (imaginary) and in vivo (real situation) desensitization. However, during the pandemic, I can use only in vitro desensitization, since I am treating patients through phone calls and telemedicine rather than in-person visits.

I also teach my patients with agoraphobia relaxation techniques to work through their fears and anxieties, and thus to reduce feelings of stress and anxiety. The patients can practice these learned techniques on their own in an effort to reduce panic and avoidance behaviors, and create a relaxation response.
 

Treating the key symptoms

As stated earlier, all of my agoraphobic patients exhibit the following three symptoms: depression, dependency, and panic attacks.

• Depression – My agoraphobia patients are less depressed during the pandemic and are not feeling intense losses as they did prepandemic.
• Dependency – During the pandemic, everyone has been interdependent upon other people in their households. Therefore, the patients’ support systems are more readily available, and the patients can help others as much as others help them in their own households or “havens of safety.”
• Panic attacks – As depression has declined, panic attacks have also declined, since they are interrelated.

Understanding why functioning might be better

I attribute the improved functioning I am seeing to five factors:

1. Some people with agoraphobia may find that physical distancing provides relief, because it discourages situations that may trigger fear.

2. Staying in their homes can make people with agoraphobia feel like part of mainstream America, rather than outside the norm. Also, they become egosyntonic, and sense both acceptance and comfort in their homes.

3. Isolating, staying home, and avoidance behavior is now applauded and has become the norm for the entire population. Thus, people with agoraphobia might feel heightened self-esteem.

4. Since many people have been staying in for the most part, people with agoraphobia do not feel they are missing out by staying in. As a result, they are experiencing less depression.

5. Normally, leaving home, traveling, and sitting in the doctor’s office for therapy causes great anxiety for my patients with agoraphobia. Now, I treat my patients through the use of telemedicine or by phone, and thus, patients are more relaxed and calm because they do not have to leave their homes and travel to my office. Thus, patients can avoid this dreaded anxiety trigger.

It might have been logical to assume that patients living with agoraphobia would be negatively affected by the pandemic, and experience increased feelings of anxiety and/or panic attacks – since the pandemic forced those with the illness to face fearful situations from which they cannot escape.

Fortunately, my agoraphobia patients have fared very well. They have remained on their prescribed medications and have adapted well to phone and telemedicine therapy. In fact, the adjustment of my patients with agoraphobia to the stringent mitigation measures surpassed the adjustment of my other patients. These patients with agoraphobia have proved to be a strong and resilient group in the face of extreme stress.
 

Dr. Cohen, who is married to Nancy S. Cohen, is board-certified in psychiatry and has had a private practice in Philadelphia for more than 35 years. His areas of specialty include agoraphobia, sports psychiatry, depression, and substance abuse. In addition, Dr. Cohen is a former professor of psychiatry, family medicine, and otolaryngology at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia. He has no conflicts of interest. Ms. Cohen holds an MBA from Temple University in Philadelphia with a focus on health care administration. Previously, Ms. Cohen was an associate administrator at Hahnemann University Hospital and an executive at the Health Services Council, both in Philadelphia. She currently writes biographical summaries of notable 18th- and 19th-century women. Ms. Cohen has no disclosures.

The COVID-19 pandemic has exposed a wave of general and mental health-related problems, such as stress, addiction, weight gain, depression, and social isolation. Those problems have been exacerbated in patients with mental illness who are already struggling to cope with personal problems.

One might expect those with agoraphobia to be adversely affected by the pandemic and experience increased feelings of anxiety. It appears that people with agoraphobia might especially feel uncertain of other people’s actions during this time. Some might perceive being alone and cut off from help, and those feelings might make them more susceptible to panic attacks.

In my (R.W.C.) clinical experience, however, my patients with agoraphobia are actually functioning better than usual throughout this challenging course.

Personalizing treatment

Agoraphobia is a type of anxiety disorder that often develops after a panic attack and involves an intense fear of a place or situation. In my 40 years of clinical experience, I have treated about 300 patients with agoraphobia, and all of them exhibit the following three symptoms: depression (from losses in life), dependency (dependent on other people to help with activities of daily living), and panic attacks (an abrupt surge of intense fear or intense discomfort that may cause a person to avoid crowded areas or other public spaces outside of the home).

To manage these clients, I individualize treatment and use different strategies for different patients to help them cope with their agoraphobia. I normally treat my agoraphobic patients with a combination of medication and therapy. I most often use a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI), and my SSRI drug of choice is usually paroxetine (Paxil). Or, instead of an SSRI, I sometimes prescribe a tricyclic antidepressant, often Tofranil (imipramine). As an adjunct, I might prescribe a benzodiazepine, Xanax (alprazolam), p.r.n. My prescription decision is based on a patient’s side effect profile, medical history, and close blood relatives’ responses to those medications.

The therapy I use is behavior modification with systematic desensitization and flooding. Desensitization is a coping technique that helps the patient overcome triggers associated with the panic attacks and anxiety. In normal times, I use both in vitro (imaginary) and in vivo (real situation) desensitization. However, during the pandemic, I can use only in vitro desensitization, since I am treating patients through phone calls and telemedicine rather than in-person visits.

I also teach my patients with agoraphobia relaxation techniques to work through their fears and anxieties, and thus to reduce feelings of stress and anxiety. The patients can practice these learned techniques on their own in an effort to reduce panic and avoidance behaviors, and create a relaxation response.
 

Treating the key symptoms

As stated earlier, all of my agoraphobic patients exhibit the following three symptoms: depression, dependency, and panic attacks.

• Depression – My agoraphobia patients are less depressed during the pandemic and are not feeling intense losses as they did prepandemic.
• Dependency – During the pandemic, everyone has been interdependent upon other people in their households. Therefore, the patients’ support systems are more readily available, and the patients can help others as much as others help them in their own households or “havens of safety.”
• Panic attacks – As depression has declined, panic attacks have also declined, since they are interrelated.

Understanding why functioning might be better

I attribute the improved functioning I am seeing to five factors:

1. Some people with agoraphobia may find that physical distancing provides relief, because it discourages situations that may trigger fear.

2. Staying in their homes can make people with agoraphobia feel like part of mainstream America, rather than outside the norm. Also, they become egosyntonic, and sense both acceptance and comfort in their homes.

3. Isolating, staying home, and avoidance behavior is now applauded and has become the norm for the entire population. Thus, people with agoraphobia might feel heightened self-esteem.

4. Since many people have been staying in for the most part, people with agoraphobia do not feel they are missing out by staying in. As a result, they are experiencing less depression.

5. Normally, leaving home, traveling, and sitting in the doctor’s office for therapy causes great anxiety for my patients with agoraphobia. Now, I treat my patients through the use of telemedicine or by phone, and thus, patients are more relaxed and calm because they do not have to leave their homes and travel to my office. Thus, patients can avoid this dreaded anxiety trigger.

It might have been logical to assume that patients living with agoraphobia would be negatively affected by the pandemic, and experience increased feelings of anxiety and/or panic attacks – since the pandemic forced those with the illness to face fearful situations from which they cannot escape.

Fortunately, my agoraphobia patients have fared very well. They have remained on their prescribed medications and have adapted well to phone and telemedicine therapy. In fact, the adjustment of my patients with agoraphobia to the stringent mitigation measures surpassed the adjustment of my other patients. These patients with agoraphobia have proved to be a strong and resilient group in the face of extreme stress.
 

Dr. Cohen, who is married to Nancy S. Cohen, is board-certified in psychiatry and has had a private practice in Philadelphia for more than 35 years. His areas of specialty include agoraphobia, sports psychiatry, depression, and substance abuse. In addition, Dr. Cohen is a former professor of psychiatry, family medicine, and otolaryngology at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia. He has no conflicts of interest. Ms. Cohen holds an MBA from Temple University in Philadelphia with a focus on health care administration. Previously, Ms. Cohen was an associate administrator at Hahnemann University Hospital and an executive at the Health Services Council, both in Philadelphia. She currently writes biographical summaries of notable 18th- and 19th-century women. Ms. Cohen has no disclosures.

The COVID-19 pandemic has exposed a wave of general and mental health-related problems, such as stress, addiction, weight gain, depression, and social isolation. Those problems have been exacerbated in patients with mental illness who are already struggling to cope with personal problems.

One might expect those with agoraphobia to be adversely affected by the pandemic and experience increased feelings of anxiety. It appears that people with agoraphobia might especially feel uncertain of other people’s actions during this time. Some might perceive being alone and cut off from help, and those feelings might make them more susceptible to panic attacks.

In my (R.W.C.) clinical experience, however, my patients with agoraphobia are actually functioning better than usual throughout this challenging course.

Personalizing treatment

Agoraphobia is a type of anxiety disorder that often develops after a panic attack and involves an intense fear of a place or situation. In my 40 years of clinical experience, I have treated about 300 patients with agoraphobia, and all of them exhibit the following three symptoms: depression (from losses in life), dependency (dependent on other people to help with activities of daily living), and panic attacks (an abrupt surge of intense fear or intense discomfort that may cause a person to avoid crowded areas or other public spaces outside of the home).

To manage these clients, I individualize treatment and use different strategies for different patients to help them cope with their agoraphobia. I normally treat my agoraphobic patients with a combination of medication and therapy. I most often use a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI), and my SSRI drug of choice is usually paroxetine (Paxil). Or, instead of an SSRI, I sometimes prescribe a tricyclic antidepressant, often Tofranil (imipramine). As an adjunct, I might prescribe a benzodiazepine, Xanax (alprazolam), p.r.n. My prescription decision is based on a patient’s side effect profile, medical history, and close blood relatives’ responses to those medications.

The therapy I use is behavior modification with systematic desensitization and flooding. Desensitization is a coping technique that helps the patient overcome triggers associated with the panic attacks and anxiety. In normal times, I use both in vitro (imaginary) and in vivo (real situation) desensitization. However, during the pandemic, I can use only in vitro desensitization, since I am treating patients through phone calls and telemedicine rather than in-person visits.

I also teach my patients with agoraphobia relaxation techniques to work through their fears and anxieties, and thus to reduce feelings of stress and anxiety. The patients can practice these learned techniques on their own in an effort to reduce panic and avoidance behaviors, and create a relaxation response.
 

Treating the key symptoms

As stated earlier, all of my agoraphobic patients exhibit the following three symptoms: depression, dependency, and panic attacks.

• Depression – My agoraphobia patients are less depressed during the pandemic and are not feeling intense losses as they did prepandemic.
• Dependency – During the pandemic, everyone has been interdependent upon other people in their households. Therefore, the patients’ support systems are more readily available, and the patients can help others as much as others help them in their own households or “havens of safety.”
• Panic attacks – As depression has declined, panic attacks have also declined, since they are interrelated.

Understanding why functioning might be better

I attribute the improved functioning I am seeing to five factors:

1. Some people with agoraphobia may find that physical distancing provides relief, because it discourages situations that may trigger fear.

2. Staying in their homes can make people with agoraphobia feel like part of mainstream America, rather than outside the norm. Also, they become egosyntonic, and sense both acceptance and comfort in their homes.

3. Isolating, staying home, and avoidance behavior is now applauded and has become the norm for the entire population. Thus, people with agoraphobia might feel heightened self-esteem.

4. Since many people have been staying in for the most part, people with agoraphobia do not feel they are missing out by staying in. As a result, they are experiencing less depression.

5. Normally, leaving home, traveling, and sitting in the doctor’s office for therapy causes great anxiety for my patients with agoraphobia. Now, I treat my patients through the use of telemedicine or by phone, and thus, patients are more relaxed and calm because they do not have to leave their homes and travel to my office. Thus, patients can avoid this dreaded anxiety trigger.

It might have been logical to assume that patients living with agoraphobia would be negatively affected by the pandemic, and experience increased feelings of anxiety and/or panic attacks – since the pandemic forced those with the illness to face fearful situations from which they cannot escape.

Fortunately, my agoraphobia patients have fared very well. They have remained on their prescribed medications and have adapted well to phone and telemedicine therapy. In fact, the adjustment of my patients with agoraphobia to the stringent mitigation measures surpassed the adjustment of my other patients. These patients with agoraphobia have proved to be a strong and resilient group in the face of extreme stress.
 

Dr. Cohen, who is married to Nancy S. Cohen, is board-certified in psychiatry and has had a private practice in Philadelphia for more than 35 years. His areas of specialty include agoraphobia, sports psychiatry, depression, and substance abuse. In addition, Dr. Cohen is a former professor of psychiatry, family medicine, and otolaryngology at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia. He has no conflicts of interest. Ms. Cohen holds an MBA from Temple University in Philadelphia with a focus on health care administration. Previously, Ms. Cohen was an associate administrator at Hahnemann University Hospital and an executive at the Health Services Council, both in Philadelphia. She currently writes biographical summaries of notable 18th- and 19th-century women. Ms. Cohen has no disclosures.

Before COVID-19 pandemic, suicide rates were already increasing among adolescents.¹ Loneliness, because of social isolation and loss of in-person community contacts, was recognized as one factor perhaps contributing to increasing adolescent suicide.² Now, with the physical distancing measures vital to curbing the spread, the loneliness epidemic that preceded COVID-19 has only worsened, and suicidal thoughts in adolescents remain on the rise.³

Given the crucial role of interpersonal interactions and community in healthy adolescent development, these troubling trends provide insight not only into the psychosocial health of our teenagers but also into the psychosocial health of our society as a whole.

Over the past 8 months, our psychiatric crisis stabilization unit has experienced a surge in admissions for adolescents with suicidal ideation, often with accompanying attempts. Even more concerning, a significant percentage of these patients do not have additional symptoms of depression or premorbid risk factors for suicide. In many cases, there are no warning signs to alert parents of their adolescent’s imminent suicidal behavior.

Prior to COVID-19, most of our patients with suicidal ideations arrived withdrawn, irritable, and isolative. Interactions with these patients evoked poignant feelings of empathy and sadness, and these patients endorsed multiple additional symptoms consistent with criteria for a specified depressive disorder.

More recently, since COVID-19, we have observed patients who, mere hours earlier, were in an ED receiving medical interventions for a suicide attempt, now present on our unit smiling, laughing, and interacting contentedly with their peers. Upon integration into our milieu, they often report complete resolution of their suicidal thoughts. Interactions with these patients do not conjure feelings of sadness or despair. In fact, we often struggle with diagnostic specificity, because many of these patients do not meet criteria for a specified depressive disorder.

As observed in real time on our unit, meaningful interpersonal interactions are especially crucial to our adolescents’ psychosocial and emotional well-being. As their independence grows, their holding environment expands to incorporate the community. Nonparent family members, teachers, mentors, coaches, peers, parents, and most importantly, same-aged peers play a vital role in creating the environment necessary for healthy adolescent development.

The larger community is essential for adolescents to develop the skills and confidence to move into adulthood. When adolescents are lonely, with less contact with the community outside of their family, they lose the milieu in which they develop. Their fundamental psychological need of belonging becomes compromised; they fail to experience fidelity or a sense of self; and sometimes they no longer have the desire to live.

So what might the increasing suicide rate in adolescents indicate about the status of the psychosocial health of our society as a whole? Based on the vital necessity of community to support their development, adolescents are the demographic that is perhaps most susceptible to loneliness, isolation, and loss of community. Like the canary in the coal mines, this increase in suicidal ideations in our adolescent population may be a warning that our current lack of psychosocial supports have become toxic. If we cannot restore our relatedness and reconstruct our sense of community, societal psychosocial health may continue to decline.
 

References

1. National Center for Health Statistics Data Brief. 2019 Oct (352). https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/databriefs/db352-h.pdf

2. J Soc Pers Relationships. 2019 Mar 19. doi: 10.1177/0265407519836170.

3. Medscape.com. 2020 Sep 25. https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/938065.
 

Dr. Loper is the team leader for inpatient psychiatric services at Prisma Health–Midlands in Columbia, S.C. He is an assistant professor in the department of neuropsychiatry and behavioral science at the University of South Carolina, Columbia. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Kaminstein is an adjunct assistant professor at the graduate school of education and affiliated faculty in the organizational dynamics program, School of Arts and Sciences, at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. He is a social psychologist who has been studying groups and organizations for more than 40 years. He has no conflicts of interest.


 

Before COVID-19 pandemic, suicide rates were already increasing among adolescents.¹ Loneliness, because of social isolation and loss of in-person community contacts, was recognized as one factor perhaps contributing to increasing adolescent suicide.² Now, with the physical distancing measures vital to curbing the spread, the loneliness epidemic that preceded COVID-19 has only worsened, and suicidal thoughts in adolescents remain on the rise.³

Given the crucial role of interpersonal interactions and community in healthy adolescent development, these troubling trends provide insight not only into the psychosocial health of our teenagers but also into the psychosocial health of our society as a whole.

Over the past 8 months, our psychiatric crisis stabilization unit has experienced a surge in admissions for adolescents with suicidal ideation, often with accompanying attempts. Even more concerning, a significant percentage of these patients do not have additional symptoms of depression or premorbid risk factors for suicide. In many cases, there are no warning signs to alert parents of their adolescent’s imminent suicidal behavior.

Prior to COVID-19, most of our patients with suicidal ideations arrived withdrawn, irritable, and isolative. Interactions with these patients evoked poignant feelings of empathy and sadness, and these patients endorsed multiple additional symptoms consistent with criteria for a specified depressive disorder.

More recently, since COVID-19, we have observed patients who, mere hours earlier, were in an ED receiving medical interventions for a suicide attempt, now present on our unit smiling, laughing, and interacting contentedly with their peers. Upon integration into our milieu, they often report complete resolution of their suicidal thoughts. Interactions with these patients do not conjure feelings of sadness or despair. In fact, we often struggle with diagnostic specificity, because many of these patients do not meet criteria for a specified depressive disorder.

As observed in real time on our unit, meaningful interpersonal interactions are especially crucial to our adolescents’ psychosocial and emotional well-being. As their independence grows, their holding environment expands to incorporate the community. Nonparent family members, teachers, mentors, coaches, peers, parents, and most importantly, same-aged peers play a vital role in creating the environment necessary for healthy adolescent development.

The larger community is essential for adolescents to develop the skills and confidence to move into adulthood. When adolescents are lonely, with less contact with the community outside of their family, they lose the milieu in which they develop. Their fundamental psychological need of belonging becomes compromised; they fail to experience fidelity or a sense of self; and sometimes they no longer have the desire to live.

So what might the increasing suicide rate in adolescents indicate about the status of the psychosocial health of our society as a whole? Based on the vital necessity of community to support their development, adolescents are the demographic that is perhaps most susceptible to loneliness, isolation, and loss of community. Like the canary in the coal mines, this increase in suicidal ideations in our adolescent population may be a warning that our current lack of psychosocial supports have become toxic. If we cannot restore our relatedness and reconstruct our sense of community, societal psychosocial health may continue to decline.
 

References

1. National Center for Health Statistics Data Brief. 2019 Oct (352). https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/databriefs/db352-h.pdf

2. J Soc Pers Relationships. 2019 Mar 19. doi: 10.1177/0265407519836170.

3. Medscape.com. 2020 Sep 25. https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/938065.
 

Dr. Loper is the team leader for inpatient psychiatric services at Prisma Health–Midlands in Columbia, S.C. He is an assistant professor in the department of neuropsychiatry and behavioral science at the University of South Carolina, Columbia. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Kaminstein is an adjunct assistant professor at the graduate school of education and affiliated faculty in the organizational dynamics program, School of Arts and Sciences, at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. He is a social psychologist who has been studying groups and organizations for more than 40 years. He has no conflicts of interest.


 

Before COVID-19 pandemic, suicide rates were already increasing among adolescents.¹ Loneliness, because of social isolation and loss of in-person community contacts, was recognized as one factor perhaps contributing to increasing adolescent suicide.² Now, with the physical distancing measures vital to curbing the spread, the loneliness epidemic that preceded COVID-19 has only worsened, and suicidal thoughts in adolescents remain on the rise.³

Given the crucial role of interpersonal interactions and community in healthy adolescent development, these troubling trends provide insight not only into the psychosocial health of our teenagers but also into the psychosocial health of our society as a whole.

Over the past 8 months, our psychiatric crisis stabilization unit has experienced a surge in admissions for adolescents with suicidal ideation, often with accompanying attempts. Even more concerning, a significant percentage of these patients do not have additional symptoms of depression or premorbid risk factors for suicide. In many cases, there are no warning signs to alert parents of their adolescent’s imminent suicidal behavior.

Prior to COVID-19, most of our patients with suicidal ideations arrived withdrawn, irritable, and isolative. Interactions with these patients evoked poignant feelings of empathy and sadness, and these patients endorsed multiple additional symptoms consistent with criteria for a specified depressive disorder.

More recently, since COVID-19, we have observed patients who, mere hours earlier, were in an ED receiving medical interventions for a suicide attempt, now present on our unit smiling, laughing, and interacting contentedly with their peers. Upon integration into our milieu, they often report complete resolution of their suicidal thoughts. Interactions with these patients do not conjure feelings of sadness or despair. In fact, we often struggle with diagnostic specificity, because many of these patients do not meet criteria for a specified depressive disorder.

As observed in real time on our unit, meaningful interpersonal interactions are especially crucial to our adolescents’ psychosocial and emotional well-being. As their independence grows, their holding environment expands to incorporate the community. Nonparent family members, teachers, mentors, coaches, peers, parents, and most importantly, same-aged peers play a vital role in creating the environment necessary for healthy adolescent development.

The larger community is essential for adolescents to develop the skills and confidence to move into adulthood. When adolescents are lonely, with less contact with the community outside of their family, they lose the milieu in which they develop. Their fundamental psychological need of belonging becomes compromised; they fail to experience fidelity or a sense of self; and sometimes they no longer have the desire to live.

So what might the increasing suicide rate in adolescents indicate about the status of the psychosocial health of our society as a whole? Based on the vital necessity of community to support their development, adolescents are the demographic that is perhaps most susceptible to loneliness, isolation, and loss of community. Like the canary in the coal mines, this increase in suicidal ideations in our adolescent population may be a warning that our current lack of psychosocial supports have become toxic. If we cannot restore our relatedness and reconstruct our sense of community, societal psychosocial health may continue to decline.
 

References

1. National Center for Health Statistics Data Brief. 2019 Oct (352). https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/databriefs/db352-h.pdf

2. J Soc Pers Relationships. 2019 Mar 19. doi: 10.1177/0265407519836170.

3. Medscape.com. 2020 Sep 25. https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/938065.
 

Dr. Loper is the team leader for inpatient psychiatric services at Prisma Health–Midlands in Columbia, S.C. He is an assistant professor in the department of neuropsychiatry and behavioral science at the University of South Carolina, Columbia. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Kaminstein is an adjunct assistant professor at the graduate school of education and affiliated faculty in the organizational dynamics program, School of Arts and Sciences, at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. He is a social psychologist who has been studying groups and organizations for more than 40 years. He has no conflicts of interest.