Noteworthy News Articles on Mental Health Topics, December 20-22, 2006




Schizophrenia Drug Wins Federal OK
Associated Press, 12/20/2006

WASHINGTON -- Johnson & Johnson won federal approval Wednesday for a schizophrenia drug derived from another top-selling anti-psychotic medicine. The Food and Drug Administration said Invega will add to the treatment options for the disabling mental disorder, which affects about 2 million Americans. It also could add to the bottom line for J&J, which faces the loss of patent protection in December 2007 for the No. 3 anti-psychotic drug, Risperdal. Risperdal, also called risperidone, had $2.3 billion in sales in 2005, according to the pharmaceutical data company IMS Health.
      Confronted with the prospect of competition from generic versions of the drug, the New Brunswick, N.J.-based company seeks a further six months' patent protection for Risperdal by studying its use in children. Invega, also called paliperidone, is derived from Risperdal. The body breaks down Risperdal to form paliperidone. Unlike Risperdal, Invega will be sold in extended-release tablet form. The company didn't disclose the drug's cost, saying only that it would be priced competitively with other anti-psychotics.
     Schizophrenia is marked by hallucinations, delusions, disordered thinking and movements and cognitive deficits, the FDA said.
     On the Net: Food and Drug Administration: http://www.fda.gov


Army Cites Therapy Progress
Matthew Kauffman, Hartford Courant- 12/20/2006

WASHINGTON -- Top Army medical officials touted progress Tuesday in breaking the stigma associated with mental health care, even as they released a new report showing the suicide rate among soldiers in Iraq reached a record high last year and reports of acute stress and depression also climbed.
     The long-awaited report by a team of military mental health experts found that soldiers serving in Iraq were less fearful that seeking psychiatric care would hurt their standing in the military - a finding that Lt. Gen. Kevin Kiley, the Army surgeon general, attributed to better training of soldiers and increased understanding among commanders.
     But the report, based on surveys of soldiers in late 2005, also found a significant increase in levels of stress, anxiety and depression - especially among troops who had served more than one deployment. About 14 percent of soldiers serving in Iraq last year reported acute stress symptoms, up from 11 percent a year earlier. Among soldiers on a repeat deployment, more than 18 percent reported acute stress, including symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD.
     In other findings, the report found a drop last year in soldiers' confidence in their ability to get mental health care for their troubled comrades. And fewer than half of mental health providers treating troops in Iraq said they had adequate resources, while a third reported experiencing a high "burnout level."
     In a media roundtable at the Pentagon, Kiley said the Army would "keep plugging away" to improve mental health care for troops during and after deployment. "Are we concerned that soldiers on second or maybe third deployments could be at increased risk of increasing stress which may lead to PTSD? Sure," Kiley said. "Are we encouraged because stigma is dropping, and soldiers who've got plenty of access to mental health care are starting to tap into that? Yes. We're not rocking back on our heels, but that's encouraging."
     The Courant reported in May that the military was increasingly sending mentally troubled troops into combat and keeping them there, in some cases resulting in suicides. Army officials confirmed Tuesday that 22 soldiers had killed themselves in Iraq in 2005, a rate of 19.9 per 100,000 - the highest since the war began, and nearly double the 2004 rate. Of the 22, five were serving repeat tours.
     Kiley and Col. Edward Crandell, who led the team of experts, acknowledged that troops reported greater stress in 2005, but they said there was no evidence that the jump in suicides last year was related to combat exposure. They said suicide rates fluctuate from year to year, and they believe many of the 2005 cases were triggered by relationship and other personal problems. "We think that the numbers [of suicides] are so rare to begin with that it's very hard to make any kind of an interpretation," Kiley said. "We have not made a connection between the stress on the force and some massive or significant [incidence of] suicide."
     Still, Kiley and Col. Elspeth Ritchie, psychiatric consultant to the Army surgeon general, said they have taken a number of steps aimed at reducing suicides. The Army appointed a suicide prevention coordinator for Iraq last summer, and is in the process of establishing a unit that will more closely analyze each suicide, they said. "We're working our way through strategies to try to counter some of this, to try to be more effective in recognizing signs and symptoms," Kiley said. Ritchie also cited newly issued mental health guidelines that will expand screening for troops heading to war and set limits on when service members with psychiatric problems can be kept in combat. The guidelines were issued last month by Assistant Defense Secretary William Winkenwerder Jr. in response to congressional legislation prompted by The Courant's series.
     The experts reported progress in one element of mental health care access, with 95 percent of soldiers saying that it was not difficult to get to the location of a mental health specialist. Overall, 30 percent of the soldiers surveyed in 2005 received mental health services while in Iraq - up from 23 percent the year before. The use of psychiatric medications also rose, with 14 percent of soldiers taking medications for a mental health, combat stress or sleep problem - up from 8 percent in 2004.
     The report suggests that some soldiers serving repeat deployments are returning to combat with "unresolved acute stress problems." The Courant has reported that some soldiers suffering from PTSD have been sent back to Iraq. But Kiley said Tuesday that soldiers with severe, unresolved PTSD were not being returned to combat. The report, dated May 29 and based on surveys done in October and November 2005, was released months later than expected and is now more than a year outdated. A team of experts has already visited Iraq in preparation for the next evaluation. Kiley pledged that the next report would be released more quickly.


As a Mother Falters, a Father Strengthens His Resolve (#3 of six articles)
Mary Otto, Washington Post- 12/20/2006

"Mr. Cromwell," Judge Martin P. Welch asks, "how are you?" "One hundred percent better than I was last week," Keith Cromwell replies. "Everything is fine." But he is alone. His girlfriend, Stacy Coleman, is not in court with him. She wasn't there the week before, either. She has relapsed again. After a relapse in November, she was placed in a new inpatient drug treatment program. She made it through the holidays clean -- clean enough to visit 6-month-old Keyona, the couple's baby in foster care. Then, a week ago, Coleman had an argument with the house manager and left her program. She headed straight back into her old life: stealing, hustling and smoking crack.
     Since New Year's, however, Cromwell has been in a month-long treatment course at Mountain Manor, near Camp David, a religious shrine and a ski resort. The bare trees, rolling hills and cold, fresh air seem a world away from Baltimore, where Cromwell grew up in housing projects, the third of 10 children. In a constant round of therapy sessions, the quiet Cromwell has been encouraged to open up and confront facts about his life, his addiction and the people he has hurt. Keyona.
     "I've seen you up; I've seen you down," the judge is saying. "But you are always showing up." Cromwell is the rare father in the Family Recovery Program. Every Friday, the courtroom fills with mothers. A few have won back their children, but others come and go as they struggle to quell their addictions. "The women are getting all the glory," Cromwell announces to the court that day. "I want to be the first man to get my daughter back."
     The following Friday, when Cromwell returns for another hearing, clean for more than two months, there is a hard look of resolve about him. But Coleman is waiting for him. Her face seems swollen, her hair tangled. She is wearing a heavy jacket and heavy boots. She seems to panic in the hall outside the courtroom. "I want to give up my parental rights," she tells him. Small, solid Janet Neale, the program's manager, is standing by. She sees the wild look in Coleman's eyes and tries to enfold her in a motherly hug. "I don't want her," Coleman mutters in an exhausted monotone. Neale walks Coleman up and down the hall, making soothing sounds.
     Cromwell goes into the courtroom. Coleman slips in after him, trying to catch his eye. He refuses to look her way. Court starts late this morning. The judge's wife had an accident, and he had to take his children to school. He hasn't even had his cup of tea. But when Welch, the Circuit Court judge who leads the program, hurries to the bench, he is as fastidiously dressed as usual, with a yellow bow tie showing above the collar of his black robe, and smiling. Cromwell fingers the cross he wears around his neck as the judge turns to Coleman, her head hanging down. "Ms. Coleman," the judge says, "I'm glad to see you. We missed you these two weeks."
     The court, he says, is ready to give her another chance. The judge knows that relapse is often part of recovery. The weeks of sobriety that Coleman had achieved before she faltered can be building blocks for another try. He wants her caseworker to reassess her needs, to see whether another treatment program would work better. "We will meet you where you are. Are you going to let us try?" No, she answers. "Even if you want to give up, you can't," the judge tells her. "You've had a lot of ups and downs. We want you to take a deep breath. Are you ready to be reassessed?" "No." "I will order that you be reassessed. You had an altercation with your house manager. If you end up in another program where you don't have those issues, will you try again?" "Maybe," she whispers. Cromwell gives her a long, severe look and shakes his head.


After a Slip, Parents Find Renewed Focus (#4 of six articles)
Mary Otto, Washington Post- 12/21/2006

On the first Friday of February, Keith Cromwell leaves the courthouse and finds Stacy Coleman waiting for him. She hasn't been going to court. She has abandoned recovery and gone back to their old life, to the drug habit that cost them their daughter, now 7 months old and living in foster care in the Baltimore suburbs. Coleman starts to walk with Cromwell, and he desperately feels himself also slipping back. And then, as if in some kind of nightmare, they use drugs again. Afterward, he recalls telling her: "Stacy, we cannot lose this child. We can't let the state take our child because we are using drugs. We've got to let the drugs go."
     He is anguished by his lapse. And it does not go unnoticed in the courtroom the following Friday. "You tested positive on Feb. 3," Judge Martin P. Welch tells him. "All my nevers came through," Cromwell says, almost weeping. He says he used drugs to try to reach his girlfriend, to bring her back. "I tried to help her," Cromwell says. "I didn't get in this by myself. I wasn't planning on having a child. She came into my life. This happened. There is no excuse for what I've done. I took a chance. I cared too much. I went through that to save her." "You may have to get out of this without Stacy," the judge tells him, sternly. "We are going to look at some more treatment options for you. Are you ready for that?" "No," Cromwell says. "I made a mistake." "Is this about you?" "This is about us," Cromwell says. "I didn't have a child by myself." "Is this about you or Stacy or Keyona?" "It's about all of us." "I'd like to think it's more about you and Keyona." Cromwell refuses to concede the point. "A child deserves a mother and a father." "Are you going to deprive Keyona of both?" the judge asks. "You have to step up to the plate, because Stacy has not."
     Late in the hearing, Coleman arrives. She is wild-eyed, her face appearing heavy and swollen. She nervously picks at a sore on her lip. "Come on up," the judge says, rising from the bench. "What made you come today?" "I'm ready to go to treatment," she blurts out. The judge reacts cautiously. "You guys have got to figure this out," Welch says. "You may be poison for each other. It's not about just losing your child. It's about losing your life."
     Coleman is sent to Chrysalis House, a program in an airy, rambling house in rural Crownsville, where she joins other recovering women, sharing cooking and housekeeping duties and learning how to care for children. Cromwell is at Recovery Network in a big old house in Baltimore he shares with about 16 other men. When Coleman gets permission to visit Cromwell, they take a walk along the Inner Harbor. Cromwell asks her to marry him and gives her a heart-shaped ring. They return to treatment and focus on sobriety, and on Keyona.
     A day comes in April when Cromwell rides two buses across town, and his daughter is waiting. The 9-month-old girl is in the drab lobby of the social services building, buckled into a car seat and swaddled in a teddy bear blanket that says "Hug Me." Cromwell falls to his knees. "Hey, honey," he coos. "Did you miss me?" She fastens her gaze on her father with her large, steady eyes. Cromwell unbuckles her from the car seat, and she settles into the crook of his arm. He offers her a bottle of formula, sent by the foster mother. Then he changes her diaper with the skill of a man who helped raise several younger siblings in Baltimore public housing. He plays and cuddles with Keyona, and suddenly, the hour is up. Reluctantly, Cromwell wraps the baby back into her blanket and buckles her back into her car seat. "I love you," he tells her. "See you next time."
     Two weeks pass. Coleman arrives at the courthouse. She is marking 60 days of sobriety, and she is dressed in a flowing, silky frock. In her arms is Keyona, wearing a green and white dress. They settle into the bench next to Cromwell, looking like a family."Look at the pretty outfit, Daddy," Coleman whispers. "You are getting ready to walk, ain't you?" she croons. "Keyona, Keyona." Cromwell takes the baby and kisses her. Takes a deep breath. Puts his arm around Coleman's shoulder. Welch beams. "That must be Keyona," he says. "My little angel," Cromwell replies. "That's who you are working for," Welch says. "You light up the room with your presence and your smile. You are walking on air. All I can say about you is that you are doing stellar." "I just want to thank God I woke up to see another day," Cromwell says. "Amen to that," Welch says



Study: Psilocybin Relieves OCD Symptoms

Associated Press, 12/21/2006

TUCSON, Ariz. -- A preliminary study of the active ingredient in psychedelic mushrooms has found it is effective in relieving the symptoms of people suffering from severe obsessive compulsive disorder, a University of Arizona psychiatrist reports. Dr. Francisco A. Moreno led the first FDA-approved clinical study of psilocybin since it was outlawed in 1970. The results of the small-scale study are published in the latest edition of the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry.
      Moreno said the study's intent was only to test the safety of administering psilocybin to patients, and its effectiveness is still in doubt until a larger controlled study can be conducted. But in each of the nine patients in the study, psilocybin completely removed symptoms of the disorder for a period of about four to 24 hours, with some remaining symptom-free for days, Moreno said. ''What we saw acutely was a drastic decrease in symptoms,'' Moreno said. ''The obsessions would really dissolve or reduce drastically for a period of time.''
     Best known among the drug culture as magic mushrooms, the hallucinogenic fungus remains a popular illicit drug. Although banned by Comprehensive Drug Abuse Prevention and Control Act of 1970, research into medical uses is allowed. The new research does not reflect any change in government policy, said Rogene Waite, a spokeswoman for the Drug Enforcement Administration.
     Currently, there is no treatment that eases symptoms of the disorder as fast as psilocybin appears to, Moreno said. Other drugs take several weeks to show an effect, but the psilocybin was almost immediate. The drug is not one that could be taken daily, Moreno said, and many questions remain about its use, including if it would be addictive or if patients would develop a tolerance to the drug. Moreno hopes to conduct an expanded study that could offer more convincing evidence of its effectiveness. ''We're very cautious about making too much of the early results,'' Moreno said. ''I don't want to characterize it as psychedelics are the way to go. Although it seemed to be safe, this was done in the context of supervision by trained professionals in a medical setting. This is not ready to be used by the public just because nine people tolerated it.''
     Symptoms of obsessive compulsive disorder typically develop in the teen years and can make it difficult hard for patients to lead normal, day-to-day lives. The nine patients in the study had a range of compulsions, including fear of being contaminated, elaborate cleaning rituals, tapping or touching rituals and mental rituals. One patient wouldn't touch the floor with anything but the soles of his shoes. Others would shower for hours or put on pants over and over again until they felt right. ''They know it's senseless. They know it doesn't do anything for them, but if they don't do it they become very distraught and very uncomfortable and have a very difficult time functioning,'' Moreno said.
     Information from: Arizona Daily Star, http://www.azstarnet.com



Study: Teens Use Medicines to Get High

Associated Press, 12/21/2006

WASHINGTON -- Teens increasingly are getting high with legal drugs like painkillers and mood stimulants, and they're turning to cough syrup as well, says a government survey released Thursday. The annual study by the National Institute on Drug Abuse, conducted by the University of Michigan, showed mixed results in the nation's longtime campaign against teen drug abuse. It found that while fewer teens overall drank alcohol or used illegal drugs in the last year, a small but growing number were popping prescription painkillers like OxyContin and Vicodin and stimulants like Ritalin. As many as one in every 14 high school seniors said they used cold medicine ''fairly recently'' to get high, the study found.
      It was the first year that the government tracked the frequency of teens who reported getting high from over-the-counter medicine for coughs and colds. ''It's bad that kids are buying cough syrup and using it this way -- it's not good for them,'' said John P. Walters, director of the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy.
     The study found about one in 10 high school seniors have abused the painkiller Vicodin and Walters said kids may be pilfering the pills from their parents' medicine cabinets. ''That is one thing you can do -- take the pills that are no longer being used and throw them away, get rid of them,'' he said in an interview.
     Walters credited public service advertising with a steady decrease in overall teen drug use over the past five years and said the agency would shift some of its 2007 advertising budget toward combatting prescription drug abuse. He challenged the recommendations of an August government audit that said the anti-drug advertising campaign wasn't working and suggested Congress consider reducing its funding. The report by the Government Accountability Office found some children were actually more likely to use marijuana after seeing the ads. ''We're pushing back,'' Walters told reporters Thursday as he outlined the study results. ''What this shows is we're pushing back successfully.''
     The rise in prescription drug abuse was a troubling conclusion in a study that Walters described as good news overall because of the drop in teen use of alcohol, cigarettes, marijuana and other illicit substances. An estimated 840,000 fewer teens reported using illegal drugs now compared to five years ago, he said.
     The annual study, in its 32nd year, surveyed 50,000 students in the 8th, 10th and 12th grades at more than 400 schools nationwide. It found, that over the last year:
--Illegal drug use at all three grade levels dropped, if only slightly. An estimated 36.5 percent of high school seniors reported using illicit drugs at some point in the year.
--Marijuana remained the single most abused drug among teens, although its use also dropped slightly within all three grades. Nearly 12 percent of 8th graders reported using it, compared to 25 percent of 10th graders and 31 percent of high school seniors.
--One-third of 8th graders said they had consumed alcoholic beverages, compared to more than a half of 10th graders and two-thirds of seniors surveyed. That also was a small decrease among the three grade levels. But the number of 10th and 12th graders who reported getting drunk increased slightly.
     Comparatively, the number of teens who got high from medicines and households items instead of illegal drugs was small. They included:
--Nearly 10 percent of high school seniors admitted to using excessive dosages of Vicodin, a slight increase over the last year.
--Nine percent of 8th graders sniffed glue, spray paints, cleaning fluids or other inhalants, down slightly.
--3.6 percent of 10th graders got high off Ritalin, up two-tenths of 1 percent. Ritalin is used normally to combat effects of attention deficit disorder.
     That teens are turning to cough syrup to get high is particularly alarming, experts said, because the medicine is cheap and easy to get. Moreover, few people -- teens and their parents alike -- recognize the dangers of overdosing on the otherwise safe and legal drugs. ''There is this mistaken belief that intentionally abusing prescription and over-the-counter drugs is somehow safer than abusing street drugs,'' said Steve Pasierb, president and chief executive of the New York-based Partnership for Drug Free America. ''What parents don't realize is that this is about your kids taking six pills with a beer.''

The National Institute on Drug Abuse: http://www.nida.nih.gov/NIDAHome.html
White House Office of National Drug Control Policy: http://www.whitehousedrugpolicy.gov/
Partnership for Drug Free America: http://www.drugfree.org/



Saying Yes to Mess
Penelope Green, New York Times- 12/21/2006

It is a truism of American life that we’re too darn messy, or we think we are, and we feel really bad about it. Our desks and dining room tables are awash with paper; our closets are bursting with clothes and sports equipment and old files; our laundry areas boil; our basements and garages seethe. And so do our partners — or our parents, if we happen to be teenagers. This is why sales of home-organizing products, like accordion files and labelmakers and plastic tubs, keep going up and up, from $5.9 billion last year to a projected $7.6 billion by 2009, as do the revenues of companies that make closet organizing systems, an industry that is pulling in $3 billion a year, according to Closets magazine. This is why January is now Get Organized Month, thanks also to the efforts of the National Association of Professional Organizers, whose 4,000 clutter-busting members will be poised, clipboards and trash bags at the ready, to minister to the 10,000 clutter victims the association estimates will be calling for its members’ services just after the new year.
      But contrarian voices can be heard in the wilderness. An anti-anticlutter movement is afoot, one that says yes to mess and urges you to embrace your disorder. Studies are piling up that show that messy desks are the vivid signatures of people with creative, limber minds (who reap higher salaries than those with neat “office landscapes”) and that messy closet owners are probably better parents and nicer and cooler than their tidier counterparts. It’s a movement that confirms what you have known, deep down, all along: really neat people are not avatars of the good life; they are humorless and inflexible prigs, and have way too much time on their hands.
     “It’s chasing an illusion to think that any organization — be it a family unit or a corporation — can be completely rid of disorder on any consistent basis,” said Jerrold Pollak, a neuropsychologist at Seacoast Mental Health Center in Portsmouth, N.H., whose work involves helping people tolerate the inherent disorder in their lives. “And if it could, should it be? Total organization is a futile attempt to deny and control the unpredictability of life. I live in a world of total clutter, advising on cases where you’d think from all the paper it’s the F.B.I. files on the Unabomber,” when, in fact, he said, it’s only “a person with a stiff neck.” “My wife has threatened divorce over all the piles,” continued Dr. Pollack, who has an office at home, too. “If we had kids the health department would have to be alerted. But what can I do?”
     Stop feeling bad, say the mess apologists. There are more urgent things to worry about. Irwin Kula is a rabbi based in Manhattan and author of “Yearnings: Embracing the Sacred Messiness of Life,” which was published by Hyperion in September. “Order can be profane and life-diminishing,” he said the other day. “It’s a flippant remark, but if you’ve never had a messy kitchen, you’ve probably never had a home-cooked meal. Real life is very messy, but we need to have models about how that messiness works.”
     His favorite example? His 15-year-old daughter Talia’s bedroom, a picture of utter disorder — and individuality, he said. “One day I’m standing in front of the door,” he said, “and it’s out of control and my wife, Dana, is freaking out, and suddenly I see in all the piles the dress she wore to her first dance and an earring she wore to her bat mitzvah. She’s so trusting her journal is wide open on the floor, and there are photo-booth pictures of her friends strewn everywhere. I said, ‘Omigod, her cup overflows!’ And we started to laugh.” The room was an invitation, he said, to search for a deeper meaning under the scurf.
     Last week David H. Freedman, another amiable mess analyst (and science journalist), stood bemused in front of the heathery tweed collapsible storage boxes with clear panels ($29.99) at the Container Store in Natick, Mass., and suggested that the main thing most people’s closets are brimming with is unused organizing equipment. “This is another wonderful trend,” Mr. Freedman said dryly, referring to the clear panels. “We’re going to lose the ability to put clutter away. Inside your storage box, you’d better be organized.”
     Mr. Freedman is co-author, with Eric Abrahamson, of “A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder,” out in two weeks from Little, Brown & Company. The book is a meandering, engaging tour of beneficial mess and the systems and individuals reaping those benefits, like Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, whose mess-for-success tips include never making a daily schedule. As a corollary, the book’s authors examine the high cost of neatness — measured in shame, mostly, and family fights, as well as wasted dollars — and generally have a fine time tipping over orthodoxies and poking fun at clutter busters and their ilk, and at the self-help tips they live or die by. They wonder: Why is it better to pack more activities into one day? By whose standards are procrastinators less effective than their well-scheduled peers? Why should children have to do chores to earn back their possessions if they leave them on the floor, as many professional organizers suggest?
     In their book Mr. Freedman and Mr. Abrahamson describe the properties of mess in loving terms. Mess has resonance, they write, which means it can vibrate beyond its own confines and connect to the larger world. It was the overall scumminess of Alexander Fleming’s laboratory that led to his discovery of penicillin, from a moldy bloom in a petri dish he had forgotten on his desk. Mess is robust and adaptable, like Mr. Schwarzenegger’s open calendar, as opposed to brittle, like a parent’s rigid schedule that doesn’t allow for a small child’s wool-gathering or balkiness. Mess is complete, in that it embraces all sorts of random elements. Mess tells a story: you can learn a lot about people from their detritus, whereas neat — well, neat is a closed book. Neat has no narrative and no personality (as any cover of Real Simple magazine will demonstrate). Mess is also natural, as Mr. Freedman and Mr. Abrahamson point out, and a real time-saver. “It takes extra effort to neaten up a system,” they write. “Things don’t generally neaten themselves.”
     Indeed, the most valuable dividend of living with mess may be time. Mr. Freedman, who has three children and a hard-working spouse, Laurie Tobey-Freedman, a preschool special-needs coordinator, is studying Mandarin in his precious spare moments. Perusing a four-door stainless steel shoe cabinet ($149) at the Container Store, and imagining gussying up a shoe collection, he shook his head and said, “I don’t get the appeal of this, which may be a huge defect on my part in terms of higher forms of entertainment.”
     The success of the Container Store notwithstanding, there is indeed something messy — and not in a good way — about so many organizing options. “When I think about this urge to organize, it reminds me of how it was when Americans began to take more and more control of their weight: they got fatter,” said Marian Salzman, chief marketing officer of J. Walter Thompson and co-author, with Ira Matathia, of “Next Now: Trends for the Future,” which is about to be published by Palgrave Macmillan. “I never gained weight until I went on a diet,” she said, adding that she has a room in which she hides a treadmill and, now, two bags of organizing supplies. “I got sick of looking at them so I bought plastic tubs and stuffed the bags in the tubs and put the tubs in the room.” Right now, she said, “we are emotionally overloaded, and so what this is about is that we are getting better and better at living superficially.” “Superficial is the new intimate,” Ms. Salzman said, gaining steam, “and these boxes, these organizing supplies, are the containers for all our superficial selves. ‘I will be a neater mom, a hipper mom, a mom that gets more done.’ Do I sound cynical?” Nah.
     In the semiotics of mess, desks may be the richest texts. Messy-desk research borrows from cognitive ergonomics, a field of study dealing with how a work environment supports productivity. Consider that desks, our work landscapes, are stand-ins for our brains, and so the piles we array on them are “cognitive artifacts,” or data cues, of our thoughts as we work. To a professional organizer brandishing colored files and stackable trays, cluttered horizontal surfaces are a horror; to cognitive psychologists like Jay Brand, who works in the Ideation Group of Haworth Inc., the huge office furniture company, their peaks and valleys glow with intellectual intent and showcase a mind whirring away: sorting, linking, producing. (By extension, a clean desk can be seen as a dormant area, an indication that no thought or work is being undertaken.) His studies and others, like a survey conducted last year by Ajilon Professional Staffing, in Saddle Brook, N.J., which linked messy desks to higher salaries (and neat ones to salaries under $35,000), answer Einstein’s oft-quoted remark, “If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk?”
     Don Springer, 61, is an information technology project manager and the winner of the Type O-No! contest sponsored by Dymo, the labelmaker manufacturer, in October. The contest offered $5,000 worth of clutter management — for the tools (the boxes, the bins and the systems, as well as a labelmaker) and the services of a professional organizer — to the best example of a “clutter nightmare,” as expressed by contestants in a photograph and a 100-word essay. “Type O-Nos,” reads a definition on the Dymo Web site, are “outlaws on the tidy trail, clutter criminals twice over.” Mr. Springer, who in a phone interview spoke softly, precisely and with great humor, professed deep shame over the contents of what he calls his oh-by-the-way room, a library/junk room that his wife would like cleaned to make a nursery for a new grandchild. With a full-time job and membership in various clubs and organizations, and a desire to spend his free time seeing a movie with his wife instead of “expending the emotional energy it would take to sort through all the stuff,” Mr. Springer said, he is unable to prune the piles to his wife’s satisfaction. “There are emotional treasures buried in there, and I don’t want to part with them,” he said. So, why bother? “Because I love my wife and I want to make her happy,” he said.
     According to a small survey that Mr. Freedman and Mr. Abrahamson conducted for their book — 160 adults representing a cross section of genders, races and incomes, Mr. Freedman said — of those who had split up with a partner, one in 12 had done so over a struggle involving one partner’s idea of mess. Happy partnerships turn out not necessarily to be those in which products from Staples figure largely. Mr. Freedman and his wife, for example, have been married for over two decades, and live in an offhandedly messy house with a violently messy basement — the latter area, where their three children hang out, decorated (though that’s not quite the right word) in a pre-1990s Tompkins Square Park lean-to style. The room’s chaos is an example of one of Mr. Freedman and Mr. Abrahamson’s mess strategies, which is to create a mess-free DMZ (in this case, the basement stairs) and acknowledge areas of complementary mess. Cherish your mess management strategies, suggested Mr. Freedman, speaking approvingly of the pile builders and the under-the-bed stuffers; of those who let their messes wax and wane — the cyclers, he called them; and those who create satellite messes (in storage units off-site). “Most people don’t realize their own efficiency or effectiveness,” he said with a grin. It’s also nice to remember, as Mr. Freedman pointed out, that almost anything looks pretty neat if it’s shuffled into a pile.

The Secret Order of Disorder
Minimess A contained, clearly delineated pocket of mess within a larger area, as on a counter, in a closet or a drawer, or on a bulletin board or a refrigerator.
Cyclical Mess A mess that waxes and wanes in cycles. Some messes grow during the week (or the winter), only to be pruned back on weekends (or in the spring). Other cycles may be dictated by work, mood or pressures of parenting.
Vertical Mess Anything looks neat when it’s in a pile, even unlikely objects like CD cases, magazines, mail and receipts. Gravity is a powerful glue, and the appearance of neatness can be improved by adding a bin where a pile forms.
Heaped Mess A large heap of items stuffed under a bed, a desk or even a couch. Oft-retrieved items do not sit around long enough to become deeply embedded, while rarely needed items become entombed at such deep levels that it can be fun to excavate them later. Broaden your notion of storage area to include spaces behind or under furniture, or between heavy appliances like washing machines and dryers.
Satellite Mess There are 1.5 billion square feet worth of self-storage units available for rent in the United States. The money saved on a professional organizer could pay for a year’s worth of storage.
Adapted from “A Perfect Mess” by Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman (Little, Brown & Company)



Parenting as Therapy for Child’s Mental Disorders
Benedict Carey, New York Times- 12/22/2006

BUFFALO — In school he was as floppy and good-natured as a puppy, a boy who bear-hugged his friends, who was always in motion, who could fall off his chair repeatedly, as if he had no idea how to use one. But at home, after run-ins with his parents, his exuberance could turn feral. From the exile of his room, Peter Popczynski would throw anything that could be launched — books, pencils, lamps, clothes, toys — scarring the walls of the family’s brick bungalow, and leaving some items to rattle down the hallway, like flotsam from a storm.
      The Popczynskis soon received a diagnosis for their son, attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, or A.D.H.D., and were told that they could turn to a stimulant medication like Ritalin. Doctors have ample evidence that stimulants not only calm children physically but may also improve their school performance, at least for as long as they are on medication. But like most other parents, the couple preferred to avoid drug treatment, if possible. Instead, with the guidance of psychologists at the University of Buffalo, they altered the way they interacted with Peter and his younger brother, Scott. And over the course of a difficult year, they brought about a transformation in their son. He still has days when he gets into trouble, like any other 10-year-old, but he no longer exhibits the level of restless distractibility that earned him a psychiatric diagnosis.
     “People are so stressed out, and it’s so much easier to say, ‘Here, take this pill and go to your room; leave me alone,’ ” Lisa Popczynski said on a recent Monday after work. Peter sat on the couch, hunched over his homework, while her husband, Roman, occupied Scott, 8. “But what I would say is that if you are willing to take on the responsibility of extra parenting, you can make a big difference,” said Ms. Popczynski, an interior designer. “I compare parenting to driving. We all learn pretty quickly how to drive a car. But if you have to drive a Mack truck, you’re going to need some training.”
     In recent decades, psychiatry has come to understand mental disorders as a matter of biology, of brain abnormalities rooted in genetic variation. This consensus helped discredit theories from the 1960s that blamed the parents — usually the mother — for problems like neurosis, schizophrenia and autism. By defining mental disorders as primarily problems of brain chemicals, the emphasis on biology also led to an increasing dependence on psychiatric drugs, especially those that entered the market in the 1980s and 1990s. But the science behind nondrug treatments is getting stronger. And now, some researchers and doctors are looking again at how inconsistent, overly permissive or uncertain child-rearing styles might worsen children’s problems, and how certain therapies might help resolve those problems, in combination with drug therapy or without drugs.
     The psychotherapy techniques intended for the improvement of interactions between parents and children have been used mostly for children who suffer from attention disorders or who exhibit aggressive or defiant behavior. But recently, mental health professionals have been studying their use for families whose children suffer from depression or other mood problems.
     In a comprehensive review, the American Psychological Association urged in August that for childhood mental disorders, “in most cases,” nondrug treatment “be considered first,” including techniques that focus on parents’ skills, as well as enlisting teachers’ help. And in its just-completed guidelines, even the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, an organization whose members strongly favor drug treatment, recommends that children receive some form of talk therapy before being given drugs for moderate depression, a very common complaint. “We are at a point where families who bring in a child ought to get a Chinese menu of treatments that are backed by some evidence, including not only medication but psychosocial or family interventions,” said Dr. John March, a child psychiatrist at Duke University. “Not to do so when we know some of these therapies work is, in my opinion, simply unethical. Then let the family choose which one they want.”
     The argument over which is better, medication or psychotherapy intended to change the behavior of parents and children, is irrelevant in many cases. A child paralyzed by feelings of severe despair or anxiety, for example, often cannot begin to engage in any type of therapy without a period on medication to break the disabling mood. And many studies suggest that the combination of medication and talk therapy is significantly more effective, and safer, than either alone.

Drugs, Therapy or Both?
“It’s obvious that medication has been more effective than behavioral modification in treating the core symptoms of A.D.H.D., but behavioral treatments can produce real improvement, and for certain kids the combination of the two treatment appears to be best,” said Dr. Oscar Bukstein, a child psychiatrist at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine who is helping the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry write treatment guidelines. “Children with other behavior problems in addition to A.D.H.D., for instance, seem to do best with both treatments.”
      The Popczynskis found that a brand of family therapy by itself was sufficient to put Peter on track at school and at home. Their experience helps illustrate how a family can, in effect, treat a child’s psychiatric disorder — and for whom such an approach can be practical. One thing the family had going for it was location. When Peter’s mother began scouring the Internet for resources in the spring of 2003, she quickly learned that they lived only a few miles from the University of Buffalo, which runs one of the country’s most comprehensive behavioral modification programs.
     In a study involving 128 families, psychologists at the university had found that about a third of parents who completed the program saw enough improvement in their children that they had decided that medication was unnecessary. The other two-thirds put their children on stimulant medication at school but at doses significantly lower those typically prescribed, said William Pelham, a psychologist who is director of the Center for Children and Families at Buffalo and the senior author of the study. Eighty percent of the families who participated in the program, with follow-up parent training, decided that their children did not need medication at home. “Most parents seeking help for a child with a psychiatric disorder never hear about programs like this,” Dr. Pelham said. “The only option they’re given is medication. Now, it may be that the best treatment for that child is medication. But how do you know if you never try anything else?”
     Behavior modification for A.D.H.D. and for related problems, like habitually disruptive or defiant behavior, is based on a straightforward system of rewards and consequences. Parents reward every good or cooperative act they see: small things, like simply paying attention for a few moments, earn an “attaboy.” Completing homework without complaint might earn time on a Gameboy. Parents remove privileges, like television and playtime, or impose a “time out,” in response to defiance and other misbehavior. And they learn to ignore annoying but harmless attempts to win attention, like making weird noises, tapping or acting like a baby.

Tracking Behavior
These skills are hardly unknown to seasoned parents. But most also know that stress or anger, even when dealing with a child who has no serious problems, can sour the best instincts. That is why family-based programs insist that parents try to maintain a clear, neutral tone when instructing their children, or penalizing them. Bluntness, for example, is a virtue. Saying to a child, “Would you put your toys back in the box, please?” turns a command into a question. Saying, “Let’s put your toys back in the box,” implies collaboration. An unadorned “Put your toys back in the box” is clearer for everyone, psychologists say, especially so for a child who is highly distractible.
     However it is dressed up, family therapy like this teaches parents to provide what many critics say children these days are missing — discipline. But therapists make a careful distinction between corrective action and cruelty, between firmness and frostiness. Overly punitive parents increase the likelihood that a child will develop mood problems, some studies suggest. So parents learn not to become scolds, but to bring their children into line without demeaning them.
     In some programs, parents play-act situations in front of their peers, who critique the performance for emotional tone and the clarity of parents’ statements. As a result, the parents say, they become immediately more deliberate at home. “You end up constantly saying things like, ‘That’s not an appropriate behavior,’ using this unnatural language,” said Ms. Popczynski. “But the point is you don’t get into it with them. The first thing I noticed was that I wasn’t yelling all the time. The house got a lot quieter right away.”
     Their instructions to Peter and Scott became more precise, as well. Saying “Clean your room” is too vague and covers a half-dozen tasks, Roman Popczynski, the boys’ father, said. Peter might wonder where to start, or just decide it was too much to worry about, and give up, his father said. “Put your laundry in the hamper” is much more likely to get results, he said, and lead to the next clear step, like “Put your toys where they belong.”
     Multiple commands are also confounding: “Put away your crayons, clear away the table, and organize your homework, please” leaves a child wondering which to do first, and whether it is too much work to finish. “It overloads a kid, and then he feels like he’s failing, which only makes it worse,” said Mr. Popczynski, who is a UPS driver.

Starting Slowly
Like most who try to use behavior modification techniques, the Popczynskis relied on a daily report card to keep a running tally of Peter’s specific problem behaviors, like wandering attention, ignoring commands or defiance, and his efforts to correct them. For instance, at the beginning, Peter, then 7, would get a check mark every time he ignored more than two commands to do his homework, put away his toys or brush his teeth, but he would earn immediate praise if he got started. He received check marks when he slid off his chair at dinner, and earned approval if he stayed seated. At bedtime he accumulated marks if he pulled delay tactics. A tantrum resulted in instant punishment: a timeout of 5 to 10 minutes, shortened for good behavior. The report card was posted on the refrigerator.
     The Popczynskis started slowly. They measured how many marks Peter recorded in a normal day, and at first rewarded him if he reduced the number by even one: with an extra 15 minutes on Game Cube, for example. If he had more good days than bad ones over the course of a week, he got to choose from a bag of toys from the $1 store. Mr. and Ms. Popczynski continued to raise the standard, one checkmark at a time, until Peter hit zero consistently. “You want them to be able to succeed,” Mr. Popczynski said. “If you make it too hard, they’ll just give up, and so will you.”
     The Buffalo program is more comprehensive than most: psychologists run a summer camp here, employing the same principles, and, during the school year, regularly visit the teachers of every child in the program. Those teachers who agree to cooperate — most do — keep daily behavior report cards for the child too, in effect providing full coverage for a child’s every waking hour.
     Even then, the therapy is far from a silver bullet or an automatic replacement for treatment with Ritalin or other drugs that are routinely prescribed for attention disorder based on many studies showing their effectiveness. The constant tallying and reminding is too exhausting for some parents, especially those raising children on their own and juggling outside jobs. The Popczynskis did well in part because Peter’s difficulties were not severe, he was a capable student and his most disruptive behavior came out at home, Mr. Popczynski said. And the couple were able to share the many duties.
     Yet most parents in the program have found that their children do best with a combination of the medication and family treatment, albeit with significantly lower doses of the drugs than typically prescribed. Dawn Van de Wal, a single mother of three in Buffalo, said that over the last six months she has learned to contain and redirect the behavior of her exuberant 9-year-old, TJ, who has received a diagnosis of attention-deficit disorder. TJ can still become extremely frustrated when required to sit for long periods and concentrate on schoolwork, in the absence of his mother. “I still give him medication for school, because the fact is that right now he needs it to get through the day, but it’s a low dose,” Ms. Van de Wal said while TJ practiced headstands on the couch. “He doesn’t take it at home, though, and I plan to reduce the dosage in time as much as I can.” She added, “I don’t want him to look back and think the successes he’s had are all due to a drug.”
     In surveys and in dozens of interviews, most parents of children with psychiatric diagnoses say that they prefer to avoid using medications, if possible. It is not so easy to do. Insurers as a rule do not fully cover behavior modification therapies because they cost substantially more than drugs. The therapies require an enormous commitment from already overloaded parents, and some children are too severely troubled to respond. Many clinics do not even offer the programs. Psychiatrists, pediatricians and family doctors also tend to be more comfortable writing prescriptions for psychological reasons.

Shifting Perceptions
“It’s a tremendous relief for the physician to prescribe something, because these kids are very tough, and it feels horrible to sit there and not be able to help,” said Dr. Jennifer Mary Harris, a child psychiatrist practicing in Arlington, Mass., who has argued for more caution in using medication. At every level, she said, the mental health system strongly favors drug treatment.
     Yet the increasing number of studies that support family-based behavioral treatment is shifting perceptions. The largest study comparing medication with behavioral modification therapy for attention deficit problems, released in 1999, found that drugs were more effective in improving children’s ability to focus and keep still. But more than three-fourths of those treated without medication did well enough that their parents were able to keep them off drugs. And behavior therapy significantly improved children’s reading performance and their relations with parents and teachers when combined with medication, the study found.
     Researchers have also studied a different approach to behavior treatment, called cognitive behavior therapy. This approach engages children directly, and signs up parents as helpers. The children meet in groups to speak with a therapist, and learn elementary ways to identify and manage their anger, frustration and hopelessness. The parents learn in sessions how to reinforce those lessons at home. Studies find that up to three quarters of children who suffer from depression, anxiety or obsessive-compulsive disorder find relief of their symptoms with the help of this kind of therapy, which usually involves once-a-week sessions for a few months or so.
     Alicia Brzycki, a freelance editor who lives in Lawrenceville, N.J., said she noticed several years ago that her son was struggling more than usual with Tourette’s syndrome, a neurological disorder that causes involuntary facial tics and limb movements. The condition did not stop him from making friends or doing well in school, Ms. Brzycki said, “but I think it was first grade, I realized that he was stifling the tics at school, and it created this boomerang effect, and they came out like mad at home.”
     At the urging of a doctor, she took the boy, by then 9, to a program at Temple University in Philadelphia that specializes in treating childhood anxiety, which can exacerbate Tourette’s. Therapists teach children to identify the thoughts that amplify their worries, and then defuse or moderate them. Ms. Brzycki and her husband attended sessions, too, and Ms. Brzycki learned she was unwittingly contributing to her son’s anxiety. “The main thing that came out for me was that I was being overprotective,” she said. She added: “As a parent you want to protect a child from stressful situations, but by doing that you’re creating an avoidance mechanism that can turn a minuscule anxiety into the big, bad wolf. I had to loosen my grip” and let him face his fears.
     Now in fourth grade, her son has helped make a DVD about Tourette’s syndrome that he has shown to classmates. He has a close circle of friends, his mother said, and his tics seem to have diminished lately. But he sometimes still feels self-conscious and will talk himself through it, with his parents’ help if needed.
     Family-based therapy for a difficult childhood disorder is in almost all cases a way of life, not a weeks-long or months-long cure. If parents are serious about finding alternatives to drug treatments, experts say, they have to be willing to make difficult, and long lasting, changes to their behavior and the home environment, and to allow the child to progress at his or her own pace. “You can’t let your foot off the accelerator with something like behavioral modification for A.D.H.D., for example,” said Dr. Gabrielle Carlson, director of child and adolescent psychiatry at Stony Brook University School of Medicine, who used the treatment for her own son. “It’s like making changes in diet and exercise to lose weight: you don’t lose 20 pounds and then you’re home free and can eat ice cream and cake again. No, it’s a complete lifestyle change, and when you have a child with any of these psychiatric difficulties you have to stay on the program, for as long as it takes.”

 

Veteran Excused From Iraq
Lisa Chedekel, Hartford Courant, 12/22/2006

An Iraq war veteran from Waterbury who was called back to duty despite a diagnosis of severe post-traumatic stress disorder has been exempted from returning to combat and released from the military. Damian Fernandez, 24, who became suicidal and was hospitalized after receiving orders last month to prepare for another deployment to Iraq, has been excused from reporting to duty Jan. 14 and discharged altogether from the Army's ready reserve, according to a letter Thursday from the Army's Human Resources Command.

      After Fernandez's case was recently featured in The Courant, U.S. Sen. Christopher Dodd and Attorney General Richard Blumenthal asked the Army to grant him an exemption. Fernandez's mother, Mary Jane Fernandez, said she received the letter and a personal call Thursday from Col. Robert T. Marsh, commander of the U.S. Army Human Resources Command, notifying her that her son was being released from the military. She said she was relieved that Damian, who has been in a lockdown unit at the Northampton VA Medical Center in Massachusetts since receiving his call-up orders, would no longer have to worry about being sent back to war. "Now that he knows he'll never have to go back, maybe he can finally start to get better," Mary Jane Fernandez said of her son, who suffers from paranoia, flashbacks and depression and has been deemed 70 percent disabled with PTSD by the Department of Veterans Affairs.
     Fernandez is one of about 8,200 inactive soldiers who have been ordered back to duty involuntarily, under a controversial policy that allows the military to recall troops who have been discharged from the service but have time remaining on their enlistment contracts. Some of those being recalled have PTSD and other mental health problems, raising alarm among families and veterans' advocates.
     Army officials say they have no system for checking the medical status of inactive soldiers with the VA before sending out the call-up letters, because the VA and the military do not share medical records. Instead, the onus is on mentally ill or otherwise disabled soldiers to alert the military to their conditions and seek exemptions. The Army does not automatically exempt soldiers who have been deemed physically or mentally disabled by the VA, an Army spokesman said. Each case is reviewed individually to determine a veteran's fitness for duty. But Army officials have maintained that soldiers with serious psychiatric impairments are not being deployed. VA counselors in Connecticut have said that some inactive soldiers who have been diagnosed with PTSD and other combat-related problems have complied with the call-ups and returned to duty, and others, like Fernandez, have sought exemptions.
     While Fernandez's appeal was successful, the Army recently turned down an exemption request from another Connecticut soldier who was diagnosed with PTSD after serving in Iraq. Paul Sinsigalli of Andover, who has been deemed 10 percent disabled by the VA for PTSD and also suffers from a degenerative disk problem in his back, was granted a two-month delay in reporting for duty but now faces a Jan. 7 call-up.
     In a letter this week intervening on Fernandez's behalf, Dodd asked newly appointed Secretary of Defense Robert Gates to undertake a "thorough review" of the military's compliance with its own policies precluding the deployment of service members diagnosed with "debilitating" illnesses. The military recently issued new guidelines intended to restrict deployments of troops with unresolved psychiatric problems. Dodd also has asked Gates to try to resolve the "apparent disconnect" between the military and the VA in the handling of service members diagnosed with PTSD. The VA does not routinely share medical information about individual soldiers with the military because of confidentiality issues. But some veterans' advocates say the information should be shared for the reservists who are being ordered back to duty.



Parents Get Clean for Daughter

Mary Otto, Washington Post- 12//22/2006 (#5 of six articles)

It's Saturday, the day before Father's Day. At 6 a.m., Keith Cromwell gets a call. His father, Freddie Cromwell, steelworker, Vietnam vet, absentee dad, is dead. Cromwell struggles with a way to feel his way through this, sober. He has been clean for more than four months, living in a treatment program with other recovering men. He wants to honor his father but worries that his hard-won sobriety cannot withstand a funeral and a trip with his family.
      He heads out to Crownsville to see his fiancee, Stacy Coleman, who has just finished a parenting class at the Chrysalis House treatment center and has been keeping their 11-month-old daughter with her for increasing amounts of time. By the end of the month, Keyona is scheduled to go live with her at Chrysalis House. Amid the usual crush of Saturday visitors -- grandmas, little kids, boyfriends -- Cromwell tells Coleman he thinks he should catch a ride to South Carolina for his father's funeral. Friends and relations will be driving down. Coleman reminds herself she can't tell him what to do. "I'm powerless over other people," she says. But she tells him that once he gets with his family, he will start drinking, and then it will be over. He'll be back on drugs. "I worked too hard for this," she says angrily. "I'm not falling with you this time."
     After months of group and individual therapy, yoga, home cooking and meetings, she is no longer the needy waif he invited in off Baltimore's St. Paul Street. She seems much more a woman, with carefully cut and highlighted hair, flashing green eyes, hands on her hips. In a low and threatening tone, she warns Cromwell that if he uses drugs again, he will lose her. And Keyona.
     Cromwell doesn't go to the funeral. He decides it would be too risky. "The only people I could ride with was my uncles," he says. "They had their coolers packed." He calls Coleman, but she doesn't call back. Then he gets the news: She has walked out of her treatment program -- again. She lost her temper. She lost it so badly that she was sent to the emergency room for a psychiatric assessment. She was told she couldn't go back because of threatening behavior toward another woman at the house. Afterward, she recalls, she felt so desperate that she almost went out and used crack again. That old voice inside her said, "Pick up that rock and smoke. You'll feel better."
      But she didn't. Instead, she calmed herself down. She called the Family Recovery Program. And she called her mother. She got a ride to Essex out by the Port of Baltimore, to her mother's house, a small, comfortable white building with a green awning and perfect lawn. Inside waited her mother, a former dancer paralyzed in an accident, drug-free for 16 years, clean since the year she hit bottom and lost her old house and her daughter started using. Linda Coleman understood.
     A week later, Stacy Coleman is back in court with Cromwell. Shirley Baskerville, program director of Chrysalis House, slips into the bench next to them. "I got back, and you were gone!" Baskerville says softly. Coleman tries to tell the whole story, who said what to whom. "I was angry." Baskerville gently stops her. "I want to hear about you." Coleman recounts how she is starting over at a new treatment center, how she avoided using drugs. "So what looks bad turns out to be good," Baskerville says quietly. "You did not use. What you have now that you did not have before that discharge: You've got some tools. You picked up the phone. You know you can leave any place and go on." "I got a little upset . . . " Coleman says. "Because something wasn't going your way, which is your story," Baskerville finishes for her, dryly. "You have a tendency not to hear when things are not going your way. I'm not happy you left." "But," Coleman says, "I'm happy I didn't use."

 

Monthly Drug Limits Alcohol Craving
Amanda Vogt, Chicago Tribune- 12/22/2006

A once-monthly injectable medication that reduces an alcoholic's craving for liquor offers new hope to the estimated 18 million Americans who abuse or are dependent on the nation's favorite recreational drug. Approved by the Food and Drug Administration last spring, Vivitrol reduces a patient's craving for alcohol and subsequently the misery of alcohol withdrawal by resolving the chemical imbalance in the addicted patient's brain. Researchers found that patients treated over a six-month period with Vivitrol were more likely to maintain abstinence and achieve a significant reduction in heavy drinking and heavy drinking days.
     When combined with psychosocial treatment and the desire to stop drinking, addiction experts claim, Vivitrol provides a strong new tool in the battle against alcohol abuse and dependence. "We're not sure how it works on the brain, but Vivitrol goes to the core of the chemical imbalance, causing people to feel less ill from alcohol withdrawal and experience fewer cravings," said Dr. Abhin Singla, director of Addiction Treatment for Clinical Associates in Medicine in Joliet.
     Unlike most medications used to treat alcoholism, such as anti-depressants, Vivitrol does more than simply mask symptoms of the disease, Singla said. Vivitrol attacks the anxiety, cravings, irritability and insomnia that come with alcohol withdrawal, he said, adding that in his own practice he has seen a twofold increase in long-term sobriety among patients treated with the drug. "I have a 69-year-old male patient who used to be afraid to go to sleep at night because he would dream of a martini," Singla said, adding that the dreams stopped after he gave the patient a shot of Vivitrol. When the patient stopped having the dreams, the anxiety and insomnia over the temptation to drink provoked by the recurring dream went away, he said.
     One real advantage of the medication over traditional daily oral medications is that it is administered just once a month, so patients are less likely to stop taking it. And because more than 75 percent of people seeking treatment for alcoholic dependence relapse within the first year, addiction specialists are hopeful that Vivitrol will allow more people to maintain sobriety. "Patients need just one good day a month where they're strong enough to come in for the shot," Singla said. To be eligible for treatment, patients must be sober for at least a week and have the desire to stop drinking, he said. Researchers are also hopeful that the treatment's accessibility might persuade more alcoholics to seek treatment. Currently, only about 1 percent of alcoholics seek treatment.
     Jerri Kult, 50, of Fowler, Ind., decided it was time to stop drinking after she was hospitalized in 2000 with drinking-related, life-threatening stomach problems. "Because I was a functional alcoholic, I didn't want to admit that I had a problem or that I was drinking to self-medicate for depression," Kult said. "Admitting I had a problem meant I had to face my demons." Kult said Vivitrol allowed the alcohol-induced "fog" to lift from her mind so she could begin to see her life clearly. "There is no way the problem is going to go away, but with the desire to stop drinking and Vivitrol, I was able to start facing the demons that drove me to drink."
     Today the mother of five has been sober for three years. She no longer craves alcohol, although she admits she misses drinking. "I'll always want a drink as a means to escape my problems, but now, my old favorite, whiskey and water, tastes yucky to me," she said.
Vivitrol, Kult said, allowed her to control her craving for alcohol. And that, she said, "gave me a second chance at life."