In mid-April, a month into pandemic life with a stay-at-home order, I wrote about my experiences as a virtual outpatient psychiatrist in private practice. It’s been 10 months now and with this tragic year drawing to a close, it seems like a good time for an update.
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In that April column, I describe how I created a makeshift home office. This entailed pushing my son’s baseball card collection and dusty sports trophies to the side of the room, bringing in a desk and a rug, a house plant, and a statue of a Buddha. I enjoyed watching out the window behind my computer screen as the neighbors and their dogs walked by, and I loved seeing the tree out the window blossom into gorgeous flowers.
With time, my physical space has changed. The remnants of my son’s childhood have all been moved to a closet, artwork has been added to the wall behind me, and the space is now clearly an office, though my laptop remains propped on a pile of books so that no one is looking up my nose. The room, with four large windows facing north and west, has issues with temperature control. In an old house, the heat works all too well in the adjacent bedroom (while the rest of the occupants in other rooms freeze), but the office itself has no heat: I have added both a fan and a space heater, and there are some very cold days where I’ve propped open one of the windows. And with the shortened days, large windows on two walls have presented a challenge as the sun changes positions throughout the day – there are times when the sun’s rays streak across my face in such a way that I look rather ethereal, and between sessions I have lowered, raised, and adjusted the blinds to avoid this. I finally pulled off the thin metal venetian blinds and took them to Lowe’s, where a partially masked young woman cut me new blinds with larger slats. An ergonomic office chair has replaced the wicker Ikea chair I was using, and between all these machinations, I am now physically comfortable most of the time. I believe I am still a bit too pixelated on the screen, but my patients are not complaining, and when the natural lighting fades at 4:30 p.m., the overhead lighting is all wrong again. These all are things I never considered – or long ago addressed – in my real-life practice of psychiatry in a office I have loved for years.
With time, I’ve grown more comfortable working from home on a screen and there are things about this life I’ve grown to like. My husband no longer travels, my daughter – my gift of the pandemic – returned home from New York City where she was in her final months of graduate school, and these unexpected months with her (and her cat) have been a pleasure. There is something nice about being trapped at home with people I love, even if we are all in our respective places, in front of our separate screens. There has been time for long walks, trips to the beach, and long bike rides. And as my daughter now prepares to move to Denver, I have been heartened by the hope of vaccines, and the knowledge that I will likely be able to see her again in the coming months. The people are not the only ones who have benefited from this time at home together – I have no idea how we would have managed with our elderly dog if we were not home to care for him.
My life has become more efficient. I used to find myself aggravated when patients forgot their appointments, a not-infrequent occurrence. People no longer get caught in traffic, they come on time, and they don’t complain about my crowded parking lot. When there is down time, I use it more efficiently at home – a load of laundry gets done, I get a chance to turn on the news or exercise, or make dinner early. And because I have two other family members working from home, I am not the only one mixing work with chores or exercise.
While my medical colleagues who work in settings where they must see patients in person have struggled or functioned in some state of denial, I have felt safe and protected, a bit cocooned with my family in a house big enough to give us all space, in a neighborhood with sidewalks and places to walk, and to protect my sanity, I am lucky to have a patio that has now been equipped with lights, patio heaters, a fire pit, and socially distanced tables so that I can still see friends outside.
Dr. Dinah Miller
Telemedicine has added a new dimension to treatment. I’ve had family sessions with multiple people joining a zoom link from different locations – so much easier than coordinating a time when everyone can travel to my office. I’ve had patients call in from cars and from closets in search of privacy, and from their gardens and poolsides. I’ve met spouses, children, many a dog and cat, plus the more unusual of pets and farm animals, including a goat, ferret, lizard, African grey parrot, and guinea pigs.
These are the good things, and while I wish I could say it was all good, so much of what remains is laden with anxiety. My son lives nearby, but he has shared a house with a hospital worker for much of the past year and there were COVID scares, months at a time without so much as a hug, and my husband has not seen his parents or brother for a year now. There are the awkward waves or salutes with friends I once gave carefree hugs, the constant thoughts of how far away is that person standing, and each person’s “beliefs” about what is safe when we still don’t fully understand how this virus spreads. I worry for myself, I worry for my family and friends, and I worry for my patients when they tell me about behaviors that clearly are not safe.
At first, I found my work as a telepsychiatrist to be exhausting, and I assumed it was because my patients were now just faces, inches from my own eyes, and no longer diffused by a visual field that included my whole office and the opportunity to break eye contact while I still listened with full attention. This has gotten much better – I’ve adjusted to my on-screen relationships, but what has not gotten better is both the acuity, and sometimes the boredom.
Patients are struggling; they are sad, lonely, and missing the richness of their former lives. They miss friends, meeting new people, cultural experiences, diversity in how they spend their time, and travel. They have all the same human experiences of loss, illness, and grief, but with the added burden of struggling alone or within the confines of pandemic life that has destroyed our ability to mark events with social and religious customs that guide healing. People who had done well for years are now needing more, and those who were not doing well are doing worse. It makes for long days.
I mentioned boredom: With less time spent with other people, so many sessions are about COVID – who has it, who might have it, what people are doing to avoid it, and still, how they get their groceries. The second most popular psychotherapy topic includes what they are watching on Netflix, and as human beings trudging through this together, I have appreciated my patients’ suggestions as much as they have appreciated mine.* Life for all of us has come to be more about survival, and less about self-discovery and striving. Many sessions have started to feel the same from 1 hour to the next, in ways they never did before.
There are other aspects to telepsychiatry that I have found difficult. The site I have used most – Doxy.me – works well with some patients, but with others there are technical problems. Sessions freeze, the sound goes in or out, and we end up switching to another platform, which may or may not work better. Sometimes patients have the camera at odd angles, or they bounce a laptop on their knees to the point that I get seasick. One of my family members has said that I can sometimes be overheard, so I now have a radio playing classical music outside my door, and I often use earbuds so that the patient can’t be overheard and I speak more softly with them – this has all been good in terms of improving privacy, but after a while I find that it’s stressful to have people talking to me inside my own ears! These are little kinks, but when you do it for hours a day, they add up to a sense of being stressed in ways that in-person psychiatry does not lend itself to.
Finally, three seasons into my work-at-home life, I still have not found a new rhythm for some of the logistical aspects of private practice that came so easily in my office. My mail still goes to the office, the plants there still need water, my files and computer are there, but tasks that were once a seamless part of my work day now spill into my time off and I go into the office each week to file, log medications, and attend to the business of my practice. My smartphone, with its ability to e-prescribe, invoice, and fax, has made it possible for me to manage and certainly, outpatient psychiatrists are very lucky that we have the option to continue our work with patients remotely during such difficult times.
I have sent people for virtual intensive substance treatment, and to virtual couples’ counseling, and these remote treatments have been useful. The one treatment that has been very difficult for patients to negotiate has been outpatient electroconvulsive therapy – this requires coordination with another person to drive the patient to treatments (and to wait outside in the parking lot), and also for separate weekly COVID testing. Transcranial magnetic stimulation, which also is still being done in person, has not been any different – patients can drive themselves and the one center I referred to has not required preprocedure COVID testing.
What does the future hold? Will we ever go back to practicing the way we did? While some of my patients miss real-life therapy, most do not; they too like the added efficiency, getting treatment from the comfort of their home without the stress of finding the time to travel. I’ve taken on new patients during this time, and while I anticipated that it would be difficult, it has gone surprisingly well – people I have never met in real life talk to me with ease, and both psychotherapy and medication management have gone well. The one area that I have found most difficult is assessing tremors and dyskinesias, and one patient mentioned she has gained nearly 50 pounds over the past year – something I certainly would have noticed and attended to sooner in real life. I have mixed feelings about returning to a completely live practice. I think I would like a combination where I see all my patients in person once in a while, but would like to be able to offer some times where I see people virtually from home at least one day a week.
Time will tell how that plays out with insurers. My best guess is that, with the lowered no-show rates that everyone is seeing and the higher levels of depression and anxiety that people are having, this may have been a costly time for mental health care. At the same time, inpatient psychiatric units have decreased their capacity, and perhaps more efficient delivery of outpatient care has lowered the overall cost. I suppose we will wait to hear, but for many, the transition to virtual care has allowed many people to get treatment who would have otherwise gone without care.
In my April article, I mentioned that I was having daily Facetime check-in visits with a distressed patient who was on a COVID unit with pneumonia. Since then, I have had several more patients contract COVID, and many of my patients have had family members who have tested positive or become symptomatic with COVID. It has been nice to have sessions with people during this time, and thankfully, I have not had any more patients who have required hospitalization for the virus.
I still catch myself thinking that, of all the things I have worried about over the years, “pandemic” was never on my list. It seems so strange that I left my office on a Friday with no idea that I would not be returning to work the following Monday, or that life would change in such a radical way. As we leave this awful year behind and greet the new one with the hope that vaccines and a new administration might offer solutions, I’d like to wish my readers the best for a healthy, safe, and gentle New Year.
*My top viewing picks for now are “The Queen’s Gambit” (Netflix), and “A Place to Call Home” (Acorn).
Dr. Miller is coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins, both in Baltimore.