Noteworthy News Articles on Mental Health Topics, January 21-26, 2007 By Linda Hopkins. 525 pp. Other Press. $35. Amy Bloom, New York Times- 1/21/2007 Asperger Syndrome A Defense In Court Ken Maguire, Associated Press- 1/21/2007 BOSTON -- Asperger syndrome has been used with some success by defendants such as 16-year-old John Odgren, whose alleged fatal stabbing of a fellow student in a high school bathroom has shocked a suburban town. Odgren is being held without bail, charged with first-degree murder in the death of James Alenson, a 15-year-old freshman who prosecutors said was stabbed at Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School on Friday morning. Odgren's attorney told a judge during arraignment Friday that his client has Asperger syndrome, a form of autism in which people can be quite intelligent but are unable to develop social skills. "These kids with Asperger's, particularly in the teenage years, see themselves on the outside looking in, and they don't know why," said Milton Altschuler, a Houston psychiatrist who diagnosed New York real estate heir Robert Durst as having the syndrome. A Texas jury acquitted Durst of murdering a neighbor in 2003. His attorneys told jurors about the Asperger diagnosis, and his case is among several in recent years in which Asperger syndrome has played a role. Missouri's appeals court in 2004 overturned a first-degree murder conviction on grounds that jurors weren't allowed to hear about James Boyd III's struggles with Asperger. Boyd, who was serving a life sentence, this month entered a no-contest plea to second-degree murder, and is scheduled to be sentenced in March. The Autism Society of America said there have been 22 criminal cases in the United States since 2002 in which convictions were avoided in part because of an Asperger syndrome diagnosis, The Boston Globe reported. Jeffrey Denner, a criminal defense attorney, said such a condition is more likely to result in a reduced sentence, rather than an acquittal. "The only defense in a criminal case is lack of criminal responsibility," Denner said Saturday. "Diminished capacity can take first-degree murder down to second-degree. It can generally reduce the crime itself to lesser crime." Denner said he "probably" has represented a client who has the syndrome because it's "not an uncommon condition. Usually people have a variety of different things." Odgren, of Princeton, pleaded not guilty. His attorney, Jonathan Shapiro, said Odgren has Asperger syndrome and has been taking medications for many years. Shapiro, who did not return a call Saturday, told the court on Friday that Odgren has a "serious disability." "The defendant has a history of fairly serious psychological diagnoses and has also suffered from hyperactivity dysfunction for many years," Shapiro said. A fight broke out at about 7:20 a.m. between Odgren and Alenson in a school bathroom and spilled out into the hallway, where the stabbing took place, Middlesex District Attorney Gerard Leone said. Authorities have not commented on a possible motive. Antidepressants May Raise Bone Risk Associated Press, 1/22/2005 CHICAGO -- The most popular pills for depression might substantially raise the risk for bone breaks in older people, a drawback that should be considered when the drugs are prescribed, Canadian researchers say. People aged 50 and older who took antidepressants, including Zoloft, Prozac and other top-sellers, faced double the risk of broken bones during five years of follow-up, compared with those who didn't use the drugs, the study found. Still, few of 5,008 people studied used the drugs and had fractures. While more rigorous research is needed to prove the link, the study provides the strongest evidence yet tying these drugs to fracture risks, said Dr. David Goltzman, an endocrinologist at McGill University in Montreal and one of the study authors. The study was part of ongoing osteoporosis research funded partly by the Canadian Institutes of Health Research and makers of osteoporosis drugs. Antidepressants have been linked with low blood pressure and dizziness leading to falls, which can increase risks for broken bones, but the researchers said they found fracture risks independent of those factors. Research in animals suggests that the pills might have a direct effect on bone cells, decreasing bone strength and size, Goltzman and colleagues said. The results have important public health implications since millions of people worldwide use the drugs and because osteoporosis, a bone-thinning disease that can lead to broken bones, can be so debilitating for older adults, Goltzman said. Still, the researchers said potential fracture risks should be balanced against the drugs' effectiveness at treating depression, which also can be debilitating. Depression affects about 10 percent of U.S. adults, or nearly 30 million people, including about 7 million aged 65 and older. Depression in older adults is often missed and untreated. ''If patients need these drugs, they should not be advised against taking them because of the fracture risk. They should however be warned about the risks,'' Goltzman said. The study appears in Monday's Archives of Internal Medicine. Some previous studies found similar results but did not adequately consider other factors, the researchers said. Dr. Gregory Asnis, director of an anxiety and depression clinic at Montefiore Medical Center in New York, said depression itself has been linked with low bone density, and it's possible the disease rather than the drugs could explain the findings. He said more rigorous research is needed. The drugs in question are called SSRIs or selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. These are generally the favored treatment for depression in many patients and their combined U.S. sales jumped 32 percent from 2000 to 2004, to more than $10.9 billion, the researchers said. The study tracked 5,008 Canadians aged 50 and older for five years. They included 137 people who reported using SSRI antidepressants daily. In this smaller group, 18 people or 13.5 percent had bone fractures during the follow-up, compared with 317 people with fractures or 6.5 percent among the 4,871 who didn't take the pills. Broken forearms, ankles, feet, hips and ribs were the most common fractures. Amy Sousa, a spokeswoman for Prozac maker Eli Lilly and Co., said the drug's label lists osteoporosis as a potential but rare side effect. Still, she said the new study was too small to establish any proof that SSRIs might cause fractures. Pfizer Inc., maker of Zoloft, issued a statement responding to the study and calling depression ''a serious problem in the elderly that is under-diagnosed and under-treated.'' ''SSRIs are an important option for the treatment of depression in this population. As the authors note, the risks must be balanced against the benefits gained by the treatment of depression,'' Pfizer said. On the Net: Archives: http://www.archinternmed.com Managing Stress, Under Duress Jennifer Huget, Washington Post- 1/22/2007 So, you think you're stressed? Get a load of this dream I had last week. In my waking hours, I thought I was getting along just fine, despite an abnormally heavy workload (lots of assignments -- including this article -- due at once) and the daily travails of a work-at-home mother of two. But I knew it was time to reassess when I woke, panting, from a nightmare in which: The following morning, after shaking off those baby frogs, I followed two of my therapist's most enduringly useful tips. First, I smiled big and said, out loud, "Hello, anxiety!" Confronting my stress on friendly terms makes it less ominous, says my doctor, psychologist Joe Brown, who practices in the Hartford, Conn., area. Plus, the ritual is so goofy it takes the edge off. Next, I made myself sit right down and get to work. Because, Dr. Brown helped me discover, procrastination is a huge source of my stress -- and stress-related behaviors such as cramming mini marshmallows into my maw by the fistful. I'm feeling much better now, in part because most of that stress-inducing pressure to produce is behind me. Most of the work's done -- except this story. But while I initially viewed the piece as part of the problem, in fact it ended up helping me place my stress-reduction strategies in context. In speaking with two stress-management gurus, I learned that there are three basic ways in which people try to beat back anxiety. They: Though countless people resort to taking drugs, getting drunk, lighting up or pigging out to relieve their stress, you'd be hard-pressed to find an expert who supports covering up anxiety in these ways. Most therapists suggest a combination approach: figure out exactly what's causing you stress, change what can be changed, and devise a plan for coping with the inevitable remainder. Jerilyn Ross, president and chief executive of the Ross Center for Anxiety and Related Disorders, located in the District, has been treating stressed-out people for a quarter of a century. Ross says a lot of stress derives from trying to meet expectations, real and imagined, external and self-imposed. The stress of managing all those expectations has been compounded in recent years by the difficulty of taking a real break from those pressures. Even on vacation, she notes, we take along our BlackBerrys and our laptops so that those who wish to impose their expectations on us can reach us at the beach. Instead of blindly accepting all those expectations, Ross suggests taking a hard look at them to determine whether any can be scrapped. "Ask yourself, 'Who are you really doing it for?' " Ross advises. "If you're volunteering in school, serving as a Cub Scout leader and coaching the sports team and you're feeling overwhelmed, ask yourself, 'Am I doing this for my child? Am I really enjoying it?' " If so, she says, carry on. But if you're doing those things to prove to others -- or to yourself -- what a great, involved parent you are, then maybe you can ditch some of those activities. Of course, not all stressful expectations are easily ditched: caring for an ailing parent or sick child, keeping up with the mortgage and navigating the ups and downs of a marriage are realities that must be dealt with. That's when you need some reliable stress-management strategies. Harvey Oaklander, a licensed clinical psychologist and principal of the Center for Stress Management in Arlington and Fairfax, recommends confronting stressors you can't eliminate, acknowledging their sources and working to achieve a healthier balance in your life. "It's okay to be ambitious and to work hard," he says. "But sometimes the balance between internal focus and external focus gets lost." Adopting a self-interested (as opposed to selfish) stance can help you determine which of your activities and commitments are really important to you, he says; pruning away those that are less important should result in less stress. How to do this? Ross suggests starting with a stress-management diary. "Note when you feel stressed. Where do you feel it? In your stomach? Your head? Note the time of day and the circumstance. Look at stress patterns." When you've got a sense of when and how your stress kicks in, ask yourself, 'What can I do to alleviate it?' Find something you like. Look at things that are easily accessible to you. Try a few different things and look at how you feel afterward." What activities work best? "Anything that makes us get away from our thoughts of what we're doing all the time," Ross suggests. Ross's personal favorite? "I sit down at the piano." For others, she says, "meditation is wonderful. Dance, music. Clubs, hobbies, musical instruments. Sudoku puzzles. You're using your mind, but [the activity is] mindless in terms of everything else in your life -- unless it becomes a competition." With stress-reduction tools, as with all things in life, moderation is key. If you find a cocktail relaxing at the end of a long day, that's fine, says Ross. "But two or three? Not so fine. You'll just get depressed," she says. You can even overdo physical exercise. "A lot of people find if they do some exercise, they feel good, so they figure if they do more, they'll feel better. They end up working out two hours a day -- and stressing out over it," Ross notes. Oaklander cautions against over-reliance on temporary fixes, whether alcohol or something else. People who turn to food for stress relief, for instance, "are comforting themselves with eating, not looking at themselves, not taking time out to think about what feels good in the long term versus the immediate gratification of eating," he says. Even exercise and relaxation techniques, by themselves, "don't really solve the problem," he says. "Exercise is great temporarily, but doesn't get rid of the stress. Exercise addicts siphon off the feeling of being tense, which makes them feel euphoric. But after it wears off, if they haven't faced the stress, it's going to continue." But don't ditch that treadmill. Oaklander says that working out has its place in his anti-stress prescription, which starts with staring the sources of your stress in the eye and taking active steps to minimize or eliminate them. Then he recommends what he calls "self-gardening techniques": getting enough rest, eating healthfully and, yes, getting some exercise. (Ross adds to the list: watch your caffeine intake, which can affect your anxiety level, and slow down on sugar, which can make you lethargic and less able to meet daily challenges.) "It's a matter of taking time out every day, to do nothing, if necessary," Oaklander says. "Just finding withdrawal time every day. You find balance that way." For many, finding time for stress release might feel like just one more big expectation. Women, in particular, feel guilty about doing anything for themselves, Ross says. "The fact is that if people take time to build in stress-relieving activities, they'll be more productive at work, more loving at home." So, Ross insists, "give yourself permission" to take time to do whatever you need to do to feel better. "You have to schedule it like anything else. And don't just pencil it in -- pen it in. Make an appointment." For quick stress-reduction at work, Ross suggests that you "build in a 10-minute walk. And if you can't build in a 10-minute walk, you should find a new job."
Janet Maslin, New York Times- 1/22/2007 IN MY BLOOD: Six Generations of Madness and Desire in an American Family By John Sedgwick Illustrated. 414 pages. HarperCollins. $25.95. John Sedgwick is part of a venerable Massachusetts family with connections to both George Washington’s Congress (the politically ambitious Theodore Sedgwick) and Andy Warhol’s Factory (Edie). He believes that this lineage has shaped his destiny. He cites manic depression as the trademark Sedgwick ailment, but his new book reveals other traits as well. The Sedgwicks have long struggled with their sense of privilege and worried as much about status as about sanity. Another part of the family curse has been an urge to aggrandize all things Sedgwick. Memoirists seem as common as suicides on the family tree. So John Sedgwick’s new book, “In My Blood,” runs the risk of seeming like a vanity project, though it proves to be legitimate and substantial. Mr. Sedgwick wrote two novels and three nonfiction books before readying himself to tackle the family’s story. It’s clear from the articulate, insightful “In My Blood” that his literary credentials are at least as interesting as his genetic ones, and that he can take on any subject he chooses. Many of his forebears have written primarily about their own lives. But “In My Blood” is about the whole Sedgwick pie; that term, by the way, describes the family’s unusual circular graveyard in Stockbridge, Mass. It is arranged so that children lie at the feet of their parents and generations form concentric circles. Mr. Sedgwick says that the Pie has always been a source of ridicule and embarrassment, but that sounds like hereditary Sedgwick disingenuousness. Given the pride of pedigree that looms large in “In My Blood,” the fame of the family plot cannot be such a liability. And it’s one more reason the family warrants a book-length biography. “In My Blood” has sent Mr. Sedgwick down a long trail of research, prompting him to study everything from early land dealings in Stockbridge between English settlers and Indians to the physiology of mental illness. Only occasionally does he strain for effect, as when he lies down on a bed in the family manse in Stockbridge and tries to imagine the loneliness of Pamela, Theodore Sedgwick’s long-suffering and ultimately despondent wife. Pamela was the daughter of a Williams, of the Williams College Williamses. And it is to this ancestor that Mr. Sedgwick traces the family’s first amped-up signs of hypomania. That frenzied behavior would show up in Henry Dwight Sedgwick, known as Harry. He was a son of Pamela and Theodore’s, and his manic business dealings made him the first (but hardly the last) Sedgwick sent to the then-new McLean asylum for help. Also in Harry’s generation was Catharine Maria Sedgwick, who became a successful 19th-century novelist and exemplified another family trait: self-absorption. “Beloved mother!” she wrote, upon the occasion of Pamela’s suicide. “The thought of what I suffered when you died thrills my soul!” John Sedgwick shows his strength as a memoirist by taking a realistic measure of such outbursts. “What she suffered?” he asks. He then goes on to write insightfully about the near-pathological clinginess that kept Catharine unmarried but unshakably attached to another of her brothers, Robert, and a self-appointed keeper of the Sedgwick flame. “As nuns are said to be brides of Christ,” he writes, “she was a bride of the family.” John Sedgwick is a great-great-grandson of Harry, and a grandson of Harry III, who was known as Babbo. Babbo alone wrote 38 books (and immortalized a childhood memory of looking up at the family seamstress but realizing that, for reasons of class, he ought to be looking down). Born in 1861 Babbo also lived through a pivotal period in the family’s fortunes, as the Sedgwicks’ regional predominance was suddenly eclipsed by the newly rich tycoons of the Gilded Age, some of whom built vast houses in nearby Lenox. Faced with a likely downward trajectory, some Sedgwicks found it opportune to marry up. John’s father, R. Minturn Sedgwick, was known as Duke. His first marriage (John is a child of his second) was to Helen Peabody, daughter of the Rev. Endicott Peabody, who founded the Groton School. Future Sedgwicks would thus go to Groton whether it suited them or not, and John recalls the strange sensation of feeling that the faculty knew more about him than he knew about himself. He also recalls how dearly his otherwise distant father — a man who each morning did the Royal Canadian Mounties’ calisthenics to the tune of “Ol’ Man River” — cherished his old boarding-school blazer. When John Sedgwick published his first novel in 2000, Publishers Weekly gratuitously noted, “F.Y.I.: Sedgwick’s family includes Warhol groupie Edie Sedgwick and actress Kyra Sedgwick.” But Kyra plays no role in “In My Blood,” and Edie’s famous meltdown is put in perspective. It was not an isolated event. Edie was one of three siblings who killed themselves and the surviving one, Saucie, called their father, Francis, a “filthy old creep” and said he had made a pass at her. When Francis, the most loathsome Sedgwick in this book, met Andy Warhol, “the clash of cultures was so complete, there was no clash at all, for there was no possible point of contact,” John Sedgwick writes. “It was like two armies that have mistakenly massed for battles on different continents.” “In My Blood” ultimately arrives at a delicate question: How do its author’s troubles, including a breakdown in 2000 (at the age of 46) and subsequent divorce, fit into the family’s big picture? Its answer is melodramatic. (“I was a Sedgwick, guilty as charged,” he writes. “I could never peer into my own soul and find nothing, for my soul is not entirely my own.”) But by and large, despite occasional overreaching, Mr. Sedgwick provides a clear, incisive view of a complicated family. He needn’t claim that “the Sedgwick story is the story of America” to make it feel that way.
His parents had argued to the state agency that their son needed better services than he had received from the Wachusett Regional School District, which had placed him in an alternative school in Fitchburg. At that school, he was so miserable he came home and "often spent evenings wrapped in a blanket, crying," one of his parents testified. The state agreed that the placement was not appropriate and ordered Wachusett to pay for Odgren's attendance at a smaller program in Belmont that his parents had found. The state report portrays a complex picture of Odgren, who has been charged with first-degree murder in the killing of 15-year-old James F. Alenson, a freshman at Lincoln-Sudbury. Odgren, 16, is depicted at age 12 as a highly intelligent but troubled preadolescent with poor social skills. He has a hyperactivity disorder and Asperger's disorder, a mild form of autism. Several specialists familiar with Asperger's have said that those with the condition are not more prone to violence than others. The report, giving an overall description, said that Odgren became aggressive at times when confused or ordered to do work, but did not offer details other than to say he was suspended three times for physical aggression within a two-month period at Caldwell Alternative School in Fitchburg. His parents, at the same time, were expressing concern for his physical and emotional safety at Caldwell, whose principal declined to comment. The report made one mention of him having "explosive episodes" in fall 2002 in Wachusett's special education program, but did not detail those. Wachusett school officials declined to comment about Odgren, citing student confidentiality. Odgren's lawyer, Jonathan Shapiro, also declined to comment. A pseudonym was used to describe Odgren in the state agency's report on the case; a source with knowledge of the decision confirmed that the boy described in the report was Odgren. Lincoln Waterhouse, Wachusett's special education coordinator, was directly involved with Odgren's case in 2002 and 2003. He declined to comment about Odgren during a brief telephone interview. Waterhouse, according to the state report, selected the Caldwell school for Odgren and testified that he thought the placement provided enough support to help the boy succeed. "My heart goes out to everybody involved," he said of the stabbing. Odgren, according to the state report, was diagnosed with depression and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder in 2000 and later placed in a special education program at a Wachusett elementary school. In 2002, in the sixth grade, he was diagnosed with Asperger's. His parents complained that he needed training in social skills, according to the state report, but never received it. Shortly after beginning seventh grade in a Wachusett school, his performance deteriorated, according to the report, and the school system placed him at Caldwell Alternative School in Fitchburg for students in grades 7 to 12. The school serves students with emotional and behavioral problems and learning disabilities But he floundered at Caldwell, where the other students "teased, used foul and aggressive language, and were rude and disrespectful to each other and to the teacher," according to the report. Odgren's behavior grew more troubling, resulting in the suspensions and his failing three subjects. In March 2003, his parents took him out of Caldwell and placed him at Pathways Academy in a special education program at McLean Hospital in Belmont for students ages 12 and 13. There, his behavior dramatically improved, the report stated. Odgren told his parents the program was "like heaven." His father testified that after about six weeks at Pathways, Odgren "demonstrated spontaneous empathy for the first time." It is unknown whether Odgren went directly from Pathways to Lincoln-Sudbury and whether school officials were made aware of the state report that described a history of physical aggression. Beginning this school year, he was a sophomore at Lincoln-Sudbury enrolled in Great Opportunities, a program for students with significant emotional and/or psychiatric disabilities. Lincoln-Sudbury officials have said they had no knowledge of any violent behavior involving Odgren. John M. Ritchie, Lincoln-Sudbury regional's principal and superintendent, told reporters yesterday that the school's security policy and how it applies to Great Opportunities would probably be reviewed. "We can't explain everything at once when we're in the middle of still grieving," Ritchie said. According to the state's report, Odgren needed to be in an educational environment where he would not be threatened and would "be free from peers who tease, bully, or have behaviorally based disorders." In the days after the stabbing, Lincoln-Sudbury students told reporters that Odgren had been teased by schoolmates for wearing a trench coat in the halls like the killers in Columbine High School. Police have not said why Odgren allegedly stabbed Alenson, who was described as shy and sweet, in a boy's bathroom. Odgren's mother , Dorothy, a nurse at a Worcester clinic, is a fierce advocate for her son, said Kathryn Mattison, a Princeton child and family therapist. Dorothy Odgren is a fixture at area conferences on Asperger's, she said, adding that she met Dorothy Odgren when she was a school nurse at Princeton's Thomas Prince Elementary School, which Mattison's children attended. "She's a model parent in terms of trying to understand her son," Mattison said. "I'm putting myself in their position. What would I have done differently? I don't think I would have done anything differently." Yesterday, students, police, grief counselors, and parents gathered at the high school for the first time since the slaying. The students broke into spontaneous applause in the school auditorium, showing love for the school, Ritchie said. But the mood of the day was somber, Ritchie said. School officials kept accessible the spot in the hallway where Alenson bled after the stabbing. Officials didn't want the hallway to be a "taboo zone," and school staff was stationed in the area to comfort students or accompany them into the restroom where Alenson was stabbed if they needed to see it.
Yet in the real world, people with amnesia live in a mental universe at least as strange as fiction: new research suggests that they are marooned in the present, as helpless at imagining future experiences as they are at retrieving old ones. The new Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, is the first rigorous test of how brain-injured people with amnesia mentally inhabit imaginary scenes. The results suggest that to the brain, remembered experience and imagined experience are reflections from the same mirror, rich inner worlds animated by almost identical neural networks. The findings provide a glimpse into what it might mean to truly live in the moment. And they feed a continuing debate about memory. Some researchers say that the brain region central to forming new memories — the hippocampus, a sliver of tissue deep in the brain where the day’s memories are registered — is not necessary for retrieving those experiences, once they have been consolidated elsewhere in the brain. Others, including the authors of the new study, contend that the hippocampus in fact provides the stage on which inner mental dramas are set. Without its help only the props remain — loose facts, people’s names, snippets from favorite songs: the players without the play. “The study suggests that these patients have fragments, the brick and mortar to create new scenarios, but their descriptions lack coherence because they don’t have the scaffolding the hippocampus provides,” said Morris Moscovitch, a neuroscientist at the University of Toronto, who was not involved in the study. “The other interpretation is they don’t have enough brick and mortar to put it all together.” The researchers, led by Eleanor Maguire and Demis Hassabis of University College London, instructed five men with severe hippocampus injuries to imagine themselves in familiar scenes, like a museum, a pub and a beach. People with this type of injury, often from oxygen deprivation due to a heart attack, can seem in conversation to be as mentally adept as the next person — until it becomes clear they have forgotten comments made only moments before. The men, urged to fill out the scenes with imagined detail, described what they could. The researchers analyzed transcripts of their answers, carefully scoring each one for personal touches: projected emotions, sensations and actions. They found that compared with similar descriptions produced by adults without brain injuries, the five men’s imagined scenes were flat, barren of personal dimension. “We think that what the hippocampus provides is a scaffold for experience and imagination, and that scaffold is spatial,” Dr. Maguire said. The brain’s record of physical space, she said, appears to be necessary to infuse a scene with rich personal dimension. Other researchers said the dulling of imagination could reflect a more fundamental dynamic. The brain may naturally draw on previous experiences to inform imaginary scenes, said Peter J. Bayley, a neuroscientist at the University of California, San Diego. If so, the only such memories accessible to the men might have been childhood scenes, consolidated over the years outside the hippocampus, which would not likely provide rich detail to outfit, say, an imaginary pub. “The differences between the two groups may reflect the difficulty the patients are having retrieving information from the recent past,” Dr. Bayley said. He and other researchers have previously reported on patients with hippocampus damage who can recall childhood memories in the same kind of detail almost everyone else does. The distinctions the brain makes between loose facts and the richer, wraparound ambience of an experience are important to understanding memory, because people with healthy brain function tend to recall the gist of experience, whereas those with hippocampus damage can often recollect discrete facts with more accuracy. The difference is partly reflected in the study participants’ words. When asked to envision an open-air market, one brain-injured man said: “I see people, very many people. Most of all ... um ... not many men, all I see are young ladies. And basically they are all in a hurry.” A participant without brain injury responded: “Right, so on either side of me I’ve got stalls and it’s noisy. We have a person on my right who is selling fruit and veg, and they’re telling us that bananas are on special offer this week, and they’re shouting about that.” In an essay published this month in the journal Nature, two Harvard researchers, Daniel L. Schacter and Donna Rose Addis, contend that this ability to richly imagine scenes, whether entirely dependent on the hippocampus or not, is perhaps the most promising frontier for memory research. “For almost 100 years, memory has been the object of experimental studies that have focused almost exclusively on its role in preserving and recovering the past,” they wrote. “We think it’s time to try to understand some of memory’s errors by looking to the future.” Children's Psychiatric Hospital Staff Air Concerns Colin Poitras, Hartford Courant- 1/24/2007 MIDDLETOWN -- Management problems at the state's psychiatric hospital for children are so severe that staff Tuesday urged legislators to create an independent oversight board to initiate badly needed reforms. A coalition of employees from Riverview Hospital said children are suffering because of inconsistent leadership, poor communication and the lack of clearly defined treatment plans. "All we're doing right now is putting out fires," said Bob Atkins, a member of the hospital's line staff who helps manage the seriously disturbed children. "The line staff doesn't participate in treatment meetings. The line staff is not given the power or the training to do our jobs." The staff members addressed their concerns to members of the legislature's select committee on children, who toured the 97-bed facility early Tuesday and then held a rare, off-Capitol-grounds public hearing later in the day. The committee heard similar complaints from workers a year ago and scheduled Tuesday's hearing to get an update. Little appears to have changed. Meanwhile, state taxpayers continue paying for children's stays at the hospital at an average cost estimated by the child advocate at $585,000 per child per year. Sen. Edward Meyer, D-Guilford and co-chair of the committee, said he was very disturbed by what he heard. While Meyer stopped short of saying he would propose legislation to create an oversight board, he said he was particularly concerned with the lack of leadership. The hospital is operating without a full-time superintendent or medical director. Former Superintendent Melodie Peet left in October after the unionized staff passed a no-confidence vote. Dr. Lesley Siegel, the medical director, also left last fall. The instability at the top has been exacerbated by the fact that the hospital's parent agency, the Department of Children and Families, is losing its commissioner, Darlene Dunbar, later this year. Dunbar was not reappointed by Gov. M. Jodi Rell, who is searching for a replacement. "We're not going to have accountability until we have all the executives in place," Meyer said. The workers' sentiments Tuesday were reinforced by the release of a DCF report on the facility that identified many of the same problems and more. The 52-page report was the result of a seven-month critical review of the facility conducted by DCF, the state Office of the Child Advocate and a federal court official monitoring DCF operations. It described a hospital where seriously ill, confused and scared children are locked in units while staff spend most of their time trying to maintain control. The resulting confusion, the report said, contributes to children acting out, staying in the hospital longer and failing to abide by rules in other facilities or group homes when they are discharged. Riverview Hospital was once the foremost hospital in the state for children aged 5 to 18 with serious emotional problems. But the hospital has been in turmoil of late, as DCF dramatically overhauls the facility to adopt the latest standards of care and meet changing needs of troubled kids. One DCF official described the hospital as "reinventing itself." But the change hasn't been easy. Hospital staff have been particularly concerned about what they believe is a growing population of female juvenile delinquents sent to the hospital for mental health treatment. While DCF administrators say the girls belong at Riverview because many are traumatized from years of abuse or neglect, staff feel the hospital is not equipped to handle such a volatile group and the girls' tendency to act out disrupts therapy sessions for more seriously ill kids. Dunbar expressed confidence Tuesday that the hospital will endure its growth and change and re-emerge as a national leader in adolescent care. But she admitted her agency is having trouble finding a new superintendent. A leading candidate backed out a few days ago and no other candidates have come forward. In an unintended example of communication problems between hospital administrators and staff Tuesday, Dunbar presented legislators with a strategic plan of reforms for the hospital in the coming year - a plan administration officials said had already been disclosed to staff. Staff present at Tuesday's meeting were incredulous when they received the handout. Despite the administration's representation that they had been briefed on the report, staff said they had never seen it. Spot in Brain May Control Smoking Urge Associated Press, 1/25/2007 WASHINGTON -- Damage to a silver dollar-sized spot deep in the brain seems to wipe out the urge to smoke, a surprising discovery that may shed important new light on addiction. The research was inspired by a stroke survivor who claimed he simply forgot his two-pack-a-day addiction -- no cravings, no nicotine patches, not even a conscious desire to quit. ''The quitting is like a light switch that went off,'' said Dr. Antoine Bechara of the University of Southern California, who scanned the brains of 69 smokers and ex-smokers to pinpoint the region involved. ''This is very striking.'' Clearly brain damage isn't a treatment option for people struggling to kick the habit. But the finding, reported in Friday's edition of the journal Science, does point scientists toward new ways to develop anti-smoking aids by targeting this little-known brain region called the insula. And it sparked excitement among addiction specialists who expect the insula to play a key role in other addictions, too. ''It's a fantastic paper, it's a fantastic finding,'' said Dr. Nora Volkow, director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse and a longtime investigator of the brain's addiction pathways. ''What this study shows unequivocally is the insula is a key structure in the brain for perceiving the urges to take the drug,'' urges that are ''the backbone of the addiction,'' Volkow added. Why? The insula appears to be where the brain turns physical reactions into feelings, such as feeling anxious when your heart speeds up. When those reactions are caused by a particular substance, the insula may act like sort of a headquarters for cravings. Some 44 million Americans smoke, and the government says more than 400,000 a year die of smoking-related illnesses. Declines in smoking have slowed in recent years, making it unlikely that the nation will reach a public health goal of reducing the rate to 12 percent by 2010. Nicotine is one of the most addictive substances known, and it's common for smokers to suffer repeated relapses when they try to quit. So imagine Bechara's surprise at hearing a patient he code-named ''Nathan'' note nonchalantly that ''my body forgot the urge to smoke'' right after his stroke. At the time, Bechara was at the University of Iowa studying the effects of certain types of brain damage after strokes or other injury. While Nathan was hospitalized, stroke specialists sent his information to that brain registry. He was 38, had smoked since 14, said he enjoyed it and had had no intention to quit. But his last puff was the night before his stroke. His surprised wife said he never even asked for a smoke while in the hospital. It's not unusual for a health scare to prompt an attempt at quitting. ''That's the quitting that's not as interesting,'' Bechara said. Instead, Nathan experienced what Bechara calls a ''disruption of smoking addiction,'' and he wanted to know why. Bechara and colleagues culled their brain-damage registry for 69 patients who had smoked regularly before their injuries. Nineteen, including Nathan, had damage to the insula. Thirteen of the insula-damaged patients had quit smoking, 12 of them super-easily: They quit within a day of the brain injury, and reported neither smoking nor even feeling the urge since then. Of the remaining 50 patients with damage in other brain regions, 19 quit smoking but only four met the broken-addiction criteria. If Bechara's findings are validated, they suggest that developing drugs that target the insula might help smokers quit. There are nicotine receptors in the insula, meaning it should be possible to create a nicotine-specific drug, Bechara said -- albeit years from now. More immediately, NIDA's Volkow wants to try a different experiment: Scientists can temporarily alter function of certain brain regions with pulses of magnetic energy, called ''transcranial magnetic stimulation.'' She wants to see if it's possible to focus such magnetic pulses on the insula, and thus verify its role. Other neurologic functions are known to be involved with addiction, too, such as the brain's ''reward'' or pleasure pathways. The insula discovery doesn't contradict that work, but adds another layer to how addiction grips the brain, Bechara said.
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