David Baxter PhD
Late Founder
Take Two Prozac and E-Mail Me in the Morning
By RICHARD A. FRIEDMAN, M.D
Mind
July 15, 2008
Ah, the promise of e-mail! The minute I started giving out my address to my patients, I fantasized about how much time I would save on routine phone calls and how clear and unambiguous the communication would be.
Indeed, there was a honeymoon period. Could I change a Monday appointment for Wednesday? Of course. Would I phone in a renewal of Prozac? With pleasure. This was really neat: no more phone tag with patients, just simple requests with simple solutions.
Not for long.
?Dear Dr. Friedman,? one patient e-mailed at 3 a.m. ?I am having dark thoughts and wonder if I should increase my antidepressant. Can you let me know what you think??
It was 8:30 that morning when I opened my e-mail and read her message with alarm. What exactly were ?dark thoughts?? I wasn?t sure, but I had to assume the worst ? suicidal feelings or thoughts ? and called her immediately.
She came in later that afternoon and explained that she felt bleak and hopeless and thought she and her family might be better off with her dead.
?Why didn?t you call me right away?? I asked, as I recall the conversation.
?It was the middle of the night and I didn?t want to disturb you,? she replied.
Getting disturbed is what I do for a living, and in this case e-mail seemed like a potential obstacle to her care. Considering the sheer volume of messages, and how many of them are spam, it was lucky I did not miss it.
I was beginning to worry about what I had gotten myself into. When patients had only my phone number, I just had to keep track of voice mail; now I had to be on the lookout in my e-mail, too. This was going to make my life easier?
?I know we ran out of time, but there was just one more important thing I wanted to tell you,? a patient e-mailed me and signed with a smiley face. ?I mean it would only have taken five minutes of your time ? tops.?
Couching the sentiment in humor, my narcissistic patient was enraged that I had not given him what he felt entitled to: more time.
At least this was grist for the therapeutic mill. I brought up his message in the next session: ?You are angry and resentful that I didn?t give you five extra minutes, in the same way you feel the world owes you special treatment.?
Not all my attempts to make therapeutic use of e-mail were as successful. A young woman who was jilted by her boyfriend e-mailed me between sessions: ?Here?s installment No. 2. I had a terrible date last night. The guy was a disaster. Can?t keep at this social scene. Or should I??
?Let?s discuss it when we meet this week,? I e-mailed back.
That was not what she wanted to hear; she was expecting immediate reassurance or advice. This was a patient who had trouble tolerating any frustration or separation from people she felt close to, including me.
For her, e-mail was probably antitherapeutic: it meant, in effect, never leaving my office ? and never disconnecting from me, something she was supposed to accomplish in therapy.
?Why did you give your e-mail in the first place?? she asked angrily, when I tried to explore the topic with her. She was right. I had made a mistake.
On one occasion, e-mail was critically valuable. A patient traveling in India lost his medication when his backpack was stolen. Given the time difference, it would have been hard to connect by phone, so he e-mailed from an Internet cafe. Though his medication was not available in India, I was able to give him quick advice about a substitute.
For all the convenience and clarity of e-mail, it can be perilous for a clinician; as part of the written record of patients? treatment, it can be subpoenaed just like chart notes in the unfortunately common event of legal action. Not just that, but e-mail must comply with the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, which has complex rules to safeguard patient privacy and confidentiality. Your psychiatrist could not, for example, send you a reassuring message about your recent lithium blood level ? unless you e-mailed first and specifically asked for it.
Still, being an impatient person, I love the speed of e-mail. But being a psychiatrist, I am leery about the quality of information it conveys. How can I tell whether my patient is being humorous, sarcastic or ironic? Smiley faces are no substitute for the real thing.
Which brings me to e-therapy. Cyberspace is full of therapists happy to treat you ? for a nice fee. But unless you live where there is nary a therapist, I would have second thoughts about this. Internet-based therapy, whether by e-mail or live chat, seems like a poor substitute for a real human bond with all its nonverbal cues and face-to-face exchanges.
After all, if there is no excitement or emotional charge, you?ve probably got a sterile therapeutic relationship that is more likely to liberate you from your money than from your conflicts.
So here is what e-mail with my patients has taught me: if you need to reschedule an appointment or need a routine medication refill, please push ?send?; if you have something on your mind you want to talk about, please call me ? the old-fashioned way. I?m almost wistful for the sound of a ringing phone.
By RICHARD A. FRIEDMAN, M.D
Mind
July 15, 2008
Ah, the promise of e-mail! The minute I started giving out my address to my patients, I fantasized about how much time I would save on routine phone calls and how clear and unambiguous the communication would be.
Indeed, there was a honeymoon period. Could I change a Monday appointment for Wednesday? Of course. Would I phone in a renewal of Prozac? With pleasure. This was really neat: no more phone tag with patients, just simple requests with simple solutions.
Not for long.
?Dear Dr. Friedman,? one patient e-mailed at 3 a.m. ?I am having dark thoughts and wonder if I should increase my antidepressant. Can you let me know what you think??
It was 8:30 that morning when I opened my e-mail and read her message with alarm. What exactly were ?dark thoughts?? I wasn?t sure, but I had to assume the worst ? suicidal feelings or thoughts ? and called her immediately.
She came in later that afternoon and explained that she felt bleak and hopeless and thought she and her family might be better off with her dead.
?Why didn?t you call me right away?? I asked, as I recall the conversation.
?It was the middle of the night and I didn?t want to disturb you,? she replied.
Getting disturbed is what I do for a living, and in this case e-mail seemed like a potential obstacle to her care. Considering the sheer volume of messages, and how many of them are spam, it was lucky I did not miss it.
I was beginning to worry about what I had gotten myself into. When patients had only my phone number, I just had to keep track of voice mail; now I had to be on the lookout in my e-mail, too. This was going to make my life easier?
?I know we ran out of time, but there was just one more important thing I wanted to tell you,? a patient e-mailed me and signed with a smiley face. ?I mean it would only have taken five minutes of your time ? tops.?
Couching the sentiment in humor, my narcissistic patient was enraged that I had not given him what he felt entitled to: more time.
At least this was grist for the therapeutic mill. I brought up his message in the next session: ?You are angry and resentful that I didn?t give you five extra minutes, in the same way you feel the world owes you special treatment.?
Not all my attempts to make therapeutic use of e-mail were as successful. A young woman who was jilted by her boyfriend e-mailed me between sessions: ?Here?s installment No. 2. I had a terrible date last night. The guy was a disaster. Can?t keep at this social scene. Or should I??
?Let?s discuss it when we meet this week,? I e-mailed back.
That was not what she wanted to hear; she was expecting immediate reassurance or advice. This was a patient who had trouble tolerating any frustration or separation from people she felt close to, including me.
For her, e-mail was probably antitherapeutic: it meant, in effect, never leaving my office ? and never disconnecting from me, something she was supposed to accomplish in therapy.
?Why did you give your e-mail in the first place?? she asked angrily, when I tried to explore the topic with her. She was right. I had made a mistake.
On one occasion, e-mail was critically valuable. A patient traveling in India lost his medication when his backpack was stolen. Given the time difference, it would have been hard to connect by phone, so he e-mailed from an Internet cafe. Though his medication was not available in India, I was able to give him quick advice about a substitute.
For all the convenience and clarity of e-mail, it can be perilous for a clinician; as part of the written record of patients? treatment, it can be subpoenaed just like chart notes in the unfortunately common event of legal action. Not just that, but e-mail must comply with the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, which has complex rules to safeguard patient privacy and confidentiality. Your psychiatrist could not, for example, send you a reassuring message about your recent lithium blood level ? unless you e-mailed first and specifically asked for it.
Still, being an impatient person, I love the speed of e-mail. But being a psychiatrist, I am leery about the quality of information it conveys. How can I tell whether my patient is being humorous, sarcastic or ironic? Smiley faces are no substitute for the real thing.
Which brings me to e-therapy. Cyberspace is full of therapists happy to treat you ? for a nice fee. But unless you live where there is nary a therapist, I would have second thoughts about this. Internet-based therapy, whether by e-mail or live chat, seems like a poor substitute for a real human bond with all its nonverbal cues and face-to-face exchanges.
After all, if there is no excitement or emotional charge, you?ve probably got a sterile therapeutic relationship that is more likely to liberate you from your money than from your conflicts.
So here is what e-mail with my patients has taught me: if you need to reschedule an appointment or need a routine medication refill, please push ?send?; if you have something on your mind you want to talk about, please call me ? the old-fashioned way. I?m almost wistful for the sound of a ringing phone.