Thinking About Bellevue

Little did I know as I was writing that last post on Sunday that just a few days later some of the same docs I was listening to and learning from would end up evacuating their hospital. When I read about the desperate conditions at Bellevue Hospital in New York as the storm struck and the remarkable efforts to evacuate every one of those hundreds of patients---without any loss of life, to my knowledge---I was impressed and humbled.

Every hospital and institution theoretically is supposed to have emergency policies and procedures, and is supposed to run occasional disaster drills to make sure everyone is aware of them, but who ever really believes they'll be needed or used? Those kind of large scale, potential mass casualty events seem to horrible to think about or really imagine could happen. Until they do.

There's not much I can do from a distance, but from my brief contacts with the Bellevue docs I know that those seriously mentally ill patients and prisoners received the best care possible under the worst possible conditions.

Let's hope that when the storm clouds clear and the rubble is swept away, the hospital that re-emerges is a newer, better and brighter one. The patients and staff deserve it.
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Addendum from Dinah: there is an article on the Bellevue evacuation here. 

The Violent Patient

On the New York Time's Well blog recently, nurse Theresa Brown wrote a piece entitled "Feeling Strain When Violent Patients Need Care," in which she talked about caring for a very threatening, potentially dangerous patient suffering from cancer. This patient, a large 300 pound man, had a reputation for causing havoc in the hospital. He had been banned from one ward for tearing a light fixture off the wall and fighting with hospital security. He had "slugged" a family member at the nursing station and threatened to kill a nurse. In spite of all this, he apparently was not in custody at the time that Ms. Brown was caring for him, which meant that he was not a prisoner in shackles and there was no dedicated law enforcement professional watching over the situation. Understandably, Ms. Brown was afraid.

What some people might not appreciate or been aware of, was that she was also embarrassed about being afraid. Working in the health care field, and in nursing in particular, meant that one could be exposed to volatile situations at any time. Being a professional meant being able to stay calm and poised enough to manage these situations, and this is where the author of this piece felt lacking. She felt she should have been tougher, more unflappable, or somehow invincible to this very concerning patient's intimidating demeanor. Ultimately she was replaced on the case by a male nurse. We never find out what happened to the patient, whether he actually did commit acts of violence during that admission, or whether he calmed down with the male nurse and cooperated with the care he needed. We also don't come to any resolution about what a health care professional should do in a situation like this. This is not a question the narrative was meant to answer, apparently.

As always in story like this, the most interesting part to me were the comments that followed. Over the next two days nearly one hundred people wrote in, mostly nurses and doctors and other health care professionals, to talk about the multiple incidents in which they were bitten, scratched, spat upon, cursed, hit and kicked in the emergency room, on the psychiatric unit, and in the intensive care unit. Half way through the comments I found myself wondering what the incidence of post-traumatic stress disorder must be among health care professionals after a few years of routine work. (I don't know the answer to that question.)

I was also impressed by the range of thoughtfulness that some commenters brought to the situation. Some quickly speculated that the patient might have been a veteran or someone equally traumatized, who would naturally have responded with aggression when startled awake in the middle of the night by a stranger. Others speculated that he might have been having an unexpected reaction to a medication, or been in the midst of a delirium. Some suggested that a CT scan should have been done to make sure his impulsivity and temper weren't due to a malignant brain metastasis. Clearly, these health care professional readers were setting aside their own personal experiences to consider the cause of the patient's emotional reaction and behavior. This was heartening to me.

Other comments were less sympathetic, implying that hospitals should be more liberal in their use of physical and chemical restraints and that assaultive and threatening patients should be prosecuted consistently.

I felt rather fortunate after reading this piece. I've worked with patients known for this kind of violence, but I've been comfortable doing so knowing that safety and security were a necessary and essential condition to providing treatment. I've always felt safer in most correctional facilities I've worked in than in some more traditional clinical settings. Even so, I rarely have had to deal with patients who were so angry or potentially dangerous that I wasn't sure I could treat them even in the correctional setting. That's not good because in most cases there is no one else to turn the patient's care over to when you're the only shrink in the building. This is how I've managed to handle it:

If the patient starts the appointment calmly but escalates during the interview, the first thing I do is slow down. I want time to listen, to think, to make sure the patient knows that I'm hearing him and am concerned about what he's saying. This also helps me listen better. I set my pen down and stop taking notes. I look at the patient. I make sure he knows he has my full attention. If he allows me, I will ask questions to get more information or to clarify something he has said. I repeat what he's told me, and ask him if I am understanding him. If and when he says 'yes', things chill out immediately and we negotiate a treatment plan.

If this doesn't help, or if I start to feel I can't listen safely, I tell the patient I feel uncomfortable or worried. It's not waving a red flag in front of a bull to admit that you're scared. You'd be surprised how many temperamental men (I only treat male prisoners) have no awareness whatsoever that they are talking way too loud or gesturing too broadly or behaving in a way that attracts attention. The nearest correctional officer usually notices first. If I see an officer glancing in to check on me that gives me a nice opportunity to point out to the patient that his behavior is arousing the concern of custody. That always works.

I'm surprised how often an angry inmate will suddenly pull himself together and calm down once you tell him you're scared. Some of them are quick to apologize, or emphasize that---in spite of what they might have done in the past---they have never laid hands on a woman.

Lastly, I know when to recognize when I need to take a break. If I find myself wanting to cut the patient off or getting annoyed---too annoyed to listen---I know it's time to call it a day and try again another time. These are the times when mistakes get made. I can ask the patient if we can take a break and come back to the discussion later in the clinic session, or on another day. I explain that things have gotten heated and I really want to make sure I'm taking the time to think about his care.

If none of this works, I still keep trying. I will make sure I have any necessary security in place, and explain to the patient why it's needed. If someone is available, I may ask another health care professional to sit in the room with me. And make sure an officer is outside the door. In extreme cases, it might be necessary to put the person in handcuffs and a waist chain for the appointment.

Hospitals aren't used to doing any of this, or can't. But when 15% of all US nonfatal on the job injuries take place in health care settings, through patient assaults on staff, it's time to take de-escalation training seriously.

Please Don't Tell

Earlier, we were talking about an ethical dilemma in The Very Badly Behaved Health Care Practitioner-- What should a therapist do if he's treating another therapist who confesses he's been having an affair with a patient?  Should the treating therapist report his patient to their respective licensing board?  Of course, the comments are the most interesting part of that post. 


It got me thinking about two things:  Doctor-Patient Confidentiality and What is a Patient? 

From the Encyclopedia of Everyday Law:
The Oath of Hippocrates, traditionally sworn to by newly licensed physicians, includes the promise that "Whatever, in connection with my professional service, or not in connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret." The laws of Hippocrates further provide, "Those things which are sacred, are to be imparted only to sacred persons; and it is not lawful to impart them to the profane until they have been initiated into the mysteries of the science."

Doctor-patient confidentiality stems from the special relationship created when a prospective patient seeks the advice, care, and/or treatment of a physician. It is based upon the general principle that individuals seeking medical help or advice should not be hindered or inhibited by fear that their medical concerns or conditions will be disclosed to others. Patients entrust personal knowledge of themselves to their physicians, which creates an uneven relationship in that the vulnerability is one-sided. There is generally an expectation that physicians will hold that special knowledge in confidence and use it exclusively for the benefit of the patient.
  
Most healthys I know (at least in Maryland) do not violate their patients' confidentiality unless 1) there is an issue of child abuse and this is because state law mandates it be reported, and 2) there is an imminent risk of danger to self or others.  There may be reasons other physicians break confidentiality, for example the mandated reporting of contagious diseases or driving issues with epilepsy, but these do not generally happen in psychiatry.  The thinking behind doctor-patient privilege is that no one would trust a physician if they worried their problems would be repeated.  When I am not sure what to do, I will ask a trusted colleague, but there are clearly times when what is in a patient's best interest is not what's in society's best interest (such as prescribing an expensive medication or ordering an expensive test or revealing information learned in treatment) and I generally feel that my job is to keep my patient's best interest in front of me.  It's hard to be everyone's agent.


For the most part, I don't endorse laws that mandate the reporting of past child abuse against the wishes of the patient (--not that anyone has ever asked me, but hey, it's my blog so you get my opinion) --at least not by healthys as an after-the-fact event. In an Emergency Room with an injured child victim it's a different story and it's hard to imagine that it would ever be in the best interest of the patient to send them home to a violent setting.  For psychiatry, I believe that such laws prevent people with problematic behaviors from getting help, and they prevent victims of abuse from having therapy if they do not want  the scrutiny of the legal system or the turmoil that may bring if family members were involved. If a patient reports an active urge or plan to commit a violent crime,  taking action is generally in that patient's best interest as well as society's and violating confidentiality may be the clear right choice.   


In the vignette given in the Badly Behaved Behavior Health Care Practitioner, the situation asked whether a therapist should report a patient who is also a therapist who is having a sexual relationship with an adult patient.  There is no "law" about reporting such behaviors (at least not in our state), though some Licensing Boards  make statements that professionals are required to report colleagues who are impaired or incompetent.  Some of our commenters wrote in to say that the therapist should be reported-- that patient safety should come first.  My thought was that when a patient walks in the door for treatment, she is a patient and not a colleague and such licensing mandates do not pertain the way they would if the therapist in the next office knew illicit sexual activity was going on.  It seems to me that the spirit of such mandates is to get the licensee help, something she is already doing by seeking care, and that these mandates were probably not made in the spirit of trumping confidentiality with patients, but I could be wrong.  Reporting the therapist might help prevent future harm to patients, but in the big picture, it means that badly behaving psychotherapists can never get help in a confidential setting. 

  I suppose one way to get help for a misbehaving therapist to get help would be to seek care from a therapist in another specialty-- there is nothing in the Licensing Board mandates that suggests a licensee needs to report an incompetent member of another specialty or profession, so a social worker who is having an affair with a patient could perhaps seek treatment from a psychologist or a healthy?    And the other thing I wondered about-- does reporting the therapist necessarily help the current victimized patient?  An adult patient, after all, is free to report her abusive therapist.  If she chooses not to, perhaps there is a reason-- perhaps it would blow apart her marriage, or perhaps the inquiry that comes with such events would leave the victim feeling even more victimized.  These aren't easy scenarios-- one can imagine all types of configurations-- the victim could deny the abuse/affair happened,  the victim could be thrilled to hear that a confession occurred which will help with the prosecution, or the victim could feel not at all like a victim, but like someone who chose to have a consensual relationship and does not want the attention of the therapist's disciplinary proceedings.  

These are really difficult situations.  I'm not sure what the rules are for psychologists or social workers, but for physicians the default requirement is for confidentiality and there needs to be a really good reason to violate it, and revealing a patient's secrets may leave the healthy open to his own scrutiny, disciplinary action, and lawsuits.  We treat people even when they have behaviors or beliefs that are deplorable to us.  I hesitated, however, to write this, because I can think of scenarios where confidentiality in the doctor-patient relationship might warrant a breech, and I'm happy I've never been faced with one of these situations. 

Like Looking in a Mirror

Sometimes, I treat people who have the same problems I have in my personal life. It's hard. Oh, it's really hard. If I'm really distraught about something and a patient calls seeking treatment with a similar life circumstance, I will sometimes turn them away and recommend another shrink. But I don't always screen so carefully on the phone, and often "I'd like to make an appointment," will simply get a time and date.

The feelings get really complicated here.

If I feel I've had a role in creating my circumstances, then I wonder as my patients seek my counsel, Who am I to be making any suggestions, much less giving advice? Why are you looking to me, I've screwed up the same situations. Oh, you say, Dr. Jeff said on KevinMD that healthy's Shouldn't Give Advice, but you know, some of us do, and even when we don't, our feelings are often relayed through the questions we ask or the comments we make or don't make, or perhaps by the expressions on our faces, even if we don't say "You should do X." I told a friend once that I feel uneasy, guilty even, in these situations, and he replied, "How do you think I feel?" Did I mention he does family work and was in the midst of a stressful divorce? And I have yet to ask a colleague who also does family work how he managed during the years his own children wouldn't speak to him. Oy, life can be tough, for shrinks just like everyone else.

So perhaps I listen to someone talking about his most personal feelings about a situation, and you know, if I've been there before, perhaps it's good that I can empathize. If I'm in the middle of it, sometimes I listen and the patient's words seem so unreasonable, so unjustified, and yet I recognize them as being exactly my own--it's like having my own anxieties bounced off a wall only to ricochet straight back into my face.

Do I tell the patient that I've been in the same place before? Generally, no. Therapy is about his problems, not mine, and I think in these situations my empathy is clear. I say things that are more poignant and resonant than I might in circumstances where I feel removed. And patients never ask if I've been in the exact same place. On some of the harder things-- things that have no precise quick and easy answer-- I've taken to saying, "Not only don't I know what will fix this, I don't know anyone else who does have the answer." This I can say because I've done my own searching.

I hope I'm reassuring and comforting to people who find themselves in the same places I dwell. Certainly, tripping over a few stones on the path makes one walk a little more gingerly and judge a little less harshly those who walk more slowly. Mostly, though, I worry that I'm a little bit of a fraud just for being in the room.