Noteworthy News Articles on Mental Health Topics, February 22-31, 2008 Troubled Accusers The first complaints to the health department were filed in 1987 by a brother and sister from Albany, N.Y., who claimed that Reardon had sexually molested them from 1956 to 1961. The health department turned to the Institute of Living to evaluate Reardon. The Hartford-based psychiatric hospital has a national reputation for diagnosing and treating pedophilia. At the time, the institute was receiving referrals from the Roman Catholic Church to look into allegations surfacing about priests abusing children. Reardon was examined twice by Zeman, a top forensic psychiatrist at the institute, first in 1988 and again in 1990-91, after a third accuser came forward. Zeman also requested a second opinion from his colleague, Leslie M. Lothstein, a psychologist known nationally for his work with sex offenders. Zeman and Lothstein did not have the benefit of hindsight when Reardon was sitting in their offices two decades ago. The priest-sex scandal was only beginning to crack the edges of the Catholic Church, and it was still fairly unthinkable to many that a priest or a doctor would be a serial child molester. Moreover, Reardon would be dead nine years before police uncovered the photographic evidence in his house at 155 Griswold Drive in West Hartford that would transform the allegations into something more than the doctor's word against that of his young, and frequently troubled, patients. But what they did have was a handful of chilling and remarkably similar stories that have been repeated over and over again since the discovery of the pornographic pictures. The problem, said Smith, the Avon lawyer, was that when the earliest complaints were filed, the experts discounted the accusers. Smith said it was easy to dismiss the accusers as damaged because typically, they were. Many of Reardon's victims came from troubled homes or were disfigured by anomalies in their sex organs. Pedophiles, she said, often pick their victims that way. If they didn't have emotional issues before they met Reardon, many developed problems in the wake of the alleged abuse, she said. In interviews and legal papers, accusers have described lives disrupted or destroyed by memories of their encounters with Reardon. "One of the problems is that perpetrators are expert at choosing their victims," Smith said. "They pick children who can come from dysfunctional backgrounds, who have problems of self-esteem." The institute's assessments of sex offenders have been at the center of controversy before. During the priest abuse scandal, leaders of the Catholic Church said they often relied on the institute's expertise to decide whether to return accused priests to parish work. Institute officials fired back, saying the church had concealed information and disregarded warnings that the hospital's evaluations should not be used to determine a priest's fitness to continue working. Last week, Schwartz made a similar argument in explaining the clinicians' findings in the Reardon case. "They warned that inconclusive findings should not be used to exonerate Dr. Reardon of the allegations against him," Schwartz said, in his written statement. The Accusers' Words Among the documents produced by the psychiatric institute as part of the Reardon case, a 17-page report by Lothstein dated April 21, 1991, contains the most detail. During the course of his examination, in addition to interviewing Reardon, Lothstein interviewed three of the doctor's accusers. One, a woman who complained to the health department in 1989, came from a troubled family and was exposed to sex and incest before she met Reardon, the report says. She called Reardon "Doc" and detailed how — as a young teenager — she felt ambivalent about her ongoing contact with Reardon. Lothstein concluded that "the overall picture is of a young woman with an extremely chaotic family life who, prior to having any contact with Dr. Reardon, was primed sexually at a very early age. In her framework, all men are potential molesters, abusers and rapists." "Her story, while convincing because of its detail, must be understood within the framework of her overstimulated childhood self," he wrote. Another woman, the sister from Albany who filed one of the first complaints, told Lothstein she was in kindergarten when Reardon enlisted her to participate in one of his so-called growth studies. Reardon was a student at Albany Medical College and lived next door. Her mother befriended Reardon, who offered to provide medical care to her children in their home. Later, he enlisted the girl and her brother to participate in a study of their sexual development. "She recalls that he touched her genitals and masturbated her," Lothstein wrote. Lothstein said the woman recalled being asked by Reardon to move her hips when it started to feel good. "She recalls feeling disgusted," Lothstein's report continues. Lothstein described her as "a grim, sad, tense, angry and schizoid woman" whose story about Reardon "seemed confused." The third alleged victim, the brother from Albany, grew up to become a lawyer with a practice that included pursuing child abuse cases. He told Lothstein that his sexual encounters with Reardon continued from the time he was about 8 until he was 14 or 15 and became interested in girls. The man "was very convincing," Lothstein wrote in his report to the state, saying the alleged victim was able to describe intimate details of Reardon's anatomy — including an appendix scar and very specific descriptions of unique features on his penis and backside. When Lothstein asked Reardon how the man was able to describe him in such great detail, Reardon told Lothstein that he and his young accuser had gone camping together and bathed nude. "Dr. Reardon was able to provide some explanations as to how [the accuser] could describe his genitals and anus with such precision related to camping experiences in which nude bathing was evident," Lothstein wrote in his report. Lothstein in his 1991 report called the male accuser "believable," but concluded: "where the ultimate truth lies is a matter of conjecture." By today's standards, Lothstein acknowledged that nude swimming among boys and men would be considered inappropriate. But in the 1950s and '60s when the incident occurred, he said in written answers, such behavior "did not suggest the red flag they would today." Reardon's Denials Lothstein's examination of Reardon focused sharply on the question of sexual attraction. The endocrinologist told Lothstein about his early sexual experiences and said that he frequently dated women, many — for reasons not explained — named Mary. "He grew to be a tall healthy adult who played high school football and dated a cheerleader," Lothstein wrote. Reardon told Lothstein that he had no interest in children or animals and that his sexual fantasies involved undressing a woman or picturing a woman taking a bath, citing a scene from the 1947 romance film "Forever Amber." Reardon told Lothstein that he was engaged once, to another "Mary," but that she left him for another man. After that, Reardon told Lothstein, he never married because he felt he never had enough money. Reardon, according to the report, said the claims of his accusers were most likely the result of "nosocomial sexual abuse," in which a patient interprets a legitimate medical procedure or examination as a form of molestation. To support that claim, Reardon brought Lothstein a journal article citing the risk that children who are photographed by physicians for legitimate medical reasons will later distort the experience and interpret it as sexual abuse. During the course of the examination, Reardon showed Lothstein photographs he said he had taken during his research. Lothstein wrote that he was impressed that Reardon had obtained informed consent from parents before taking the photos. He also said the pictures he reviewed "are not inconsistent with those obtained in medical photography for the purposes of teaching." Lothstein, in his report, had some criticisms of Reardon, saying his "test results suggested an obsessive personality with compulsive and grandiose features." He said Reardon "seemed unaware of the impact he might have on others." But he also concluded that Reardon "had good social relationships outside of his medical practice and that he is probably well liked by his peers." Lothstein said there was evidence that anxiety was interfering with Reardon's current mental status, though in a follow-up report, Zeman said he believed Reardon's stress was "secondary to the stress which he is experiencing ... [over] the allegations which have been brought against him." Lothstein said two young men Reardon had taken into his home said he had never molested them. He also said Reardon offered to make the women he dated available to investigators. Faced with sharply different accounts told by Reardon and his accusers, Lothstein acknowledged in his report that it was hard to unravel the truth. Lothstein conceded that "there is not enough solid evidence to make a statement beyond saying that it is impossible to determine who is telling the truth." "In no way," the psychologist went on, "should this report be read that Dr. Reardon is innocent of the charges against him. Neither should it be construed that the accusers are simply lying and distorting the truth." Lothstein does, however, make a clear statement of his opinion as to whether or not Reardon had a diagnosable mental illness: "Dr. Reardon," he wrote, "is not a pedophile." Zeman, in a 1991 letter to state health officials that echoed both Lothstein's conclusion and the results of his own 1988 examination, said that Reardon could "practice his medical specialty with reasonable skill and safety." With the reports from Zeman and Lothstein in hand, health department investigators decided not to pursue the sexual abuse complaints and Reardon continued practicing at St. Francis. Then, in 1993, a fourth alleged victim filed a complaint about Reardon with the Hartford County Medical Association. Zeman then changed his opinion. "The complaint … when considered along with the three past complaints, raises major concerns from my perspective as to Dr. Reardon's ability to practice his medical specialty with reasonable skill and safety," Zeman wrote in a letter to the county medical association, which at the time also had a role in disciplining doctors. Only then did the state open disciplinary hearings aimed at revoking Reardon's license to practice medicine, sparking media attention. At those hearings, Zeman testified that Reardon was indeed a pedophile. Doctors Duped It is unclear whether state health officials relied solely on the Institute of Living experts when they decided not to pursue the complaints against Reardon filed in 1987 and 1989. The department says it destroyed all paperwork related to the Reardon case under a statewide policy of systematic records destruction. And health department investigators who worked on the case at the time declined to discuss the case, instead issuing a statement through a department spokesman. "The department's ability to provide full and accurate information about this investigation is very limited," health department spokesman William Gerrish said in the statement. "Those involved have only vague recollections and could only speculate on events and their circumstances that occurred over fifteen years ago." Doctors at the Institute of Living say they were duped. "In retrospect, Dr. Reardon was obviously an accomplished liar who was able to deceive two very competent forensic experts," Schwartz said in a statement. In his written answers to questions from The Courant, Zeman acknowledged that Reardon's denials weighed heavily in his 1988 and 1991 conclusions that the doctor was not a pedophile. Without a specific diagnosis of a sexual disorder, Zeman says now, he could not conclude that it was unsafe for Reardon to practice. "The diagnosis of pedophilia, which encompasses a broad range of sexual misconduct with children, would be required to reach a finding of impairment and therefore inability to practice medicine safely," Zeman wrote. "Therefore, the question as to whether Dr. Reardon could be diagnosed as a pedophile was central to the charge from the [health] department." Officials at St. Francis said they were aware of the psychiatric reports, but declined to comment further. The health department hearings ended after Reardon retired from St. Francis in 1993. Two years later, he signed an order promising never to practice medicine again. Reardon died from heart failure and smoking-related lung disease in September 1998 and it appeared that any evidence would remain buried with him. — until West Hartford police found the hidden cache. Now, the accusers who have come forward since the discovery of the photographic evidence — especially some of those whose abuse allegedly occurred after the first complaint was filed in 1987 — wonder if Reardon could have been stopped sooner. Those accusers, five boys and a girl now in their late 20s and early 30s, say Reardon fondled them and photographed them naked in sexually provocative positions from 1987 to 1993 — the same period as the investigations of Reardon were taking place. "It adds up to a human tragedy," Smith said Daring to Think Differently About Schizophrenia Alex Berenson, New York Times- 2/24/2008 NORTH WALES, Pa. — SCIENTISTS who develop drugs are familiar with disappointment — brilliant theories that don’t pan out or promising compounds derailed by unexpected side effects. They are accustomed to small steps and wrong turns, to failure after failure — until, in a moment, with hard work, brainpower and a lot of luck, all those little failures turn into one big success. For Darryle D. Schoepp, that moment came one evening in October 2006, while he was seated at his desk in Indianapolis. At the time, he was overseeing early-stage neuroscience research at Eli Lilly & Company and colleagues had just given him the results from a human trial of a new schizophrenia drug that worked differently than all other treatments. From the start, their work had been a long shot. Schizophrenia is notoriously difficult to treat, and Lilly’s drug — known only as LY2140023 — relied on a promising but unproved theory about how to combat the disorder. When Dr. Schoepp saw the results, he leapt up in excitement. The drug had reduced schizophrenic symptoms, validating the efforts of hundreds of scientists, inside and outside of Lilly, who had labored together for almost two decades trying to unravel the disorder’s biological underpinnings. The trial results were a major breakthrough in neuroscience, says Dr. Thomas R. Insel, director of the National Institute of Mental Health. For 50 years, all medicines for the disease had worked the same way — until Dr. Schoepp and other scientists took a different path. “This drug really looks like it’s quite a different animal,” Dr. Insel says. “This is actually pretty innovative.” Dr. Schoepp and other scientists had focused their attention on the way that glutamate, a powerful neurotransmitter, tied together the brain’s most complex circuits. Every other schizophrenia drug now on the market aims at a different neurotransmitter, dopamine. The Lilly results have fueled a wave of pharmaceutical industry research into glutamate. Companies are searching for new treatments, not just for schizophrenia, but also for depression and Alzheimer’s disease and other unseen demons of the brain that torment tens of millions of people worldwide. Driving the industry’s interest is the huge market for drugs for brain and psychiatric diseases. Worldwide sales total almost $50 billion annually, even though existing medicines have moderate efficacy and have side effects that range from reduced libido to diabetes. The glutamate researchers warn that their quest for new treatments for schizophrenia is far from complete. The results of the Lilly trial covered only 196 patients and must be validated by much larger trials, the last of which may not be finished until at least 2011. Other glutamate drugs are even further away from approval. And even if the drugs win that approval, they may be viewed skeptically by doctors who have been disappointed by side effects in other drugs that were once been hailed as breakthroughs. Still, for Dr. Schoepp, the drug’s progress so far is cause for celebration — and relief. “I don’t think people appreciate how much money, time and good technical research goes into what we do,” he says. “Sometimes, people think the idea is the thing. I think the idea can be the easy part.” Lilly continues to develop LY2140023 and has begun a trial of 870 patients that is scheduled to be completed in January 2009. But Dr. Schoepp is no longer involved in its development. He left Lilly in April to become senior vice president and head of neuroscience research at Merck, where he oversees a division of 300 researchers and support staff members. Dr. Schoepp’s new base is a modest office on the top floor of a four-story Merck building here in North Wales, north of Philadelphia. He has a view of the building’s big front lawn and a busy two-lane road called the Sumneytown Pike. The huge Merck research complex called West Point, where 4,000 scientists and support staff members work, is less than a mile to the north. For Dr. Schoepp, 52, the Merck job is the latest stop in a research career that began at Osco Drug’s store No. 807 in downtown Bismarck, N.D. He grew up in Bismarck in a working-class family; at 16, he started working at the Osco, which has since closed. He quickly decided to become a scientist. “I just found it fascinating,” he says. “I was hungry for science.” While reading a magazine for pharmacists, he noticed an ad for a free pamphlet published by Merck called “Pharmacists in Industry.” He wrote away for the pamphlet, which convinced him that he could have a career developing medicines. He applied to North Dakota State University, where he focused on psychopharmacology, a discipline that studies the way chemicals affect the brain. “I was really interested in psychiatric disorders,” he says. “I fell in love with dopamine.” His love affair was so consuming that his wife joked that “dopamine” would be his daughter’s first word. Although scientists sometimes decide to study a disease because of problems it has caused among family members, Dr. Schoepp says his fascination with mental illness has been purely academic. “My family has more heart disease than anything else,” he says. After graduating from North Dakota State, he received a scholarship to a doctoral program in pharmacology and toxicology at West Virginia University. He graduated in 1982. Nearly five years later, he joined Lilly, which was about to introduce Prozac, the first modern antidepressant — a drug that changed both psychiatry and the public perception of depression and mental illness. Prozac became a blockbuster almost instantly after Lilly introduced it in 1987, making the company one of the most visible players in Big Pharma and giving it room to invest in long-shot scientific research. Ray Fuller, a Lilly scientist who was a co-discoverer of Prozac, encouraged Dr. Schoepp to focus his attention on glutamate. Glutamate is a pivotal transmitter in the brain, the crucial link in circuits involved in memory, learning and perception. Too much glutamate leads to seizures and the death of brain cells. Excessive glutamate release is also one of the main reasons that people have brain damage after strokes. Too little glutamate can cause psychosis, coma and death. “The main thoroughfare of communication in the brain is glutamate,” says Dr. John Krystal, a psychiatry professor at Yale and a research scientist with the VA Connecticut Health Care System. Along with Bita Moghaddam, a neuroscientist who was at Yale and is now at the University of Pittsburgh, Dr. Krystal has been responsible for some of the fundamental research into how glutamate works in the brain and how it may be implicated in schizophrenia.Schizophrenia affects about 2.5 million Americans, about 1 percent of the adult population, and it usually develops in the late teens or early to mid-20s. It is believed to result from a mix of causes, including genetic and environmental triggers that cause the brain to develop abnormally. The first schizophrenia medicines were developed accidentally about a half-century ago, when Henri Laborit, a French military surgeon, noticed that an antinausea drug called chlorpromazine helped to control hallucinations in psychotic patients. Chlorpromazine, sold under the brand name Thorazine, blocks the brain’s dopamine receptors. That led the way in the 1960s for drug companies to introduce other medicines that worked the same way. The medicines, called antipsychotics, gave many patients relief from the worst of their hallucinations and delusions. But they also can cause shaking, stiffness and facial tics, and did not help the cognitive problems or the so-called negative symptoms like social withdrawal associated with schizophrenia. In the 1980s, drug companies looked for new ways to treat the disease with fewer side effects. By the mid-1990s, they had introduced several new schizophrenia medicines, including Zyprexa, from Lilly, and Risperdal, from Johnson & Johnson. At the time, the new medicines were hailed as a major advance — and the companies marketed them that way to doctors and patients. In fact, the new medicines, called second-generation antipsychotics, had much in common with the older drugs. Both worked mainly by blocking dopamine and had little effect on negative or cognitive symptoms. The newer medicines caused fewer movement disorders, but had side effects of their own, including huge weight gain for many patients. Many doctors now complain that the companies oversold the second-generation compounds and that new treatments are badly needed. “People say that there are drugs to treat schizophrenia,” says Dr. Carol A. Tamminga, professor of psychiatry at the University of Texas Southwestern, in Dallas. “In fact, the treatment for schizophrenia is at best partial and inadequate. You have a cadre of cognitively impaired people who can’t fit in.” While most of the industry focused on second-generation medicines during the 1980s and 1990s, a handful of academic and industry researchers found intriguing hints that glutamate might provide an alternative treatment pathway. Psychiatrists and neuroscientists have wondered about a possible connection between glutamate and schizophrenia since the early ’80s, when they first learned that phencyclidine, the street drug commonly called PCP, blocks the release of glutamate. People who use PCP often have the hallucinations, delusions, cognitive problems and emotional flatness that are characteristic of schizophrenia. Psychiatrists noted PCP’s side effects as early as the late 1950s. But they lacked the tools to determine how PCP affected the brain until 1979, when they found that it blocked a glutamate receptor, called the NMDA receptor, that is at the center of the transmission of nerve impulses in the brain. The PCP finding led a few scientists to begin researching glutamate’s role in psychosis and other brain disorders. By the early 1990s, they discovered that besides triggering the primary glutamate receptors — NMDA and AMPA — glutamate also triggered several other receptors. They called these newly found receptors “metabotropic,” because the receptors modified the amount of glutamate that cells released rather than simply turning circuits on or off. Because glutamate is so central to the brain’s activity, directly blocking or triggering the NMDA and AMPA receptors can be very dangerous. The metabotropic receptors appeared to be better targets for drug treatment. “Rather than acting as an all-or-nothing signal, they fine-tune that signal and modulate that signal,” said P. Jeffrey Conn, director of a Vanderbilt University drug research program. “It’s really an attempt to be very subtle in the way that you regulate the system.” During the 1990s, molecular biologists discovered genes for eight metabotropic glutamate receptors, which were located at different places inside nerve cells and had different structures. The finding allowed for the possibility that drug companies could create chemicals to turn them on and off selectively, rather than hitting all of them at once. For Dr. Schoepp and others, finding the receptors was only the first part of the struggle. They also had to find chemicals that would either block or trigger the receptors selectively. At the same time, the chemicals had to be relatively easy to formulate and capable of crossing the blood-brain barrier, which protects the brain from being easily penetrated by outside agents. The work was arduous, but the Lilly scientists made slow progress. In 1999, Dr. Schoepp and two other scientists published a 46-page research paper that detailed scores of different chemicals that produced reactions at the glutamate sites. At about the same time, scientists at Yale, led by Dr. Moghaddam, were demonstrating that activating metabotropic glutamate receptors in rats could reverse the effects of PCP — a seminal finding, providing the first proof that altering the path of glutamate transmission in the brain might help relieve the symptoms of psychosis. Although the finding in rats was promising, developing animal models for schizophrenia and other brain diseases is extremely difficult, said Paul Greengard, professor of molecular and cellular neuroscience at Rockefeller University.Even when compared with diseases like cancer, brain disorders are notoriously complex. Scientists have only a limited understanding of the chemistry of consciousness, or of how problems in the brain’s electrical circuitry affect the ability to form memories, learn or think. “We do not know with any of these neuropsychiatric disorders what the ultimate basis is,” Dr. Greengard says. “Let’s say you could find that too much of protein X was involved in schizophrenia. Would you then know what schizophrenia is? You would not.” Nonetheless, the findings in rats were promising. Those studies, as well as Dr. Krystal’s tests in 2001 of volunteers given ketamine, a drug that has effects similar to PCP, hinted that the glutamate drugs might help to treat the cognitive and negative symptoms of schizophrenia. Drugs currently on the market do little to treat those symptoms. Even before the findings at Yale, Lilly had put its first metabotropic glutamate receptor compound into human testing. Researchers initially tested the drug on patients with panic disorder, and it showed some positive results. But Lilly stopped human testing of the drug in 2001 when long-term testing in animals showed that it caused seizures. Even so, Lilly decided that it had enough evidence to justify tests of another chemical compound, LY404039, that affected the same receptors. “They had to take a risk on letting these drugs be tested on models or for disorders that were justified purely on pretty basic science,” Dr. Krystal says. “There is nothing with these drugs that is straightforward or makes developing them a basic path.”
When it tried to test LY404039 in humans, the company ran into yet another hurdle. The human body didn’t easily absorb it. So Lilly created a drug that the body could absorb, LY2140023, which is metabolized into LY404039 in the body. Bingo. LY2140023 was the drug that got Dr. Schoepp jumping out of his office chair in 2006, nearly three years after the first trials in humans began. In the Lilly test, the drug was slightly less effective over all than Zyprexa, which is considered the most effective among the widely used schizophrenia treatments. But LY2140023 also appeared to have fewer side effects than Zyprexa, which can cause severe weight gain and diabetes. The new drug also appeared to improve cognition, something that existing treatments don’t do, said Dr. Insel of the National Institute of Mental Health. IF Lilly’s new round of tests confirms the drug’s efficacy by early next year, the company is likely to move ahead to an even larger clinical trial, involving thousands of patients, that could lead to federal approval for the compound. Still, approval is at least three to four years away, and other big drug makers are already scrambling to compete with Lilly. In January, Pfizer agreed to pay Taisho Pharmaceutical, a Japanese company, $22 million for the rights to develop Taisho’s glutamate drug for schizophrenia. Taisho will receive more payments if the drug moves forward in development. Since it hired Dr. Schoepp, Merck has also been moving aggressively. It has struck two deals since December to work with Addex Pharmaceuticals, a Swiss company, to develop glutamate drugs for schizophrenia, Parkinson’s and other diseases. Merck has paid Addex $25 million so far, with more payments to come if the drugs move forward. Another glutamate drug, meanwhile, has been shown in preclinical studies to reverse mental retardation in adult rats, a finding that previously appeared impossible, Dr. Insel said. Dr. Steven M. Paul, the president of Lilly Research Laboratories, says Lilly expects competition in glutamate research to intensify. “We’d like to believe we have a head start here, and hopefully a good head start,” he says. “But this area will heat up here; this will be an area where there will be a lot of investment.” For Dr. Schoepp, the sudden interest in glutamate is exciting, and he acknowledges that he eagerly awaits the results of the large Lilly trial early next year. And what if the drug fails in that trial, after all the work that he and scientists around the world have put in? “I would probably go out and have a beer,” he says. “You have to define failure. If you collect information and it tells you what you need to know, you’re not a failure.”
The uptick in advisories doesn't mean that drugs are more dangerous, says Paul Seligman, director of the FDA's Office of Drug Safety; it simply marks the fulfillment of a 2005 promise by Secretary of Health and Human Services Mike Leavitt to notify the public sooner when the agency learns of adverse reactions to approved drugs. "We are trying to act in a responsible way," Seligman says. FDA critics, including Rep. John Dingell (D-Mich.), head of the House Energy and Commerce Committee, have complained that the agency's responses are too few and too late. As a case in point, they cite the recall of the pain reliever Vioxx four years ago. Some critics said the FDA had long known of concerns about Vioxx and delayed taking any action on the drug, including requesting that the company add information on heart disease risk to the label. Dingell calls the recent increase in public communications "a quantum improvement." Marc J. Scheineson, a former FDA deputy commissioner, agrees. "There was certainly too little information back then,'' he says. Now, the problem is the opposite, he says, "so patients and their doctors will need to filter the news.'' Since the fall, the agency has begun issuing three new types of advisories: an "early communication" that indicates a recently reported problem with a drug; a "public health advisory" that advises consumers to speak with their doctors because a drug may pose a serious risk; and a Q and A for physicians to help them answer patient questions. In November, an early communication advised that patients on Chantix, a smoking-cessation drug, had reported side effects including depression and suicidal behavior. Two months later, a public health advisory noted that drugmaker Pfizer would add safety warnings to its label, at the agency's request. The FDA also issued a fact sheet for doctors, identifying factors (such as a history of psychiatric illness) that would make someone a poor candidate for Chantix and listing symptoms that users should report promptly. Some advisories hold good news for patients, Scheineson says. He cites a December advisory that found no link between two acid reflux drugs and heart problems -- a concern previously reported. "That shows the system is working'' says the FDA's Seligman. While the advisories are meant primarily for physicians, consumers have easy access to them: on the FDA Web site ( http:/ Arthur Levin, head of the Center for Medical Consumers in New York, and other patient advocates welcome the information but worry that patients will simply stop taking a drug cited in an advisory. That's what many users of the diabetes drug Avandia did, according to Levin, after a well-publicized study several months ago warned that the drug might be tied to an increased risk of heart disease. No patient should stop taking prescribed medication without first consulting his or her doctor, warns Richard Platt, a professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and chairman of the FDA's new Drug Safety and Risk Management Advisory Committee. In most cases, failing to take prescribed drugs "poses a far higher risk of complications and death than staying on a drug about which a question has been posed," Platt says. Advice on whether to continue a cited drug will vary by patient. The FDA is also working with medical oganizations to help physicians understand the nuances of its advisories and pass along that information to patients. For example, the agency is sending weekly e-mails to members of the American Medical Association, said Edward Langston, who chairs the AMA's board of trustees.
Other studies have shown the link between spanking and physical violence, but Straus said his research is the first to show a link between corporal punishment and sexual behavior. ''My underlying motive was to bring this to the attention of parents and of more people,'' Straus said, ''in the hope it will help continue the decrease in the use of corporal punishment.'' Straus, co-director of UNH's Family Research Laboratory, conducted a study in the mid-1990s in which he asked 207 students at three colleges whether they'd ever been aroused by masochistic sex. He also asked them if they'd been spanked as children. He found that students who were spanked were nearly twice as likely to like masochistic sex. He has bundled that study with three new ones that explore the connections between corporal punishment, coerced sex and risky sex. He presented all four studies this week at the American Psychological Association's Summit on Violence and Abuse in Relationships in Bethesda, Md. Straus said his study found adults who were spanked as children are more likely to coerce their partners to have sex. Straus asked 14,000 college students in 32 different countries whether they strongly disagreed, disagreed, agreed or strongly agreed with this statement: ''I was spanked or hit a lot before age 12.'' He also asked whether they had ever verbally or physically coerced an uninterested partner to have sex. He found a big difference between students who said they'd been hit a lot before age 12 and those who said they hadn't. For every increased step on Straus's four-step scale of agreement, men were 10 percent more likely to have verbally coerced sex from a partner by insisting on sex or threatening to end the relationship if the partner refused. Women were 12 percent more likely to have done that. Previous studies have shown that 90 percent of parents strike their toddlers, a statistic that's held steady throughout the 30 years Straus has researched corporal punishment. Meanwhile, the number of parents who hit older children has drastically decreased. Straus said it's unclear why, though he has some theories. One is that 2- and 3-year-olds are less likely to respond to repeated verbal warnings. Straus said he would like more pediatricians and child-rearing experts to warn against spanking. He'd also like lawmakers to take a stand by dedicating state money to teaching parents about the dangers of corporal punishment. ''The best-kept secret in child psychology is that children who were never spanked are among the best behaved,'' Straus said. Information from: Concord Monitor, http://www.cmonitor.com |