Commentary

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at obnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at obnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at obnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.

zimmytws/Thinkstock

Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?

What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?

Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?

My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.

Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.

Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.

Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.

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

Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.

zimmytws/Thinkstock

Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?

What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?

Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?

My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.

Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.

Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.

Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.

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

Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.

zimmytws/Thinkstock

Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?

What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?

Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?

My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.

Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.

Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.

Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.

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

Unprecedented circumstances, extra­ordinary times, continental shift, life-altering experience—the descriptions of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic have been endless, and accurate. Every clinician who has cared for patients during these trying times has noticed new patterns in patient behavior. Psychiatrists are acutely aware of the emotional, behavioral, and cognitive methods that patients are using to protect themselves from the chaos around them, and the ways in which they process a societal catastrophe such as COVID-19 (Figure). Here are some new patterns I have noticed among my own patients.

Physical and emotional separation

I first noticed the changes in my patients’ behavior at the front desk, where they now spend less time talking with the staff. They bring their own pens for filling out the paperwork, avoid touching items around them, and try to keep social interactions brief and to the point. Patients have been more cooperative about scheduling and rescheduling their appointments. They have generally been nicer to the staff, frequently thanking us for the work we do, and verbalizing their support for health care professionals in general.

Patients have been more supportive of their family members and other patients in the clinic, with some noticeable exceptions, such as maintaining social distancing for their own comfort and safety. Some patients wear face masks not just for safety but also to separate themselves and hide their emotions from the world. This allows them to feel more emotionally secure when interacting with other people.

The use of telehealth has given many patients the security of not having to leave their home, and the decreased need for travel adds to their comfort.

Changes I didn’t expect

The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in some unexpected changes in my patients. Only a minority of my patients have expressed increased anxiety, while most have become less anxious overall on issues other than the pandemic. Many of my patients who have stressful jobs, especially teachers, say they feel more comfortable working from home and have less anxiety and depression because they are removed from their daily stressors. There also has been an increase in patients’ use of humor, including inappropriate humor, to defend against their fear of COVID-19.

Our clinic is a multidisciplinary facility that specializes in integrating mental and physical health treatments for pain, and for some patients, increased anxiety is clearly associated with an increase in pain. However, during the COVID-19 pandemic, patients have recognized this connection and verbalized their concerns. Some somatic patients have had a decrease in their physical symptoms, including chronic pain, because they see that the whole world is not well, which somehow helps to validate their concerns.

The changes in our patients’ psychological well-being will likely continue to morph as we enter a more stable period. The eventual resolution of the pandemic will bring further changes to our patients’ emotional lives. As we go through these times together, we will continue to uncover new ways that our patients will use to defend themselves against stress and adversities.

Unprecedented circumstances, extra­ordinary times, continental shift, life-altering experience—the descriptions of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic have been endless, and accurate. Every clinician who has cared for patients during these trying times has noticed new patterns in patient behavior. Psychiatrists are acutely aware of the emotional, behavioral, and cognitive methods that patients are using to protect themselves from the chaos around them, and the ways in which they process a societal catastrophe such as COVID-19 (Figure). Here are some new patterns I have noticed among my own patients.

Physical and emotional separation

I first noticed the changes in my patients’ behavior at the front desk, where they now spend less time talking with the staff. They bring their own pens for filling out the paperwork, avoid touching items around them, and try to keep social interactions brief and to the point. Patients have been more cooperative about scheduling and rescheduling their appointments. They have generally been nicer to the staff, frequently thanking us for the work we do, and verbalizing their support for health care professionals in general.

Patients have been more supportive of their family members and other patients in the clinic, with some noticeable exceptions, such as maintaining social distancing for their own comfort and safety. Some patients wear face masks not just for safety but also to separate themselves and hide their emotions from the world. This allows them to feel more emotionally secure when interacting with other people.

The use of telehealth has given many patients the security of not having to leave their home, and the decreased need for travel adds to their comfort.

Changes I didn’t expect

The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in some unexpected changes in my patients. Only a minority of my patients have expressed increased anxiety, while most have become less anxious overall on issues other than the pandemic. Many of my patients who have stressful jobs, especially teachers, say they feel more comfortable working from home and have less anxiety and depression because they are removed from their daily stressors. There also has been an increase in patients’ use of humor, including inappropriate humor, to defend against their fear of COVID-19.

Our clinic is a multidisciplinary facility that specializes in integrating mental and physical health treatments for pain, and for some patients, increased anxiety is clearly associated with an increase in pain. However, during the COVID-19 pandemic, patients have recognized this connection and verbalized their concerns. Some somatic patients have had a decrease in their physical symptoms, including chronic pain, because they see that the whole world is not well, which somehow helps to validate their concerns.

The changes in our patients’ psychological well-being will likely continue to morph as we enter a more stable period. The eventual resolution of the pandemic will bring further changes to our patients’ emotional lives. As we go through these times together, we will continue to uncover new ways that our patients will use to defend themselves against stress and adversities.

Unprecedented circumstances, extra­ordinary times, continental shift, life-altering experience—the descriptions of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic have been endless, and accurate. Every clinician who has cared for patients during these trying times has noticed new patterns in patient behavior. Psychiatrists are acutely aware of the emotional, behavioral, and cognitive methods that patients are using to protect themselves from the chaos around them, and the ways in which they process a societal catastrophe such as COVID-19 (Figure). Here are some new patterns I have noticed among my own patients.

Physical and emotional separation

I first noticed the changes in my patients’ behavior at the front desk, where they now spend less time talking with the staff. They bring their own pens for filling out the paperwork, avoid touching items around them, and try to keep social interactions brief and to the point. Patients have been more cooperative about scheduling and rescheduling their appointments. They have generally been nicer to the staff, frequently thanking us for the work we do, and verbalizing their support for health care professionals in general.

Patients have been more supportive of their family members and other patients in the clinic, with some noticeable exceptions, such as maintaining social distancing for their own comfort and safety. Some patients wear face masks not just for safety but also to separate themselves and hide their emotions from the world. This allows them to feel more emotionally secure when interacting with other people.

The use of telehealth has given many patients the security of not having to leave their home, and the decreased need for travel adds to their comfort.

Changes I didn’t expect

The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in some unexpected changes in my patients. Only a minority of my patients have expressed increased anxiety, while most have become less anxious overall on issues other than the pandemic. Many of my patients who have stressful jobs, especially teachers, say they feel more comfortable working from home and have less anxiety and depression because they are removed from their daily stressors. There also has been an increase in patients’ use of humor, including inappropriate humor, to defend against their fear of COVID-19.

Our clinic is a multidisciplinary facility that specializes in integrating mental and physical health treatments for pain, and for some patients, increased anxiety is clearly associated with an increase in pain. However, during the COVID-19 pandemic, patients have recognized this connection and verbalized their concerns. Some somatic patients have had a decrease in their physical symptoms, including chronic pain, because they see that the whole world is not well, which somehow helps to validate their concerns.

The changes in our patients’ psychological well-being will likely continue to morph as we enter a more stable period. The eventual resolution of the pandemic will bring further changes to our patients’ emotional lives. As we go through these times together, we will continue to uncover new ways that our patients will use to defend themselves against stress and adversities.

There is apparently some debate about which of our ancestors was the first to use tools. It probably was Homo habilis, the “handy man.” But it could have been a relative of Lucy, of the Australopithecus afarensis tribe. Regardless of which pile of chipped rocks looks more tool-like to you, it is generally agreed that our ability to make and use tools is one of the key ingredients to our evolutionary success.

MichaelJung/Thinkstock

I have always enjoyed the feel of good quality knife when I am woodcarving, and the tool collection hanging on the wall over my work bench is one of my most prized possessions. But when I was practicing general pediatrics, I could never really warm up to the screening tools that were being touted as must-haves for detecting developmental delays.

It turns out I was not alone. A recent study published in Pediatrics found that the number of pediatricians who reported using developmental screening tools increased from 21% to 63% between 2002 and 2016. (Pediatrics. 2020 Apr. doi: 10.1542/peds.2019-0851). However, this means that, despite a significant increase in usage, more than a third of pediatricians still are not employing screening tools. Does this suggest that one out of every three pediatricians, including me and maybe you, is a knuckle-dragging pre–Homo sapiens practicing in blissful and clueless ignorance?

Mei Elansary MD, MPhil, and Michael Silverstein, MD, MPH, who wrote a companion commentary in the same journal, suggested that maybe those of us who have resisted the call to be tool users aren’t prehistoric ignoramuses (Pediatrics. 2020 Apr. doi: 10.1542/peds.2020-0164). They observed that, regardless of whether the pediatricians were using screening tools, more than 40% of the those surveyed did not refer patients for early intervention.

The commentators pointed out that the decision of when, whom, and how to screen must be viewed as part of a “complicated web of changing epidemiology, time and reimbursement constraints, and service availability.” They observe that pediatricians facing this landscape in upheaval “default to what they know best: clinical judgment.” Citing one study of the management of febrile infants, the authors point out that relying on guidelines doesn’t always result in improved clinical care.

My decision of when to refer a patient for early intervention was based on what I had observed over a series of visits and whether I thought that the early intervention resources available in my community would have a significant benefit for any particular child. Because I crafted my practice around a model that put a strong emphasis on continuity, my patients almost never saw another provider for a health maintenance visit and usually saw me for their sick visits, including ear rechecks.

I guess you could argue that there are situations in which seeing a variety of providers, each with a slightly different perspective, might benefit the patient. But when we are talking about a domain like development that is defined by change, or lack of change, over time, multiple observations by a single observer usually can be more valuable.

If I were practicing in a situation in which I didn’t have the luxury of continuity, I think I would be more likely to use a screening tool. Although I have found screening guidelines can be helpful as mnemonics in some situations, they aren’t equally applicable in all clinical settings.

While I may be asking for trouble by questioning anything even remotely related to the concept of early intervention, I must say that I wholeheartedly agree with Dr. Elansary and Dr. Silverstein when they wrote “the pediatrics community may have something to learn from the significant minority of pediatricians who do not practice formalized screening.”
 

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

There is apparently some debate about which of our ancestors was the first to use tools. It probably was Homo habilis, the “handy man.” But it could have been a relative of Lucy, of the Australopithecus afarensis tribe. Regardless of which pile of chipped rocks looks more tool-like to you, it is generally agreed that our ability to make and use tools is one of the key ingredients to our evolutionary success.

MichaelJung/Thinkstock

I have always enjoyed the feel of good quality knife when I am woodcarving, and the tool collection hanging on the wall over my work bench is one of my most prized possessions. But when I was practicing general pediatrics, I could never really warm up to the screening tools that were being touted as must-haves for detecting developmental delays.

It turns out I was not alone. A recent study published in Pediatrics found that the number of pediatricians who reported using developmental screening tools increased from 21% to 63% between 2002 and 2016. (Pediatrics. 2020 Apr. doi: 10.1542/peds.2019-0851). However, this means that, despite a significant increase in usage, more than a third of pediatricians still are not employing screening tools. Does this suggest that one out of every three pediatricians, including me and maybe you, is a knuckle-dragging pre–Homo sapiens practicing in blissful and clueless ignorance?

Mei Elansary MD, MPhil, and Michael Silverstein, MD, MPH, who wrote a companion commentary in the same journal, suggested that maybe those of us who have resisted the call to be tool users aren’t prehistoric ignoramuses (Pediatrics. 2020 Apr. doi: 10.1542/peds.2020-0164). They observed that, regardless of whether the pediatricians were using screening tools, more than 40% of the those surveyed did not refer patients for early intervention.

The commentators pointed out that the decision of when, whom, and how to screen must be viewed as part of a “complicated web of changing epidemiology, time and reimbursement constraints, and service availability.” They observe that pediatricians facing this landscape in upheaval “default to what they know best: clinical judgment.” Citing one study of the management of febrile infants, the authors point out that relying on guidelines doesn’t always result in improved clinical care.

My decision of when to refer a patient for early intervention was based on what I had observed over a series of visits and whether I thought that the early intervention resources available in my community would have a significant benefit for any particular child. Because I crafted my practice around a model that put a strong emphasis on continuity, my patients almost never saw another provider for a health maintenance visit and usually saw me for their sick visits, including ear rechecks.

I guess you could argue that there are situations in which seeing a variety of providers, each with a slightly different perspective, might benefit the patient. But when we are talking about a domain like development that is defined by change, or lack of change, over time, multiple observations by a single observer usually can be more valuable.

If I were practicing in a situation in which I didn’t have the luxury of continuity, I think I would be more likely to use a screening tool. Although I have found screening guidelines can be helpful as mnemonics in some situations, they aren’t equally applicable in all clinical settings.

While I may be asking for trouble by questioning anything even remotely related to the concept of early intervention, I must say that I wholeheartedly agree with Dr. Elansary and Dr. Silverstein when they wrote “the pediatrics community may have something to learn from the significant minority of pediatricians who do not practice formalized screening.”
 

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

There is apparently some debate about which of our ancestors was the first to use tools. It probably was Homo habilis, the “handy man.” But it could have been a relative of Lucy, of the Australopithecus afarensis tribe. Regardless of which pile of chipped rocks looks more tool-like to you, it is generally agreed that our ability to make and use tools is one of the key ingredients to our evolutionary success.

MichaelJung/Thinkstock

I have always enjoyed the feel of good quality knife when I am woodcarving, and the tool collection hanging on the wall over my work bench is one of my most prized possessions. But when I was practicing general pediatrics, I could never really warm up to the screening tools that were being touted as must-haves for detecting developmental delays.

It turns out I was not alone. A recent study published in Pediatrics found that the number of pediatricians who reported using developmental screening tools increased from 21% to 63% between 2002 and 2016. (Pediatrics. 2020 Apr. doi: 10.1542/peds.2019-0851). However, this means that, despite a significant increase in usage, more than a third of pediatricians still are not employing screening tools. Does this suggest that one out of every three pediatricians, including me and maybe you, is a knuckle-dragging pre–Homo sapiens practicing in blissful and clueless ignorance?

Mei Elansary MD, MPhil, and Michael Silverstein, MD, MPH, who wrote a companion commentary in the same journal, suggested that maybe those of us who have resisted the call to be tool users aren’t prehistoric ignoramuses (Pediatrics. 2020 Apr. doi: 10.1542/peds.2020-0164). They observed that, regardless of whether the pediatricians were using screening tools, more than 40% of the those surveyed did not refer patients for early intervention.

The commentators pointed out that the decision of when, whom, and how to screen must be viewed as part of a “complicated web of changing epidemiology, time and reimbursement constraints, and service availability.” They observe that pediatricians facing this landscape in upheaval “default to what they know best: clinical judgment.” Citing one study of the management of febrile infants, the authors point out that relying on guidelines doesn’t always result in improved clinical care.

My decision of when to refer a patient for early intervention was based on what I had observed over a series of visits and whether I thought that the early intervention resources available in my community would have a significant benefit for any particular child. Because I crafted my practice around a model that put a strong emphasis on continuity, my patients almost never saw another provider for a health maintenance visit and usually saw me for their sick visits, including ear rechecks.

I guess you could argue that there are situations in which seeing a variety of providers, each with a slightly different perspective, might benefit the patient. But when we are talking about a domain like development that is defined by change, or lack of change, over time, multiple observations by a single observer usually can be more valuable.

If I were practicing in a situation in which I didn’t have the luxury of continuity, I think I would be more likely to use a screening tool. Although I have found screening guidelines can be helpful as mnemonics in some situations, they aren’t equally applicable in all clinical settings.

While I may be asking for trouble by questioning anything even remotely related to the concept of early intervention, I must say that I wholeheartedly agree with Dr. Elansary and Dr. Silverstein when they wrote “the pediatrics community may have something to learn from the significant minority of pediatricians who do not practice formalized screening.”
 

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

Psychiatry has been historically plagued by absurd misnomers. It started with the laughable “mental hygiene,” coined by William Sweetser, MD, in 1843, 1 year before the original 13 members of the Association of Medical Superintendents of American Institutions for the Insane established what in 1921 was renamed the American Psychiatric Association. Mental hygiene evokes an image of psychiatrists scrubbing the brains of mentally ill patients with soap and water! That term was neither medically nor scientifically appropriate, but it stuck for decades.

Enter “mental health.” In 1949, the National Institute of Mental Health was established. It is the 5th oldest of the 27 Institutes and Centers of the National Institutes of Health. Then, in 1963, Congress passed the Community Mental Health Act, which established Community Mental Health Centers around the country. It is perplexing that the term “health” was used instead of “illness,” when psychiatry is a medical specialty that treats mental disorders. Health is certainly the goal of all medical specialties, but cardiology was never called “heart health,” neurology was never called “brain health,” and pediatrics was never called “children’s health.” Like all its sister medical specialties, psychiatry treats disease and syndromes, but somehow, it has been transmogrified into “mental health.” Perhaps it was meant to be a euphemism to disguise and avert the unfortunate stigma associated with mental illness back during the institutionalization era.

The advent of ‘behavioral health’

Then suddenly, the term “behavioral health” was coined and began to be used as a substitute for psychiatry, further distorting psychiatry’s medical identity. Behavioral health is completely different from psychiatry. It refers to healthy behaviors that people should uphold throughout their lives to maintain their overall health and well-being, including eating a balanced diet, exercising regularly, avoiding tobacco and drugs of abuse, practicing safe sex, and establishing meaningful social relationships. So behavioral health promotes a healthy lifestyle, and that could very aptly apply to cardiology, pulmonology, nephrology, or hepatology, where good nutrition and avoiding weight gain, smoking, and sedentary living can reduce the risk for various medical diseases and early mortality. For dermatologists, behavioral health is avoiding sunburn, and for dentists, it is regular brushing and flossing.

Thus, behavioral health is a term that broadly promotes physical health and well-being, and should not be conflated with mental disorders. It is by no means synonymous with psychiatry, a medical discipline that addresses serious disorders of thought, emotions, affect, delusions, hallucinations, suicide, homicide, impulsivity, obsessions and compulsions, motivation, memory, attention, and judgment. Psychiatry is far more than behaviors that promote healthy living. Psychiatry contends with acute and chronic mental disorders, similar to other chronic medical conditions such as chronic heart, lung, gastrointestinal, or kidney diseases. Psychiatric disorders can emerge in individuals despite—and irrespective of—a healthy lifestyle promoted by behavioral health. Most psychiatric disorders have been shown to be highly genetic, and can be triggered by gene-environment interactions, even in the context of a healthful life that behavioral health advocates and fecundates.

I dislike conspiracy theories, but it is legitimate to inquire: Was there a “malicious intent” by insurance companies and managed-care entities when they abruptly replaced the medically accurate term “psychiatry” with the counterfactual “behavioral health”? Did they intend to portray psychiatry as somehow “different” from other medical specialties? Did this phraseological acrobatics facilitate and justify the carving out of psychiatric and addiction care, cursed with an anemic budget and absence of parity for persons with psychiatric brain disorders? Somehow, using behavioral health instead of psychiatry has the unfortunate connotation that patients with mental illness are “misbehaving” by not practicing healthy living, rather than being genuinely medically ill through no fault of their own. That’s a surreptitious de-medicalization of psychiatric brain disorders. It is very likely that the same companies that propagated behavioral health are the ones who came up with the demeaning term “providers,” which lumps physicians with nonphysicians, diluting the medical identify of psychiatrists, and implying a non-equivalence of psychiatric disorders with other medical conditions, which perpetuates stigma.

An erroneous epithet

We are psychiatric physicians, not “behavioral health advisors.” We are graduates of medical schools where we had clinical psychiatric experiences rotating with internal medicine, surgery, obstetrics and gynecology, and pediatrics. We did not have behavioral health rotations. And after graduating with an MD, we spent 4 additional years in psychiatric residency training, not behavioral health training, and we treated very sick patients in emergency departments and on inpatient units, not on behavioral health wards. We receive our board certification from the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology, not from a behavioral health board. As psychiatrists, we are regularly consulted on the cases of medical and surgical patients who develop psychiatric disorders, which has absolutely nothing to do with behavioral health. Our psychiatric outpatient clinics require extensive medical knowledge and psychopharmacological skills, not behavioral health.

As part of our work as physicians and psychiatrists, we do counsel patients on adopting a healthy lifestyle because many of them have comorbid medical conditions such as diabetes, hypertension, dyslipidemia, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, asthma, and kidney and gastrointestinal disorders. We practice collaborative care with primary care physicians so we can jointly manage patients’ physical and mental disorders, and help them optimize their lifestyles. Thus, behavioral health is a tiny component of what psychiatrists do, and it does not come close to defining our comprehensive medical care. Similarly, neurologists and cardiologists should not be labeled as behavior health specialties simply because they counsel their patients on how to lower the risk of strokes or heart attacks due to unhealthy lifestyles.

So, let’s call a spade a spade. Psychiatry is psychiatric medical care, not behavioral health. Let’s abandon this erroneous epithet and change the signs outside hospitals and clinics to “psychiatric medicine” facilities. I guarantee that orthopedists would not like it all if you call their specialty “bone health,” and may break your leg if you label their discipline “bone hygiene”… after washing it with soap and water, of course!

Psychiatry has been historically plagued by absurd misnomers. It started with the laughable “mental hygiene,” coined by William Sweetser, MD, in 1843, 1 year before the original 13 members of the Association of Medical Superintendents of American Institutions for the Insane established what in 1921 was renamed the American Psychiatric Association. Mental hygiene evokes an image of psychiatrists scrubbing the brains of mentally ill patients with soap and water! That term was neither medically nor scientifically appropriate, but it stuck for decades.

Enter “mental health.” In 1949, the National Institute of Mental Health was established. It is the 5th oldest of the 27 Institutes and Centers of the National Institutes of Health. Then, in 1963, Congress passed the Community Mental Health Act, which established Community Mental Health Centers around the country. It is perplexing that the term “health” was used instead of “illness,” when psychiatry is a medical specialty that treats mental disorders. Health is certainly the goal of all medical specialties, but cardiology was never called “heart health,” neurology was never called “brain health,” and pediatrics was never called “children’s health.” Like all its sister medical specialties, psychiatry treats disease and syndromes, but somehow, it has been transmogrified into “mental health.” Perhaps it was meant to be a euphemism to disguise and avert the unfortunate stigma associated with mental illness back during the institutionalization era.

The advent of ‘behavioral health’

Then suddenly, the term “behavioral health” was coined and began to be used as a substitute for psychiatry, further distorting psychiatry’s medical identity. Behavioral health is completely different from psychiatry. It refers to healthy behaviors that people should uphold throughout their lives to maintain their overall health and well-being, including eating a balanced diet, exercising regularly, avoiding tobacco and drugs of abuse, practicing safe sex, and establishing meaningful social relationships. So behavioral health promotes a healthy lifestyle, and that could very aptly apply to cardiology, pulmonology, nephrology, or hepatology, where good nutrition and avoiding weight gain, smoking, and sedentary living can reduce the risk for various medical diseases and early mortality. For dermatologists, behavioral health is avoiding sunburn, and for dentists, it is regular brushing and flossing.

Thus, behavioral health is a term that broadly promotes physical health and well-being, and should not be conflated with mental disorders. It is by no means synonymous with psychiatry, a medical discipline that addresses serious disorders of thought, emotions, affect, delusions, hallucinations, suicide, homicide, impulsivity, obsessions and compulsions, motivation, memory, attention, and judgment. Psychiatry is far more than behaviors that promote healthy living. Psychiatry contends with acute and chronic mental disorders, similar to other chronic medical conditions such as chronic heart, lung, gastrointestinal, or kidney diseases. Psychiatric disorders can emerge in individuals despite—and irrespective of—a healthy lifestyle promoted by behavioral health. Most psychiatric disorders have been shown to be highly genetic, and can be triggered by gene-environment interactions, even in the context of a healthful life that behavioral health advocates and fecundates.

I dislike conspiracy theories, but it is legitimate to inquire: Was there a “malicious intent” by insurance companies and managed-care entities when they abruptly replaced the medically accurate term “psychiatry” with the counterfactual “behavioral health”? Did they intend to portray psychiatry as somehow “different” from other medical specialties? Did this phraseological acrobatics facilitate and justify the carving out of psychiatric and addiction care, cursed with an anemic budget and absence of parity for persons with psychiatric brain disorders? Somehow, using behavioral health instead of psychiatry has the unfortunate connotation that patients with mental illness are “misbehaving” by not practicing healthy living, rather than being genuinely medically ill through no fault of their own. That’s a surreptitious de-medicalization of psychiatric brain disorders. It is very likely that the same companies that propagated behavioral health are the ones who came up with the demeaning term “providers,” which lumps physicians with nonphysicians, diluting the medical identify of psychiatrists, and implying a non-equivalence of psychiatric disorders with other medical conditions, which perpetuates stigma.

An erroneous epithet

We are psychiatric physicians, not “behavioral health advisors.” We are graduates of medical schools where we had clinical psychiatric experiences rotating with internal medicine, surgery, obstetrics and gynecology, and pediatrics. We did not have behavioral health rotations. And after graduating with an MD, we spent 4 additional years in psychiatric residency training, not behavioral health training, and we treated very sick patients in emergency departments and on inpatient units, not on behavioral health wards. We receive our board certification from the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology, not from a behavioral health board. As psychiatrists, we are regularly consulted on the cases of medical and surgical patients who develop psychiatric disorders, which has absolutely nothing to do with behavioral health. Our psychiatric outpatient clinics require extensive medical knowledge and psychopharmacological skills, not behavioral health.

As part of our work as physicians and psychiatrists, we do counsel patients on adopting a healthy lifestyle because many of them have comorbid medical conditions such as diabetes, hypertension, dyslipidemia, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, asthma, and kidney and gastrointestinal disorders. We practice collaborative care with primary care physicians so we can jointly manage patients’ physical and mental disorders, and help them optimize their lifestyles. Thus, behavioral health is a tiny component of what psychiatrists do, and it does not come close to defining our comprehensive medical care. Similarly, neurologists and cardiologists should not be labeled as behavior health specialties simply because they counsel their patients on how to lower the risk of strokes or heart attacks due to unhealthy lifestyles.

So, let’s call a spade a spade. Psychiatry is psychiatric medical care, not behavioral health. Let’s abandon this erroneous epithet and change the signs outside hospitals and clinics to “psychiatric medicine” facilities. I guarantee that orthopedists would not like it all if you call their specialty “bone health,” and may break your leg if you label their discipline “bone hygiene”… after washing it with soap and water, of course!

Psychiatry has been historically plagued by absurd misnomers. It started with the laughable “mental hygiene,” coined by William Sweetser, MD, in 1843, 1 year before the original 13 members of the Association of Medical Superintendents of American Institutions for the Insane established what in 1921 was renamed the American Psychiatric Association. Mental hygiene evokes an image of psychiatrists scrubbing the brains of mentally ill patients with soap and water! That term was neither medically nor scientifically appropriate, but it stuck for decades.

Enter “mental health.” In 1949, the National Institute of Mental Health was established. It is the 5th oldest of the 27 Institutes and Centers of the National Institutes of Health. Then, in 1963, Congress passed the Community Mental Health Act, which established Community Mental Health Centers around the country. It is perplexing that the term “health” was used instead of “illness,” when psychiatry is a medical specialty that treats mental disorders. Health is certainly the goal of all medical specialties, but cardiology was never called “heart health,” neurology was never called “brain health,” and pediatrics was never called “children’s health.” Like all its sister medical specialties, psychiatry treats disease and syndromes, but somehow, it has been transmogrified into “mental health.” Perhaps it was meant to be a euphemism to disguise and avert the unfortunate stigma associated with mental illness back during the institutionalization era.

The advent of ‘behavioral health’

Then suddenly, the term “behavioral health” was coined and began to be used as a substitute for psychiatry, further distorting psychiatry’s medical identity. Behavioral health is completely different from psychiatry. It refers to healthy behaviors that people should uphold throughout their lives to maintain their overall health and well-being, including eating a balanced diet, exercising regularly, avoiding tobacco and drugs of abuse, practicing safe sex, and establishing meaningful social relationships. So behavioral health promotes a healthy lifestyle, and that could very aptly apply to cardiology, pulmonology, nephrology, or hepatology, where good nutrition and avoiding weight gain, smoking, and sedentary living can reduce the risk for various medical diseases and early mortality. For dermatologists, behavioral health is avoiding sunburn, and for dentists, it is regular brushing and flossing.

Thus, behavioral health is a term that broadly promotes physical health and well-being, and should not be conflated with mental disorders. It is by no means synonymous with psychiatry, a medical discipline that addresses serious disorders of thought, emotions, affect, delusions, hallucinations, suicide, homicide, impulsivity, obsessions and compulsions, motivation, memory, attention, and judgment. Psychiatry is far more than behaviors that promote healthy living. Psychiatry contends with acute and chronic mental disorders, similar to other chronic medical conditions such as chronic heart, lung, gastrointestinal, or kidney diseases. Psychiatric disorders can emerge in individuals despite—and irrespective of—a healthy lifestyle promoted by behavioral health. Most psychiatric disorders have been shown to be highly genetic, and can be triggered by gene-environment interactions, even in the context of a healthful life that behavioral health advocates and fecundates.

I dislike conspiracy theories, but it is legitimate to inquire: Was there a “malicious intent” by insurance companies and managed-care entities when they abruptly replaced the medically accurate term “psychiatry” with the counterfactual “behavioral health”? Did they intend to portray psychiatry as somehow “different” from other medical specialties? Did this phraseological acrobatics facilitate and justify the carving out of psychiatric and addiction care, cursed with an anemic budget and absence of parity for persons with psychiatric brain disorders? Somehow, using behavioral health instead of psychiatry has the unfortunate connotation that patients with mental illness are “misbehaving” by not practicing healthy living, rather than being genuinely medically ill through no fault of their own. That’s a surreptitious de-medicalization of psychiatric brain disorders. It is very likely that the same companies that propagated behavioral health are the ones who came up with the demeaning term “providers,” which lumps physicians with nonphysicians, diluting the medical identify of psychiatrists, and implying a non-equivalence of psychiatric disorders with other medical conditions, which perpetuates stigma.

An erroneous epithet

We are psychiatric physicians, not “behavioral health advisors.” We are graduates of medical schools where we had clinical psychiatric experiences rotating with internal medicine, surgery, obstetrics and gynecology, and pediatrics. We did not have behavioral health rotations. And after graduating with an MD, we spent 4 additional years in psychiatric residency training, not behavioral health training, and we treated very sick patients in emergency departments and on inpatient units, not on behavioral health wards. We receive our board certification from the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology, not from a behavioral health board. As psychiatrists, we are regularly consulted on the cases of medical and surgical patients who develop psychiatric disorders, which has absolutely nothing to do with behavioral health. Our psychiatric outpatient clinics require extensive medical knowledge and psychopharmacological skills, not behavioral health.

As part of our work as physicians and psychiatrists, we do counsel patients on adopting a healthy lifestyle because many of them have comorbid medical conditions such as diabetes, hypertension, dyslipidemia, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, asthma, and kidney and gastrointestinal disorders. We practice collaborative care with primary care physicians so we can jointly manage patients’ physical and mental disorders, and help them optimize their lifestyles. Thus, behavioral health is a tiny component of what psychiatrists do, and it does not come close to defining our comprehensive medical care. Similarly, neurologists and cardiologists should not be labeled as behavior health specialties simply because they counsel their patients on how to lower the risk of strokes or heart attacks due to unhealthy lifestyles.

So, let’s call a spade a spade. Psychiatry is psychiatric medical care, not behavioral health. Let’s abandon this erroneous epithet and change the signs outside hospitals and clinics to “psychiatric medicine” facilities. I guarantee that orthopedists would not like it all if you call their specialty “bone health,” and may break your leg if you label their discipline “bone hygiene”… after washing it with soap and water, of course!

I agree with Dr. Nasrallah’s clear description of the malign nature of the pre-authorization system, as described in his editorial “Pre-authorization is illegal, unethical, and adversely disrupts patient care” (From the Editor, Current Psychiatry. April 2020, p. 5,10-11). The doctor’s job is not to improve the bottom line of insurance companies by tailoring medication choices based on cost or pill quantity.

As an example of the latter, I was recently told by a pharmacist that I needed to call the insurer to justify why a patient was going from a prescription for #30 citalopram to #45 citalopram. The request had triggered a quantity limit. The pharmacist had explained to the insurer that more pills were required because the dosage was being lowered from 40 to 30 mg/d. Because there are no 30-mg tablets available, it made most sense for the patient to take one and a half 20-mg tablets, which totals 45 pills per month.

The insurer—probably a screener, not a pharmacist—would not accept that explanation and insisted that I call them myself. I bitterly resented how casually the insurer expected busy doctors to interrupt their clinical work to comply with arbitrary micromanagement of pill quantities! I’ve seldom seen such nonsense in more than 40 years of practice.

When doctors call these insurers, they are connected to a screener, but never a pharmacist. The screener asks a series of questions prompted by a computer. We give them verbal answers, but they don’t comprehend what they input into their system. The reasons we give to the screener may not even make it into the report that the screener passes on to the staff member who makes the decision. The doctor is not told what is in the report, or who is reviewing it. So much for transparency in this era that supposedly values it!

In any case, answering all the computer-prompted questions can take a long time. And time, as we know (but they do not), is not elastic.

Serious consequences may ensue if an insurer denies coverage for the doctor’s first choice. Many patients cannot afford to pay hundreds of extra dollars out of pocket. The insurer may ask the doctor to choose a different medication. Aside from the disrespect for the doctor’s decision implied by such a request, another problem is that the patient knows the new medication is his/her doctor’s second (or third) choice. Any positive placebo effect that may have existed before has now been lost. Most doctors would be glad to have a positive placebo effect augmenting the physiologic effects of the medication, especially when the patient is already feeling helpless or hopeless. These negative feelings would likely increase when the patient feels pressured into starting a medication that they know was their doctor’s second choice.

These are just a few reasons pre-authorization is a horrid system; Dr. Nasrallah covered many others in his editorial. The system, as currently structured, needs to be eliminated.

Arthur Mode, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Falls Church, Virginia

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Hooray for...

Hooray for Dr. Nasrallah’s editorial about pre-authorization! I worry, however, that he missed some important considerations.

He writes, “The welfare of the patient is not on the insurance company’s radar screen, perhaps because it is crowded out by dollar signs.” But the welfare of the patient is exactly what is on their radar screens! If the patient dies, the insurance company profits, because it will not have to pay for treatment. This is like having a Red Sox employee manage the Yankees, except we are talking about human lives, not baseball games. Dr. Nasrallah asks (but does not answer), “How did for-profit insurance companies empower themselves to tyrannize clinical practice so that the treatment administered isn’t customized to the patient’s need but instead to fatten the profits of the insurance company?” The answer: Physicians let them. Many physicians are paid by insurers directly or through work for clinics or hospitals. He who pays the piper calls the tune. And because employers often select the insurer, patients have no say.

Honesty is most important. Pre-authorization is a dishonest term, because pre-authorization actually is pre-denial. The term pre-authorization should be replaced by “pre-denial.” It is also fraudulent when insurance companies call themselves health care companies, because they only provide insurance, not health care. Similarly, the term “evidence-based medicine” is typically only an excuse that insurers use to refuse to cover the cost of treatment. In another scenario of Dr. Nasrallah’s patient with treatment-resistant depression who responded to modafinil, what if the evidence for using this medication was based on the patient’s psychiatric history alone, without any evidence from a meta-analysis of randomized controlled trials? That would not be “evidence-based” in the dishonest world of insurance. Evidence to insurers does not include what is evident in the patient’s response to a given treatment. 

What about amnesty, especially for physicians who work in the so-called pre-authorization denial business? Some even claim to be peers (ie, the “peer to peer reviews” they conduct) and insist they cannot be on speakerphone, so that their identity is kept secret from the patient. Not all of these “physicians” are incompetent. Not all of them have criminal minds or lack empathy. Some may have had exceptional circumstances leading them to such a profession, which Dr. Nasrallah correctly notes as felonious behavior. For these physicians, I think some kind of amnesty program would be appropriate, rather than prosecution.

John Jacobs, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Manchester, New Hampshire

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: I have just finished reading...

I have just finished reading Dr. Nasrallah’s editorial about pre-author­ization. I agree with everything he said, but I do have a couple of comments:

1. Many of our colleagues do not accept insurance because their practices operate on a cash basis. This seems to obviate the problem of pre-authorization, and suggests that if we truly want to get rid of pre-authorization, we should get rid of insurance.

2. In practices that do not accept insurance, some patients may be filing their own insurance claims. Do you have any information on this approach? Are patients able to apply pressure to their insurance companies? Do patients get frustrated with their insurance companies and pay cash, rather than trying to negotiate with their insurance companies?

Katherine Hankins, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Omaha, Nebraska

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Why not address...

Why not address the underlying (and actual) cause of the “pre-authorization” scam/scandal: the private health insurance industry.

Other countries in the western world have figured out how to provide guaranteed health care to their citizens without resorting to a costly insurance industry. This parasitic business suborns 10% to 20% of the health care bill while wasting our money on withholding health care deemed “not eligible” for patients who need it. Meanwhile, the executives who manage this insurance racket are paid enormous salaries not to deliver services.

Moreover, we reap a double loss to the health care system because hospitals must employ a building full of clerks to submit (and then, when rejected, re-submit) bills for reimbursement of hospital charges.

Franz Kafka would immediately grasp the despicable workings of this self-serving scheme.

David Link, MD
Associate Professor of Pediatrics
Harvard Medical School

Boston, Massachusetts

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Dr. Nasrallah responds

 

 

Dr. Nasrallah responds

Thanks to all my colleagues who commented on (and unanimously agreed with) my editorial. It is clearly one of the most outrageous hurdles that all psychiatric practitioners face every day.

For the sake of our patients who deserve optimal medical care (laboratory tests, procedures, and medications), insurance companies must be tightly regulated to avoid second-guessing the treating clinicians, and readily cover what is prescribed. Some patients who can afford it resort to paying out of pocket for privacy reasons or for rapid access to psychiatric care, and may or may not file for insurance coverage, but they will certainly receive what their psychiatrist deems appropriate after a direct evaluation.

I hope the American Psychiatric Association and American Medical Asso­ciation will continue to forcefully pursue legislation to eliminate pre-authorization and restore some sanity to the critical process of good clinical care.

Henry A. Nasrallah, MD
Professor of Psychiatry, Neurology, and Neuroscience
Medical Director: Neuropsychiatry
Director, Schizophrenia and Neuropsychiatry Programs
University of Cincinnati College of Medicine
Cincinnati, Ohio
Professor Emeritus, Saint Louis University
St. Louis, Missouri

I agree with Dr. Nasrallah’s clear description of the malign nature of the pre-authorization system, as described in his editorial “Pre-authorization is illegal, unethical, and adversely disrupts patient care” (From the Editor, Current Psychiatry. April 2020, p. 5,10-11). The doctor’s job is not to improve the bottom line of insurance companies by tailoring medication choices based on cost or pill quantity.

As an example of the latter, I was recently told by a pharmacist that I needed to call the insurer to justify why a patient was going from a prescription for #30 citalopram to #45 citalopram. The request had triggered a quantity limit. The pharmacist had explained to the insurer that more pills were required because the dosage was being lowered from 40 to 30 mg/d. Because there are no 30-mg tablets available, it made most sense for the patient to take one and a half 20-mg tablets, which totals 45 pills per month.

The insurer—probably a screener, not a pharmacist—would not accept that explanation and insisted that I call them myself. I bitterly resented how casually the insurer expected busy doctors to interrupt their clinical work to comply with arbitrary micromanagement of pill quantities! I’ve seldom seen such nonsense in more than 40 years of practice.

When doctors call these insurers, they are connected to a screener, but never a pharmacist. The screener asks a series of questions prompted by a computer. We give them verbal answers, but they don’t comprehend what they input into their system. The reasons we give to the screener may not even make it into the report that the screener passes on to the staff member who makes the decision. The doctor is not told what is in the report, or who is reviewing it. So much for transparency in this era that supposedly values it!

In any case, answering all the computer-prompted questions can take a long time. And time, as we know (but they do not), is not elastic.

Serious consequences may ensue if an insurer denies coverage for the doctor’s first choice. Many patients cannot afford to pay hundreds of extra dollars out of pocket. The insurer may ask the doctor to choose a different medication. Aside from the disrespect for the doctor’s decision implied by such a request, another problem is that the patient knows the new medication is his/her doctor’s second (or third) choice. Any positive placebo effect that may have existed before has now been lost. Most doctors would be glad to have a positive placebo effect augmenting the physiologic effects of the medication, especially when the patient is already feeling helpless or hopeless. These negative feelings would likely increase when the patient feels pressured into starting a medication that they know was their doctor’s second choice.

These are just a few reasons pre-authorization is a horrid system; Dr. Nasrallah covered many others in his editorial. The system, as currently structured, needs to be eliminated.

Arthur Mode, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Falls Church, Virginia

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Hooray for...

Hooray for Dr. Nasrallah’s editorial about pre-authorization! I worry, however, that he missed some important considerations.

He writes, “The welfare of the patient is not on the insurance company’s radar screen, perhaps because it is crowded out by dollar signs.” But the welfare of the patient is exactly what is on their radar screens! If the patient dies, the insurance company profits, because it will not have to pay for treatment. This is like having a Red Sox employee manage the Yankees, except we are talking about human lives, not baseball games. Dr. Nasrallah asks (but does not answer), “How did for-profit insurance companies empower themselves to tyrannize clinical practice so that the treatment administered isn’t customized to the patient’s need but instead to fatten the profits of the insurance company?” The answer: Physicians let them. Many physicians are paid by insurers directly or through work for clinics or hospitals. He who pays the piper calls the tune. And because employers often select the insurer, patients have no say.

Honesty is most important. Pre-authorization is a dishonest term, because pre-authorization actually is pre-denial. The term pre-authorization should be replaced by “pre-denial.” It is also fraudulent when insurance companies call themselves health care companies, because they only provide insurance, not health care. Similarly, the term “evidence-based medicine” is typically only an excuse that insurers use to refuse to cover the cost of treatment. In another scenario of Dr. Nasrallah’s patient with treatment-resistant depression who responded to modafinil, what if the evidence for using this medication was based on the patient’s psychiatric history alone, without any evidence from a meta-analysis of randomized controlled trials? That would not be “evidence-based” in the dishonest world of insurance. Evidence to insurers does not include what is evident in the patient’s response to a given treatment. 

What about amnesty, especially for physicians who work in the so-called pre-authorization denial business? Some even claim to be peers (ie, the “peer to peer reviews” they conduct) and insist they cannot be on speakerphone, so that their identity is kept secret from the patient. Not all of these “physicians” are incompetent. Not all of them have criminal minds or lack empathy. Some may have had exceptional circumstances leading them to such a profession, which Dr. Nasrallah correctly notes as felonious behavior. For these physicians, I think some kind of amnesty program would be appropriate, rather than prosecution.

John Jacobs, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Manchester, New Hampshire

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: I have just finished reading...

I have just finished reading Dr. Nasrallah’s editorial about pre-author­ization. I agree with everything he said, but I do have a couple of comments:

1. Many of our colleagues do not accept insurance because their practices operate on a cash basis. This seems to obviate the problem of pre-authorization, and suggests that if we truly want to get rid of pre-authorization, we should get rid of insurance.

2. In practices that do not accept insurance, some patients may be filing their own insurance claims. Do you have any information on this approach? Are patients able to apply pressure to their insurance companies? Do patients get frustrated with their insurance companies and pay cash, rather than trying to negotiate with their insurance companies?

Katherine Hankins, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Omaha, Nebraska

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Why not address...

Why not address the underlying (and actual) cause of the “pre-authorization” scam/scandal: the private health insurance industry.

Other countries in the western world have figured out how to provide guaranteed health care to their citizens without resorting to a costly insurance industry. This parasitic business suborns 10% to 20% of the health care bill while wasting our money on withholding health care deemed “not eligible” for patients who need it. Meanwhile, the executives who manage this insurance racket are paid enormous salaries not to deliver services.

Moreover, we reap a double loss to the health care system because hospitals must employ a building full of clerks to submit (and then, when rejected, re-submit) bills for reimbursement of hospital charges.

Franz Kafka would immediately grasp the despicable workings of this self-serving scheme.

David Link, MD
Associate Professor of Pediatrics
Harvard Medical School

Boston, Massachusetts

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Dr. Nasrallah responds

 

 

Dr. Nasrallah responds

Thanks to all my colleagues who commented on (and unanimously agreed with) my editorial. It is clearly one of the most outrageous hurdles that all psychiatric practitioners face every day.

For the sake of our patients who deserve optimal medical care (laboratory tests, procedures, and medications), insurance companies must be tightly regulated to avoid second-guessing the treating clinicians, and readily cover what is prescribed. Some patients who can afford it resort to paying out of pocket for privacy reasons or for rapid access to psychiatric care, and may or may not file for insurance coverage, but they will certainly receive what their psychiatrist deems appropriate after a direct evaluation.

I hope the American Psychiatric Association and American Medical Asso­ciation will continue to forcefully pursue legislation to eliminate pre-authorization and restore some sanity to the critical process of good clinical care.

Henry A. Nasrallah, MD
Professor of Psychiatry, Neurology, and Neuroscience
Medical Director: Neuropsychiatry
Director, Schizophrenia and Neuropsychiatry Programs
University of Cincinnati College of Medicine
Cincinnati, Ohio
Professor Emeritus, Saint Louis University
St. Louis, Missouri

I agree with Dr. Nasrallah’s clear description of the malign nature of the pre-authorization system, as described in his editorial “Pre-authorization is illegal, unethical, and adversely disrupts patient care” (From the Editor, Current Psychiatry. April 2020, p. 5,10-11). The doctor’s job is not to improve the bottom line of insurance companies by tailoring medication choices based on cost or pill quantity.

As an example of the latter, I was recently told by a pharmacist that I needed to call the insurer to justify why a patient was going from a prescription for #30 citalopram to #45 citalopram. The request had triggered a quantity limit. The pharmacist had explained to the insurer that more pills were required because the dosage was being lowered from 40 to 30 mg/d. Because there are no 30-mg tablets available, it made most sense for the patient to take one and a half 20-mg tablets, which totals 45 pills per month.

The insurer—probably a screener, not a pharmacist—would not accept that explanation and insisted that I call them myself. I bitterly resented how casually the insurer expected busy doctors to interrupt their clinical work to comply with arbitrary micromanagement of pill quantities! I’ve seldom seen such nonsense in more than 40 years of practice.

When doctors call these insurers, they are connected to a screener, but never a pharmacist. The screener asks a series of questions prompted by a computer. We give them verbal answers, but they don’t comprehend what they input into their system. The reasons we give to the screener may not even make it into the report that the screener passes on to the staff member who makes the decision. The doctor is not told what is in the report, or who is reviewing it. So much for transparency in this era that supposedly values it!

In any case, answering all the computer-prompted questions can take a long time. And time, as we know (but they do not), is not elastic.

Serious consequences may ensue if an insurer denies coverage for the doctor’s first choice. Many patients cannot afford to pay hundreds of extra dollars out of pocket. The insurer may ask the doctor to choose a different medication. Aside from the disrespect for the doctor’s decision implied by such a request, another problem is that the patient knows the new medication is his/her doctor’s second (or third) choice. Any positive placebo effect that may have existed before has now been lost. Most doctors would be glad to have a positive placebo effect augmenting the physiologic effects of the medication, especially when the patient is already feeling helpless or hopeless. These negative feelings would likely increase when the patient feels pressured into starting a medication that they know was their doctor’s second choice.

These are just a few reasons pre-authorization is a horrid system; Dr. Nasrallah covered many others in his editorial. The system, as currently structured, needs to be eliminated.

Arthur Mode, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Falls Church, Virginia

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Hooray for...

Hooray for Dr. Nasrallah’s editorial about pre-authorization! I worry, however, that he missed some important considerations.

He writes, “The welfare of the patient is not on the insurance company’s radar screen, perhaps because it is crowded out by dollar signs.” But the welfare of the patient is exactly what is on their radar screens! If the patient dies, the insurance company profits, because it will not have to pay for treatment. This is like having a Red Sox employee manage the Yankees, except we are talking about human lives, not baseball games. Dr. Nasrallah asks (but does not answer), “How did for-profit insurance companies empower themselves to tyrannize clinical practice so that the treatment administered isn’t customized to the patient’s need but instead to fatten the profits of the insurance company?” The answer: Physicians let them. Many physicians are paid by insurers directly or through work for clinics or hospitals. He who pays the piper calls the tune. And because employers often select the insurer, patients have no say.

Honesty is most important. Pre-authorization is a dishonest term, because pre-authorization actually is pre-denial. The term pre-authorization should be replaced by “pre-denial.” It is also fraudulent when insurance companies call themselves health care companies, because they only provide insurance, not health care. Similarly, the term “evidence-based medicine” is typically only an excuse that insurers use to refuse to cover the cost of treatment. In another scenario of Dr. Nasrallah’s patient with treatment-resistant depression who responded to modafinil, what if the evidence for using this medication was based on the patient’s psychiatric history alone, without any evidence from a meta-analysis of randomized controlled trials? That would not be “evidence-based” in the dishonest world of insurance. Evidence to insurers does not include what is evident in the patient’s response to a given treatment. 

What about amnesty, especially for physicians who work in the so-called pre-authorization denial business? Some even claim to be peers (ie, the “peer to peer reviews” they conduct) and insist they cannot be on speakerphone, so that their identity is kept secret from the patient. Not all of these “physicians” are incompetent. Not all of them have criminal minds or lack empathy. Some may have had exceptional circumstances leading them to such a profession, which Dr. Nasrallah correctly notes as felonious behavior. For these physicians, I think some kind of amnesty program would be appropriate, rather than prosecution.

John Jacobs, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Manchester, New Hampshire

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: I have just finished reading...

I have just finished reading Dr. Nasrallah’s editorial about pre-author­ization. I agree with everything he said, but I do have a couple of comments:

1. Many of our colleagues do not accept insurance because their practices operate on a cash basis. This seems to obviate the problem of pre-authorization, and suggests that if we truly want to get rid of pre-authorization, we should get rid of insurance.

2. In practices that do not accept insurance, some patients may be filing their own insurance claims. Do you have any information on this approach? Are patients able to apply pressure to their insurance companies? Do patients get frustrated with their insurance companies and pay cash, rather than trying to negotiate with their insurance companies?

Katherine Hankins, MD
Private psychiatric practice
Omaha, Nebraska

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Why not address...

Why not address the underlying (and actual) cause of the “pre-authorization” scam/scandal: the private health insurance industry.

Other countries in the western world have figured out how to provide guaranteed health care to their citizens without resorting to a costly insurance industry. This parasitic business suborns 10% to 20% of the health care bill while wasting our money on withholding health care deemed “not eligible” for patients who need it. Meanwhile, the executives who manage this insurance racket are paid enormous salaries not to deliver services.

Moreover, we reap a double loss to the health care system because hospitals must employ a building full of clerks to submit (and then, when rejected, re-submit) bills for reimbursement of hospital charges.

Franz Kafka would immediately grasp the despicable workings of this self-serving scheme.

David Link, MD
Associate Professor of Pediatrics
Harvard Medical School

Boston, Massachusetts

Disclosure: The author reports no financial relationships with any companies whose products are mentioned in this article, or with manufacturers of competing products.

Continue to: Dr. Nasrallah responds

 

 

Dr. Nasrallah responds

Thanks to all my colleagues who commented on (and unanimously agreed with) my editorial. It is clearly one of the most outrageous hurdles that all psychiatric practitioners face every day.

For the sake of our patients who deserve optimal medical care (laboratory tests, procedures, and medications), insurance companies must be tightly regulated to avoid second-guessing the treating clinicians, and readily cover what is prescribed. Some patients who can afford it resort to paying out of pocket for privacy reasons or for rapid access to psychiatric care, and may or may not file for insurance coverage, but they will certainly receive what their psychiatrist deems appropriate after a direct evaluation.

I hope the American Psychiatric Association and American Medical Asso­ciation will continue to forcefully pursue legislation to eliminate pre-authorization and restore some sanity to the critical process of good clinical care.

Henry A. Nasrallah, MD
Professor of Psychiatry, Neurology, and Neuroscience
Medical Director: Neuropsychiatry
Director, Schizophrenia and Neuropsychiatry Programs
University of Cincinnati College of Medicine
Cincinnati, Ohio
Professor Emeritus, Saint Louis University
St. Louis, Missouri

Real epidemiologists are out knocking on doors, chasing down contacts, or hunched over their computers trying to make sense out of screens full of data and maps. A few are trying valiantly to talk some sense into our elected officials.

konradlew/Thinkstock

This leaves the rest of us with time on our hands to fabricate our own less-than-scientific explanations for the behavior of the SARS-CoV-2 virus. So I have decided to put on hold my current mental challenge of choosing which pasta shape to pair with the sauce I’ve prepared from an online recipe. Here is my educated guess based on what I can glean from media sources that may have been filtered through a variety politically biased lenses. Remember, I did go to medical school; however, when I was in college the DNA helix was still just theoretical.

From those halcyon days of mid-February when our attention was focused on the Diamond Princess quarantined in Yokohama Harbor, it didn’t take a board-certified epidemiologist to suspect that the virus was spreading through the ventilating system in the ship’s tight quarters. Subsequent outbreaks on U.S. and French military ships suggests a similar explanation.

While still not proven, it sounds like SARS-CoV-2 jumped to humans from bats. It should not surprise us that having evolved in a dense population of mammals it would thrive in other high-density populations such as New York and nursing homes. Because we have lacked a robust testing capability, it has been less obvious until recently that, while it is easily transmitted, the virus has infected many who are asymptomatic (“Antibody surveys suggesting vast undercount of coronavirus infections may be unreliable,” Gretchen Vogel, Science, April 21, 2020). Subsequent surveys seem to confirm this higher level carrier state; it suggests that the virus is far less deadly than was previously suggested. However, it seems to be a crafty little bug attacking just about any organ system it lands on.

I don’t think any of us are surprised that the elderly population with weakened immune systems, particularly those in congregate housing, has been much more vulnerable. However, many of the deaths among younger apparently healthy people have defied explanation. The anecdotal observations that physicians, particularly those who practice in-your-face medicine (e.g., ophthalmologists and otolaryngologists) may be more vulnerable raises the issue of viral load. It may be that, although it can be extremely contagious, the virus is not terribly dangerous for most people until the inoculum dose of the virus reaches a certain level. To my knowledge this dose is unknown.

A published survey of more than 300 outbreaks from 120 Chinese cities also may support my suspicion that viral load is of critical importance. The researchers found that all the “identified outbreaks of three or more cases occurred in an indoor environment, which confirms that sharing indoor space is a major SARS-CoV-2 infection risk” (Huan Qian et al. “Indoor transmission of SARS-CoV-2,” MedRxiv. 2020 Apr 7. doi: 10.1101/2020.04.04.20053058). Again, this data shouldn’t surprise us when we look back at what little we know about the outbreaks in the confined spaces on cruise ships and in nursing homes.

I’m not sure that we have any data that helps us determine whether wearing a mask in an outdoor space has any more than symbolic value when we are talking about this particular virus. We may read that the virus in a droplet can survive on the surface it lands on for 8 minutes, and we can see those slow motion videos of the impressive plume of snot spray released by a sneeze. It would seem obvious that even outside someone within 10 feet of the sneeze has a good chance of being infected. However, how much of a threat is the asymptomatic carrier who passes within three feet of you while you are out on lovely summer day stroll? This armchair epidemiologist suspects that, when we are talking about an outside space, the 6-foot guideline for small groups of a dozen or less is overly restrictive. But until we know, I’m staying put in my armchair ... outside on the porch overlooking Casco Bay.
 

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.” He has no disclosures. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Real epidemiologists are out knocking on doors, chasing down contacts, or hunched over their computers trying to make sense out of screens full of data and maps. A few are trying valiantly to talk some sense into our elected officials.

konradlew/Thinkstock

This leaves the rest of us with time on our hands to fabricate our own less-than-scientific explanations for the behavior of the SARS-CoV-2 virus. So I have decided to put on hold my current mental challenge of choosing which pasta shape to pair with the sauce I’ve prepared from an online recipe. Here is my educated guess based on what I can glean from media sources that may have been filtered through a variety politically biased lenses. Remember, I did go to medical school; however, when I was in college the DNA helix was still just theoretical.

From those halcyon days of mid-February when our attention was focused on the Diamond Princess quarantined in Yokohama Harbor, it didn’t take a board-certified epidemiologist to suspect that the virus was spreading through the ventilating system in the ship’s tight quarters. Subsequent outbreaks on U.S. and French military ships suggests a similar explanation.

While still not proven, it sounds like SARS-CoV-2 jumped to humans from bats. It should not surprise us that having evolved in a dense population of mammals it would thrive in other high-density populations such as New York and nursing homes. Because we have lacked a robust testing capability, it has been less obvious until recently that, while it is easily transmitted, the virus has infected many who are asymptomatic (“Antibody surveys suggesting vast undercount of coronavirus infections may be unreliable,” Gretchen Vogel, Science, April 21, 2020). Subsequent surveys seem to confirm this higher level carrier state; it suggests that the virus is far less deadly than was previously suggested. However, it seems to be a crafty little bug attacking just about any organ system it lands on.

I don’t think any of us are surprised that the elderly population with weakened immune systems, particularly those in congregate housing, has been much more vulnerable. However, many of the deaths among younger apparently healthy people have defied explanation. The anecdotal observations that physicians, particularly those who practice in-your-face medicine (e.g., ophthalmologists and otolaryngologists) may be more vulnerable raises the issue of viral load. It may be that, although it can be extremely contagious, the virus is not terribly dangerous for most people until the inoculum dose of the virus reaches a certain level. To my knowledge this dose is unknown.

A published survey of more than 300 outbreaks from 120 Chinese cities also may support my suspicion that viral load is of critical importance. The researchers found that all the “identified outbreaks of three or more cases occurred in an indoor environment, which confirms that sharing indoor space is a major SARS-CoV-2 infection risk” (Huan Qian et al. “Indoor transmission of SARS-CoV-2,” MedRxiv. 2020 Apr 7. doi: 10.1101/2020.04.04.20053058). Again, this data shouldn’t surprise us when we look back at what little we know about the outbreaks in the confined spaces on cruise ships and in nursing homes.

I’m not sure that we have any data that helps us determine whether wearing a mask in an outdoor space has any more than symbolic value when we are talking about this particular virus. We may read that the virus in a droplet can survive on the surface it lands on for 8 minutes, and we can see those slow motion videos of the impressive plume of snot spray released by a sneeze. It would seem obvious that even outside someone within 10 feet of the sneeze has a good chance of being infected. However, how much of a threat is the asymptomatic carrier who passes within three feet of you while you are out on lovely summer day stroll? This armchair epidemiologist suspects that, when we are talking about an outside space, the 6-foot guideline for small groups of a dozen or less is overly restrictive. But until we know, I’m staying put in my armchair ... outside on the porch overlooking Casco Bay.
 

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.” He has no disclosures. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Real epidemiologists are out knocking on doors, chasing down contacts, or hunched over their computers trying to make sense out of screens full of data and maps. A few are trying valiantly to talk some sense into our elected officials.

konradlew/Thinkstock

This leaves the rest of us with time on our hands to fabricate our own less-than-scientific explanations for the behavior of the SARS-CoV-2 virus. So I have decided to put on hold my current mental challenge of choosing which pasta shape to pair with the sauce I’ve prepared from an online recipe. Here is my educated guess based on what I can glean from media sources that may have been filtered through a variety politically biased lenses. Remember, I did go to medical school; however, when I was in college the DNA helix was still just theoretical.

From those halcyon days of mid-February when our attention was focused on the Diamond Princess quarantined in Yokohama Harbor, it didn’t take a board-certified epidemiologist to suspect that the virus was spreading through the ventilating system in the ship’s tight quarters. Subsequent outbreaks on U.S. and French military ships suggests a similar explanation.

While still not proven, it sounds like SARS-CoV-2 jumped to humans from bats. It should not surprise us that having evolved in a dense population of mammals it would thrive in other high-density populations such as New York and nursing homes. Because we have lacked a robust testing capability, it has been less obvious until recently that, while it is easily transmitted, the virus has infected many who are asymptomatic (“Antibody surveys suggesting vast undercount of coronavirus infections may be unreliable,” Gretchen Vogel, Science, April 21, 2020). Subsequent surveys seem to confirm this higher level carrier state; it suggests that the virus is far less deadly than was previously suggested. However, it seems to be a crafty little bug attacking just about any organ system it lands on.

I don’t think any of us are surprised that the elderly population with weakened immune systems, particularly those in congregate housing, has been much more vulnerable. However, many of the deaths among younger apparently healthy people have defied explanation. The anecdotal observations that physicians, particularly those who practice in-your-face medicine (e.g., ophthalmologists and otolaryngologists) may be more vulnerable raises the issue of viral load. It may be that, although it can be extremely contagious, the virus is not terribly dangerous for most people until the inoculum dose of the virus reaches a certain level. To my knowledge this dose is unknown.

A published survey of more than 300 outbreaks from 120 Chinese cities also may support my suspicion that viral load is of critical importance. The researchers found that all the “identified outbreaks of three or more cases occurred in an indoor environment, which confirms that sharing indoor space is a major SARS-CoV-2 infection risk” (Huan Qian et al. “Indoor transmission of SARS-CoV-2,” MedRxiv. 2020 Apr 7. doi: 10.1101/2020.04.04.20053058). Again, this data shouldn’t surprise us when we look back at what little we know about the outbreaks in the confined spaces on cruise ships and in nursing homes.

I’m not sure that we have any data that helps us determine whether wearing a mask in an outdoor space has any more than symbolic value when we are talking about this particular virus. We may read that the virus in a droplet can survive on the surface it lands on for 8 minutes, and we can see those slow motion videos of the impressive plume of snot spray released by a sneeze. It would seem obvious that even outside someone within 10 feet of the sneeze has a good chance of being infected. However, how much of a threat is the asymptomatic carrier who passes within three feet of you while you are out on lovely summer day stroll? This armchair epidemiologist suspects that, when we are talking about an outside space, the 6-foot guideline for small groups of a dozen or less is overly restrictive. But until we know, I’m staying put in my armchair ... outside on the porch overlooking Casco Bay.
 

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.” He has no disclosures. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

The US Poison Control Centers’ National Poison Data System (NPDS) publishes annual reports describing exposures to various substances among the general population.¹ Table 22B of each NPDS report shows the number of outcomes from exposures to different pharmacologic treatments in the United States, including psychotropic medications.² In this Table, the relative morbidity (RM) of a medication is calculated as the ratio of serious outcomes (SO) to single exposures (SE), where SO = moderate + major + death. In this article, I use the NPDS data to demonstrate how time series analysis of the RM ratios for hypertension and psychiatric medications can help predict SO associated with these agents, which may help guide clinicians’ prescribing decisions.^2,3

Time series analysis of hypertension medications

Due to the high prevalence of hypertension, it is not surprising that more suicide deaths occur each year from calcium channel blockers (CCB) than from lithium (37 vs 2, according to 2017 NPDS data).³ I used time series analysis to compare SO during 2006-2017 for 5 classes of hypertension medications: CCB, beta blockers (BB), angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors (ACEI), angiotensin receptor blockers (ARB), and diuretics (Figure 1).

Time series analysis of 2006-2017 data predicted the following number of deaths for 2018: CCB ≥33, BB ≥17, ACEI ≤2, ARB 0, and diuretics ≤1. The observed deaths in 2018 were 41, 23, 0, 0, and 1, respectively.² The 2018 predicted RM were CCB 10.66%, BB 11.10%, ACEI 3.51%, ARB 2.04%, and diuretics 3.38%. The 2018 observed RM for these medications were 11.01%, 11.37%, 3.02%, 2.40%, and 2.88%, respectively.²

Because the NPDS data for hyper­tension medications was only provided by class, in order to detect differences within each class, I used the relative lethality (RL) equation: RL = 310x / LD50, where x is the maximum daily dose of a medication prescribed for 30 days, and LD50 is the rat oral lethal dose 50. The RL equation represents the ratio of a 30-day supply of medication to the human equivalent LD50 for a 60-kg person.⁴ The RL equation is useful for comparing the safety of various medications, and can help clinicians avoid prescribing a lethal amount of a given medication (Figure 2). For example, the equation shows that among CCB, felodipine is 466 times safer than verapamil and 101 times safer than diltiazem. Not surprisingly, 2006-2018 data shows many deaths via intentional verapamil or diltiazem overdose vs only 1 reference to felodipine. A regression model shows significant correlation and causality between RL and SO over time.⁵ Integrating all 3 mathematical models suggests that the higher RM of CCB and BB may be caused by the high RL of verapamil, diltiazem, nicardipine, propranolol, and labetalol.

These mathematical models can help physicians consider whether to switch the patient’s current medication to another class with a lower RM. For patients who need a BB or CCB, prescribing a medication with a lower RL within the same class may be another option. The data suggest that avoiding hypertension medications with RL >100% may significantly decrease morbidity and mortality.

Predicting serious outcomes of psychiatric medications

The 2018 NPDS data for psychiatric medications show similarly important results.² For example, the lithium RM is predictable over time (Figure 3) and has been consistently the highest among psychiatric medications. Using 2006-2017 NPDS data,³ I predicted that the 2018 lithium RM would be 41.56%. The 2018 observed lithium RM was 41.45%.² I created a linear regression model for each NPDS report from 2013 to 2018 to illustrate the correlation between RL and adjusted SO for 13 psychiatric medications.^2,3,6,7 To account for different sample sizes among medications, the lithium SE for each respective year was used for all medications (adjusted SO = SE × RM). A time series analysis of these regression models shows that SO data points hover in the same y-axis region from year to year, with a corresponding RL on the x-axis: escitalopram 6.33%, citalopram 15.50%, mirtazapine 28.47%, paroxetine 37.35%, sertraline 46.72%, fluoxetine 54.87%, venlafaxine 99.64%, duloxetine 133.33%, trazodone 269.57%, bupropion 289.42%, amitriptyline 387.50%, doxepin 632.65%, and lithium 1062.86% (Figure 4). Every year, the scatter plot shape remains approximately the same, which suggests that both SO and RM can be predicted over time. Medications with RL >300% have SO ≈ 1500 (RM ≈ 40%), and those with RL <100% have SO ≈ 500 (RM ≈ 13%).

Time series analysis of NPDS data sheds light on hidden patterns. It may help clinicians discern patterns of potential SO associated with various hypertension and psychiatric medications. RL based on rat experimental data is highly correlated to RM based on human observational data, and the causality is self-evident. On a global scale, data-driven prescribing of medications with RL <100% could potentially help prevent millions of SO every year.

The US Poison Control Centers’ National Poison Data System (NPDS) publishes annual reports describing exposures to various substances among the general population.¹ Table 22B of each NPDS report shows the number of outcomes from exposures to different pharmacologic treatments in the United States, including psychotropic medications.² In this Table, the relative morbidity (RM) of a medication is calculated as the ratio of serious outcomes (SO) to single exposures (SE), where SO = moderate + major + death. In this article, I use the NPDS data to demonstrate how time series analysis of the RM ratios for hypertension and psychiatric medications can help predict SO associated with these agents, which may help guide clinicians’ prescribing decisions.^2,3

Time series analysis of hypertension medications

Due to the high prevalence of hypertension, it is not surprising that more suicide deaths occur each year from calcium channel blockers (CCB) than from lithium (37 vs 2, according to 2017 NPDS data).³ I used time series analysis to compare SO during 2006-2017 for 5 classes of hypertension medications: CCB, beta blockers (BB), angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors (ACEI), angiotensin receptor blockers (ARB), and diuretics (Figure 1).

Time series analysis of 2006-2017 data predicted the following number of deaths for 2018: CCB ≥33, BB ≥17, ACEI ≤2, ARB 0, and diuretics ≤1. The observed deaths in 2018 were 41, 23, 0, 0, and 1, respectively.² The 2018 predicted RM were CCB 10.66%, BB 11.10%, ACEI 3.51%, ARB 2.04%, and diuretics 3.38%. The 2018 observed RM for these medications were 11.01%, 11.37%, 3.02%, 2.40%, and 2.88%, respectively.²

Because the NPDS data for hyper­tension medications was only provided by class, in order to detect differences within each class, I used the relative lethality (RL) equation: RL = 310x / LD50, where x is the maximum daily dose of a medication prescribed for 30 days, and LD50 is the rat oral lethal dose 50. The RL equation represents the ratio of a 30-day supply of medication to the human equivalent LD50 for a 60-kg person.⁴ The RL equation is useful for comparing the safety of various medications, and can help clinicians avoid prescribing a lethal amount of a given medication (Figure 2). For example, the equation shows that among CCB, felodipine is 466 times safer than verapamil and 101 times safer than diltiazem. Not surprisingly, 2006-2018 data shows many deaths via intentional verapamil or diltiazem overdose vs only 1 reference to felodipine. A regression model shows significant correlation and causality between RL and SO over time.⁵ Integrating all 3 mathematical models suggests that the higher RM of CCB and BB may be caused by the high RL of verapamil, diltiazem, nicardipine, propranolol, and labetalol.

These mathematical models can help physicians consider whether to switch the patient’s current medication to another class with a lower RM. For patients who need a BB or CCB, prescribing a medication with a lower RL within the same class may be another option. The data suggest that avoiding hypertension medications with RL >100% may significantly decrease morbidity and mortality.

Predicting serious outcomes of psychiatric medications

The 2018 NPDS data for psychiatric medications show similarly important results.² For example, the lithium RM is predictable over time (Figure 3) and has been consistently the highest among psychiatric medications. Using 2006-2017 NPDS data,³ I predicted that the 2018 lithium RM would be 41.56%. The 2018 observed lithium RM was 41.45%.² I created a linear regression model for each NPDS report from 2013 to 2018 to illustrate the correlation between RL and adjusted SO for 13 psychiatric medications.^2,3,6,7 To account for different sample sizes among medications, the lithium SE for each respective year was used for all medications (adjusted SO = SE × RM). A time series analysis of these regression models shows that SO data points hover in the same y-axis region from year to year, with a corresponding RL on the x-axis: escitalopram 6.33%, citalopram 15.50%, mirtazapine 28.47%, paroxetine 37.35%, sertraline 46.72%, fluoxetine 54.87%, venlafaxine 99.64%, duloxetine 133.33%, trazodone 269.57%, bupropion 289.42%, amitriptyline 387.50%, doxepin 632.65%, and lithium 1062.86% (Figure 4). Every year, the scatter plot shape remains approximately the same, which suggests that both SO and RM can be predicted over time. Medications with RL >300% have SO ≈ 1500 (RM ≈ 40%), and those with RL <100% have SO ≈ 500 (RM ≈ 13%).

Time series analysis of NPDS data sheds light on hidden patterns. It may help clinicians discern patterns of potential SO associated with various hypertension and psychiatric medications. RL based on rat experimental data is highly correlated to RM based on human observational data, and the causality is self-evident. On a global scale, data-driven prescribing of medications with RL <100% could potentially help prevent millions of SO every year.

The US Poison Control Centers’ National Poison Data System (NPDS) publishes annual reports describing exposures to various substances among the general population.¹ Table 22B of each NPDS report shows the number of outcomes from exposures to different pharmacologic treatments in the United States, including psychotropic medications.² In this Table, the relative morbidity (RM) of a medication is calculated as the ratio of serious outcomes (SO) to single exposures (SE), where SO = moderate + major + death. In this article, I use the NPDS data to demonstrate how time series analysis of the RM ratios for hypertension and psychiatric medications can help predict SO associated with these agents, which may help guide clinicians’ prescribing decisions.^2,3

Time series analysis of hypertension medications

Due to the high prevalence of hypertension, it is not surprising that more suicide deaths occur each year from calcium channel blockers (CCB) than from lithium (37 vs 2, according to 2017 NPDS data).³ I used time series analysis to compare SO during 2006-2017 for 5 classes of hypertension medications: CCB, beta blockers (BB), angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors (ACEI), angiotensin receptor blockers (ARB), and diuretics (Figure 1).

Time series analysis of 2006-2017 data predicted the following number of deaths for 2018: CCB ≥33, BB ≥17, ACEI ≤2, ARB 0, and diuretics ≤1. The observed deaths in 2018 were 41, 23, 0, 0, and 1, respectively.² The 2018 predicted RM were CCB 10.66%, BB 11.10%, ACEI 3.51%, ARB 2.04%, and diuretics 3.38%. The 2018 observed RM for these medications were 11.01%, 11.37%, 3.02%, 2.40%, and 2.88%, respectively.²

Because the NPDS data for hyper­tension medications was only provided by class, in order to detect differences within each class, I used the relative lethality (RL) equation: RL = 310x / LD50, where x is the maximum daily dose of a medication prescribed for 30 days, and LD50 is the rat oral lethal dose 50. The RL equation represents the ratio of a 30-day supply of medication to the human equivalent LD50 for a 60-kg person.⁴ The RL equation is useful for comparing the safety of various medications, and can help clinicians avoid prescribing a lethal amount of a given medication (Figure 2). For example, the equation shows that among CCB, felodipine is 466 times safer than verapamil and 101 times safer than diltiazem. Not surprisingly, 2006-2018 data shows many deaths via intentional verapamil or diltiazem overdose vs only 1 reference to felodipine. A regression model shows significant correlation and causality between RL and SO over time.⁵ Integrating all 3 mathematical models suggests that the higher RM of CCB and BB may be caused by the high RL of verapamil, diltiazem, nicardipine, propranolol, and labetalol.

These mathematical models can help physicians consider whether to switch the patient’s current medication to another class with a lower RM. For patients who need a BB or CCB, prescribing a medication with a lower RL within the same class may be another option. The data suggest that avoiding hypertension medications with RL >100% may significantly decrease morbidity and mortality.

Predicting serious outcomes of psychiatric medications

The 2018 NPDS data for psychiatric medications show similarly important results.² For example, the lithium RM is predictable over time (Figure 3) and has been consistently the highest among psychiatric medications. Using 2006-2017 NPDS data,³ I predicted that the 2018 lithium RM would be 41.56%. The 2018 observed lithium RM was 41.45%.² I created a linear regression model for each NPDS report from 2013 to 2018 to illustrate the correlation between RL and adjusted SO for 13 psychiatric medications.^2,3,6,7 To account for different sample sizes among medications, the lithium SE for each respective year was used for all medications (adjusted SO = SE × RM). A time series analysis of these regression models shows that SO data points hover in the same y-axis region from year to year, with a corresponding RL on the x-axis: escitalopram 6.33%, citalopram 15.50%, mirtazapine 28.47%, paroxetine 37.35%, sertraline 46.72%, fluoxetine 54.87%, venlafaxine 99.64%, duloxetine 133.33%, trazodone 269.57%, bupropion 289.42%, amitriptyline 387.50%, doxepin 632.65%, and lithium 1062.86% (Figure 4). Every year, the scatter plot shape remains approximately the same, which suggests that both SO and RM can be predicted over time. Medications with RL >300% have SO ≈ 1500 (RM ≈ 40%), and those with RL <100% have SO ≈ 500 (RM ≈ 13%).

Time series analysis of NPDS data sheds light on hidden patterns. It may help clinicians discern patterns of potential SO associated with various hypertension and psychiatric medications. RL based on rat experimental data is highly correlated to RM based on human observational data, and the causality is self-evident. On a global scale, data-driven prescribing of medications with RL <100% could potentially help prevent millions of SO every year.