Editor’s Note: With 1 year of the COVID-19 pandemic in the rearview mirror, we decided to check in with the Editorial Advisory Board members of Clinical Psychiatry News about the impact it has had on their practices and lives.
Redefining how to engage
The COVID-19 pandemic has triggered a wave of mental health problems in our population, such as general stress, addiction, weight gain, depression, and social isolation, and these symptoms are exacerbated in mental health patients who are already struggling to cope with personal issues.
Dr. Richard W. Cohen
When the pandemic lockdown was announced in March 2020, many of my patients became overwhelmed and panicked at the idea of not being able to come to my office for in-person therapy. As an alternative, I started phone call sessions with my clients. These calls forced me to listen extra carefully to patient voice intonations to ascertain their true feelings, since I was unable to view the clients.
Soon thereafter, I transitioned to telemedicine over the Internet, and this visual helped me assess each patient. In addition, my patients became accustomed to telemedicine and embraced it once they saw me and were able to interact with me on the screen.
Although the pandemic disrupted my medical practice, it has redefined the way I can do therapy, as I can practice medicine from a distance. Telemedicine is time efficient for both my patients and me and it provides extreme social distancing, eliminating COVID-19 exposure between doctor and patient.
The pandemic has forced me to be adaptable and to recognize that, if you are open to changing habits, you can find a solution to any situation, including a pandemic.
Richard W. Cohen, MD
Private Practice
Philadelphia
Adjusting to fate
As it became clear in January 2020 that a pandemic was upon us, I made plans and prepared. I needed to remain healthy for my patients and my 102-year-old best friend, Doc.
Dr. Thelissa A. Harris
I purchased PPE and 6 months’ of nonperishable groceries and toilet tissue from a commercial vendor. I made certain that Doc’s caregivers had what they needed to care for him and their families and preached to them, family, patients, and friends the public health guidelines of the day. Also, I needed to remain healthy for my patients who live in a dementia care facility, and I joined other workers there in being careful and proud that our facility remained COVID free.
By March 2020, I left my office, because it was in a building where both residents and staff were becoming ill with COVID. I started audio and video telemedicine as well as standing outside the windows of patients who only read lips and do not use digital technology. Under these new circumstances, patients (and Doc) revealed things about themselves that had remained hidden for decades. There was a sense of urgency and uncertainty.
I also started weekly COVID testing, at first at CVS and then in a public park. Doc, who had had congestive heart failure for 2 years, had celebrated his 103rd birthday in February, and continued to be a source of encouragement and support. We weathered through the spring and summer with him on lockdown in his senior residence. The dementia care facility remained free of COVID.
My plan had been to return to my office in July, however, the facility manager determined that they were not ready to receive my outpatients. I took on a short-term lease for August and was told I could return to my regular office Sept. 1, which I did.
On Aug. 31, 2020, Doc had a middle cerebral artery stroke. He received the clot buster within 40 minutes and was in surgery within 90 minutes. He regained consciousness and lucidity but would always have a left-sided disability. During his third postoperative day he was told that he would never again swallow properly, and he yanked out his nasogastric tube. He had always told me that he would not accept artificial feeding. M. Leslie Felmly, MD, a psychiatrist, died on Sept. 12, 2020, and I buried him beside his family in New Jersey, on Sept. 22, 2020.
After that, I needed routine and normalcy, and therefore, stayed out of work only on the day of Doc’s burial. I took on new patients and continued with my old patients. As the holidays neared I braced myself; for 26 years I had spent Thanksgiving and New Year’s with Doc and Christmas with my family in Texas. None of that was going to happen in 2020. My best female friend and her husband invited me to a socially distanced Thanksgiving meal with the two of them, and I accepted. Christmas and New Year’s I spent alone (I live alone and enjoy my company). Both of those holidays were made special because I spent the eve days at the dementia care facility.
I received my first Pfizer injection on Jan. 6, 2021. One day later, I went to a park to get COVID testing before I returned to the dementia care facility. There, I learned that I was COVID positive, and when I called into the dementia facility, I learned that one resident and several staff members had also tested positive. As I stood in the sunshine outside the testing facility I thought: “So, now what will I do with the rest of my life?”
I began to feel profoundly tired, and over time, developed what felt like a very bad head cold. I had no high temperature or difficulty breathing. Truly, the worst of it was the profound fatigue and the terrorizing fear that I would develop problems breathing. By Jan. 21, I had only symptoms of fatigue, and on the 23rd, I had a negative COVID test. I attributed my course and recovery to my whole-food plant-based diet and routine high-dose vitamin D3 – in spite of my being an overweight, older African American woman. Through it all, I learned to ask for help, and one of my colleagues brought me a thermometer and 2 days of vegan Pho. I learned to be resourceful and ordered myself a fruit basket from Edible Arrangements when I was too fatigued to arrange deliveries by computer. I told Edible Arrangements that I was too weak to cut up a pineapple, and the manager included a cut-up pineapple in the box. I am grateful for the kindness of others.
I returned to work Jan. 25, and for most of each day, I feel better than I have ever felt in my adult life. It is amazing what 2 solid weeks can do for 50 years of arrears of sleep. The overwhelming fatigue was such that I could not not sleep. Thankfully, my remaining fatigue is less and less each day.
On Jan. 27, 2021, I received my second COVID vaccine injection and had no adverse reaction. Then on the 28th, I learned that my male cousin, who was just 6 months younger than I am, died of complications of COVID. Later, I learned that a resident of the dementia care facility had died from the same outbreak that had sickened me.
Since the beginning of the pandemic, I had tried so hard to remain healthy and COVID free and have my family, friends, and patients do the same. I planned, prepared, and executed but fate had other plans in store. Doc and my cousin are gone; I was exposed to COVID in my dementia care facility; and I know what matters for the rest of my life. I will continue to pursue and espouse health for me, my family, my friends, and my patients, and I will endeavor to be the best family member, friend, and physician that I can. To help with this, I remember the wise words of Dr. Felmly, “Your level of frustration will rise directly with your level of expectation” and “Above all else, remain flexible.” Going forward, I am reminded that I am not in charge; I am grateful for so many things; and I will continue to be as flexible as I can be.
Thelissa A. Harris, MD
Private Practice
Hartford, Conn.