The new mantra of recovery
So much we read nowadays in psychiatry has to do with the recovery model, moving away from doctors recommending disease treatments to asking patients what they want from treatment and discussing ways to meet those goals. It's turning the field of psychiatry topsy turvy.
Patient advocacy groups have been pushing this for a long time. The recovery focused movement has won the day, points out an article in Psychiatric News last November. The President's Freedom Commission on Mental Health endorsed the recovery approach back in 2003 when it called for a “fundamental transformation of the nation's approach to mental health care.” And there have been a spate of articles, conferences, speeches and webinars since then, some from the highest perches in the land in favor of converting to the new religion of recovery oriented services.
Now SAMHSA, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, has begun issuing guidelines, moving the educational concept of recovery more to specific instructions for psychiatrists to integrate recovery models into their practices. This training is going on now and is causing professionals to rethink entirely how they provide care, right down to what types of questions they need to ask patients.
The idea is to focus less on a remission of symptoms and more on helping patients overcome the effects of mental illness on their lives, the new gurus explain. This includes difficulties they have with employment, housing, and a lack of hope about their future. The new movement has both adherents and critics. It is behind the thrust in NY State to impose PROS (personal recovery oriented services) on existing networks of community outpatient clinics, day treatment and social club programs here and elsewhere.
What do they mean by recovery?
There's a debate about what anybody means by recovery—is it measurable and lasting? What's the evidence for that? Larry Davidson is a PhD psychologist from Yale who writes for a new website called Recovery to Practice. He addresses these problems quite admirably. In a column June 11 he writes how we have held out hope for a 'magic bullet' to make the illness go away and restore everything to normalcy. But instead, “What we have learned over the past couple of decades is that the truth lies somewhere else. Mental illnesses are not necessarily permanent but even the most evidence-based of practices in mental health are limited in their effectiveness.”
He points out that recent studies have shown that “newer psychiatric medicines are not that much better than the older ones and their side effects are still onerous. It remains the case that only 70% of people with a serious mental illness will derive any relief from these medications and the benefits are limited to only one domain of symptoms—primarily the so-called positive symptoms of hallucinations and delusions—having little to no impact on the more disabling aspects of the disease.” And as noted elsewhere, “treatments do not cure schizophrenia or fully ameliorate symptoms and problems for the majority of affected individuals.”
So where does recovery come in? Davidson tells us: “Recovery, as it turns out, has more to do with what the person with the illness does to contain and minimize the intrusions of the illness than with what professionals do to treat it. One thing people with serious mental illnesses can do is to take the medications prescribed for their condition by mental health professionals. But this is only one thing that they can do among many others, and most likely is not the most effective thing they can do, at least for those people for whom the medications are very limited in efficacy.
“Recovery also has to do with all of those other things people can do, and may need to do in addition to taking prescribed medications. Recovery also has to do with how people go about leading their lives in the presence of, or despite, serious mental illness.
Davidson makes a surprising assessment. He writes: “The most robust evidence base for interventions targeting serious mental illnesses are not for the traditional treatments of medication or psychotherapies that were aimed at eliminating the illness. On the contrary, what mattered most “were those interventions that supported people in participating in the community activities of their choice, in occupying normal adult roles, while they continue to have a mental illness.
This suggests to him that “the most effective breakthroughs in practice for people with serious mental illnesses since the introduction of chlorpromazine in the 1950s have not been in the development of new and better medications but in development of assertive community treatment and the related psychiatric rehabilitation practices of supported housing and supported employment. What these advances have taught us,” he says, “ is that it may be less difficult for people to figure out how to live with a mental illness than to be rid of it altogether. While the mental health field has had limited success in treating the illness, many people have themselves found ways to live with it and some to eventually recovery from it fully.”
These are persuasive arguments for the recovery theorists. They leave out some points. They still talk in generalities. We see our adult children doing well for some time and then suddenly, without notice, falling back into the throes of their disease, perhaps hospitalized, losing a job, pulling out of activities they enjoyed. There isn't any easy explanation—is the medicine not working or has his body worn off its effects? We should expect something like this, it happens with other diseases. But it keeps us on edge over a lifetime that true recovery in schizophrenia or major depression doesn't happen. Nobody gets a free bill of health without a lifetime of checkups and staying on the right medicines. And, we think, symptoms are more manageable with the aid of a steady counselor, trusting friend, supportive family and a good place to live. Those seem to be essentials whether you buy into the new recovery models or not. (Roy Neville)