Neurology Center

A 45 year old female teacher had a history of severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, along with other problems including ADHD. Her daughter, and many other people in her family, had suffered the same problems and in a few cases had Tourette's Syndrome.But all that changed - when she suffered a stroke. This is according to a brief case report from Drs. Diamond and Ondo of Texas:

[she] had a long history of constant intrusive and obsessive thoughts that interrupted her daily activities and sleep. She had constant unfounded fears that something bad would happen to her family and had persistent violent thoughts of using knives to harm family members. She would check the door locks up to 15 times a day. In addition to her OCD symptoms, she had ... inattention, poor concentration, and difficulty sitting still.

Nine months before approaching us, she developed the acute onset of paresthesia [weird sensations] and weakness in the left upper extremity and face, associated with slurred speech. Initially, she was unable to lift her arm against gravity.

Within weeks of her stroke, she realized that her obsessive and intrusive thoughts, fears, rituals, and impulsive behavior had completely resolved. In addition, there was some improvement in her temperament. There was no improvement in attention or concentration. Owing to her improvement in neuropsychiatric symptoms, she strongly felt that her stroke was beneficial. These benefits have persisted for 24 months.

There's a paradox at the heart of modern psychiatry, according to an important new paper by Dr Charles E. Dean, Psychopharmacology: A house divided.

It's a long and slightly rambling article, but Dean's central point is pretty simple. The medical/biological model of psychiatry assumes that there are such things as psychiatric diseases. Something biological goes wrong, presumably in the brain, and this causes certain symptoms. Different pathologies cause different symptoms - in other words, there is specificity in the relationship between brain dysfunction and mental illness.

Psychiatric diagnosis rests on this assumption. If and only if we can use a given patient's symptoms to infer what kind of underlying illness they have (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression), diagnosis makes sense. This is why we have DSM-IV which consists of a long list of disorders, and the symptoms they cause. Soon we'll have DSM-V.

The medical model has been criticized and defended at great length, but Dean doesn't do either. He simply notes that modern psychiatry has in practice mostly abandoned the medical model, and the irony is, it's done this because of medicines.

If there are distinct psychiatric disorders, there ought to be drugs that treat them specifically. So if depression is a brain disease, say, and schizophrenia is another, there ought to be drugs that only work on depression, and have no effect on schizophrenia (or even make it worse.) And vice versa.

But, increasingly, psychiatric drugs are being prescribed for multiple different disorders. Antidepressants are used in depression, but also all kinds of anxiety disorders (panic, social anxiety, general anxiety), obsessive-compulsive disorder, PTSD, and more. Antipsychotics are also used in mania and hypomania, in kids with behaviour problems, and increasingly in depression, leading some to complain that the term "antipsychotics" is misleading. And so on.

So, Dean argues, in clinical practice, psychiatrists don't respect the medical model - yet that model is their theoretical justification for using psychiatric drugs in the first place.

He looks in detail at one particularly curious case: the use of atypical antipsychotics in depression. Atypicals, like quetiapine (Seroquel) and olanzapine (Zyprexa), were originally developed to treat schizophrenia and other psychotic states. They are reasonably effective, though most of them are no more so than older "typical" antipsychotics.

Recently, atypicals have become very popular for other indications, most of all mood disorders: mania and depression. Their use in mania is perhaps not so surprising, because severe mania has much in common with psychosis. Their use in depression, however, throws up many paradoxes (above and beyond how one drug could treat both mania and its exact opposite, depression.)

Antipsychotics block dopamine D2 receptors. Psychosis is generally considered to be a disorder of "too much dopamine", so that makes sense. The dopamine hypothesis of psychosis and antipsychotic action is 50 years old, and still the best explanation going.

But depression is widely considered to involve too little dopamine, and there is lots of evidence that almost all antidepressants (indirectly) increase dopamine release. Wouldn't that mean that antidepressants could cause psychosis (they don't?). And why, Dean asks, would atypicals, that block dopamine, help treat depression?

Maybe it's because they also act on other systems? On top of being D2 antagonists, atypicals are also serotonin 5HT2A/C receptor blockers. Long-term use of antidepressants reduces 5HT2 levels, and some antidepressants are also 5HT2 antagonists, so this fits. However, it creates a paradox for the many people who believe that 5HT2 antagonism is important for the antipsychotic effect of atypicals as well - if that were true, antidepressants should be antipsychotics as well (they're not.) And so on.

There may be perfectly sensible answers. Maybe atypicals treat depression by some mechanism that we don't understand yet, a mechanism which is not inconsistent with their also treating psychosis. The point is that there are many such questions standing in need of answers, yet psychopharmacologists almost never address them. Dean concludes:

it seems increasingly obvious that clinicians are actually operating from a dimensional paradigm, and not from the classic paradigm based on specificity of disease or drug... the disjunction between those paradigms and our approach to treatment needs to be recognized and investigated... Bench scientists need to be more familiar with current clinical studies, and stop using outmoded clinical research as a basis for drawing conclusions about the relevance of neurochemical processes to drug efficacy. Bench and clinical scientists need to fully address the question of whether the molecular/cellular/anatomical findings, even if interesting and novel, have anything to do with clinical outcome.

Over the past few years, deep brain stimulation (DBS) has emerged as a promising treatment for severe psychiatric disorders that haven't responded to conventional approaches. A new paper from the University of Florida reports on a trial of DBS in obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and unlike most DBS studies, it was placebo-controlled: Deep Brain Stimulation for Intractable Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.


Six patients were implanted with electrodes in the "ventral capsule/ventral striatum" (VC/VS). This area has previously been used as a DBS target for OCD. The original reason for choosing to implant electrodes in this region was that it's long been known that destroying the anterior limb of the internal capsule (capsulotomy) alleviates OCD symptoms in many cases, especially if the ventral (lower) part is removed.

Did it work? Yes, but not for everyone. Out of the 6 patients who entered the trial, all of whom were extremely ill despite having tried multiple medications and psychotherapy, 4 (66%) eventually responded well. The other 2 unfortunately got little or no benefit over the 12 month trial period.

The study had a double-blind, placebo-controlled phase: the patients weren't told when the DBS electrodes were going to be switched on. As the graphs show, in the 3 patients who were randomly selected to have them switched on early, 2 responded pretty much immediately, while in the 3 patients whose electrodes were left off, none responded until they were turned on 30 days later, although the response at this point was fairly gradual.

One person (S1), who responded very well initially, suddenly relapsed about a year later. Upon investigation, it turned out that the battery powering their electrodes had worn out, although no-one knew this until the OCD symptoms returned, so this can't have been a placebo effect. They recovered after getting a new battery.

Overall there are few surprises here. These results confirm what we already knew about DBS: it works in many people, but not all, with response rates of around 60%; When it works, it works very well; but sometimes the effects take weeks or months to become fully apparent. This could be either because DBS starts some gradual process of change in the brain which takes time to work; or it could be that it often takes a long time to find the right stimulation parameters (voltage, frequency, etc.) which provide a good response, since this has to be done by trial-and-error. Most likely, it's a bit of both.

What I found most interesting was that the VC/VS stimulation didn't just treat people's obsessions and compulsions. It also had a mood-improving effect, and crucially, it sounds as though mood was the first thing to improve, with OCD symptoms following days or weeks later:

The last decade saw a number of new experimental treatments for depression based around the idea of using electricity to alter brain function - deep brain stimulation (DBS), vagus nerve stimulation (VNS), and transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS).

The mechanics of these technologies differ, but they're all being promoted as options for "treatment-resistant depression" - depression which hasn't responded to more conventional approaches. They're also alike in that their usefulness is uncertain - either because there have been no randomized-controlled trials (DBS), or because the results of randomized trials are mixed at best (TMS,VNS).

Now there's a new kid on the neurostimulatory block: epidural prefrontal cortical stimulation (EpCS). This involves implanting electrodes beneath the skull, but above the meninges, the "skin" surrounding the brain. So it's unlike deep brain stimulation (DBS), in which the electrodes are placed inside the brain itself.

Late last year, Nahas et al reported on EpCS in a paper, Bilateral Epidural Prefrontal Cortical Stimulation for Treatment-Resistant Depression. They took 5 severely depressed patients, with either major depression or bipolar disorder, who'd all tried many treatments and experienced no benefit:

The mean age was 44.2 years. Four were women, and three were diagnosed with recurrent major depressive disorder; two others had bipolar affective disorder I, depressed type. All were unemployed, and three were receiving disability. The average length of depressive illness was 25.6 years. The average length of the current depressive episode was 3 years, 7 months ... participants had received an average of 9.8 unsuccessful clinical treatments during the current major depressive episode ... They enrolled in the study taking on average 6 psychotropic drugs.

“I feel attentive,” “feel better and I can talk now,” “I can think clearer.” A patient noted during anterior frontal pole stimulation feeling as if a “weight [was] lifting off my shoulder,” “I feel calm”; another stated, “and although I am worried, I feel
dissociated from it. I can think back at my worry.”

Jamie Talan's Deep Brain Stimulation: A New Treatment Shows Promise In The Most Difficult Cases is the first book to offer a popular look at DBS, one of the more exciting emerging treatments in neurology and psychiatry.

Deep Brain Stimulation is not a textbook and the depth of scientific detail is kept pretty low, but the breadth of the material is good. Talan reviews the many kinds of disorders for which DBS has been trialled, from the early 1990s when it was used in Parkinson's disease up to the past five years where it's been tried for everything from epilepsy, depression and Tourette's Syndrome up to lifting patients out of persistent vegetative states (maybe).

Unfortunately, Talan doesn't discuss the controversial history of the first era of human brain stimulation, including the morally murky work of Robert G. Heath at Tulane University in the 1960s. She mentions Tulane once in passing but more detail would have been welcome, if only because it's a rather spicy tale.

The book's most engaging passages are the stories of individual patients. There's the man with Parkinson's who experienced amazing benefits from DBS, and who was so keen to keep them that he didn't tell doctors about the infection which developed a few weeks after surgery, in case they took the electrode out. After literally keeping the infected site under his hat for a few days, it progressed to a brain abscess, and he nearly died. Happily, he not only survived but was able to get the electrodes reimplanted.

Then there's the most moving case, that of the woman suffering from severe OCD and depression, who was given experimental DBS for the former condition. She died by suicide several months later, but said in her suicide note that the DBS had worked - her OCD symptoms were gone. Her depression was as bad as ever, though, and this is what led her to suicide. She wanted people to know that deep brain stimulation helped her, and didn't want her death to go down in the records as a mark against it.

The precursor to DBS was ablative neurosurgery - destroying particular parts of the brain in order to relieve symptoms. Talan describes its use in movement disorders such as Parkinson's, but she glosses over the history of "psychosurgery", the use of surgery to treat mental illness. People using DBS in psychiatry often prefer not to talk about psychosurgery - it's not exactly good PR. But clearly it is relevant. For all its faults, psychosurgery did seem to help some patients, which is why it's still used today in rare cases, although DBS may soon replace it.

DBS for depression and OCD usually target the same prefrontal white matter pathways that psychosurgery severed, so scientifically, psychosurgery has lessons for DBS. The ethical issues overlap too. Although DBS is reversible, unlike brain lesioning, it carries the same risks of serious complications like infection or brain bleeding. And there's the same question of whether seriously mentally ill people can give informed consent.

The book's strongest chaper is the last, which covers the ethical and practical difficulties of DBS. The danger is that enthusiastic doctors with no experience of the procedure, encouraged by the tales from other hospitals, might start doing it inappropriately. There's also a risk that patients or their families might volunteer for DBS prematurely or have impossibly high expectations. The initial results have been very promising, but there have been no large placebo-controlled trials so far (except in some movement disorders). And even with the best surgeons, in most disorders the response rate seems to hover around the 50-60% mark. Talan warns that DBS risks being a victim of its own hype. That's an important message.

Deep-brain stimulation (DBS) is probably the most exciting emerging treatment in psychiatry. DBS is the use of high-frequency electrical current to alter the function of specific areas of the brain. Originally developed for Parkinson's disease, over the past five years DBS has been used experimentally in severe clinical depression, OCD, Tourette's syndrome, alcoholism, and more.

Reports of the effects have frequently been remarkable, but there have been few scientifically rigorous studies, and the number of psychiatric patients treated to date is just dozens. So the true usefulness of the technique is unclear. How DBS works is also a mystery. Even the most basic questions - such as whether high-frequency stimulation switches the brain "on" or "off" - are still being debated.

Recent data from rodents sheds some important light on the issue: Antidepressant-Like Effects of Medial Prefrontal Cortex Deep Brain Stimulation in Rats. The authors took rats, and implanted DBS electrodes in the infralimbic cortex. This area is part of the vmPFC. It's believed to be the rat equivalent of the human region BA25, the subgenual cingulate cortex, which is the most common target for DBS in depression. The current settings (100 microA, 130 Hz, 90 microsec) were chosen to be similar to the ones used in humans.

In a standard rat model of depression, the forced-swim test, infralimbic DBS exerted antidepressant-like effects. DBS was equally as effective as imipramine, a potent antidepressant, in terms of reducing "depression-like" behaviours, namely immobility.

This is not all that surprising. Almost everything which treats depression in humans also reduces immobility in this test (along with few things which don't treat it). Much more interesting is what did and did not block the effects of DBS in these rats.

First off, DBS worked even when the rat's infralimbic cortex had been destroyed by the toxin ibotenic acid. This strongly suggests that DBS does not work simply by activating the infralimbic cortex, even though this is where the electrodes were implanted.

Crucially, infralimbic lesions did not have an antidepressant effect per se, which also rules out the theory that DBS works by inactivating this region. (Infralimbic lesions produced by other methods did have a mild antidepressant effect, but it was smaller than the effect of DBS. This may still be important, however.)

What did block the effects of DBS was the depletion of serotonin (5HT). Serotonin is known to its friends as the brain's "happy chemical", although it's a bit more complicated than that. Most antidepressants target serotonin. And rats whose serotonin systems had been lesioned got no benefit from DBS in this study.

So this suggests that DBS might work by affecting serotonin, and indeed, DBS turned out to greatly increase serotonin release, even in a distant part of the brain (the hippocampus). Interestingly this lasted for nearly two hours after the electrodes were switched off.

Depletion of another neurotransmitter, noradrenaline, did not alter the effects of DBS.

Overall, it seems that infralimbic DBS works by increasing serotonin release, but that this is not because it activates or inactivates the infralimbic cortex itself. Rather, nearby structures must be involved. The most likely explanation is that DBS affects nearby white-matter tracts carrying signals between other areas of the brain; the infralimbic cortex might just happen to be "by the roadside". Many researchers believe that this is how DBS works in humans, but this is the first hard evidence for this.

Of course, evidence from rats is never all that hard when it comes to human mental illness. We need to know whether the same thing is true in people. As luck would have it, you can temporarily reduce human serotonin levels with a technique called acute tryptophan depletion This reverses the effects of antidepressants in many people. If this rat data is right, it should also temporarily reverse the benefits of DBS. Someone should do this experiment as soon as possible - I'd like to do it myself, but I'm British, and all the DBS research happens in America. Bah, humbug, old bean.

There's a couple of others things to note here. In other behavioural tests, infralimbic DBS also had antidepressant-like effects: it seemed to reduce anxiety, and it made rats more resistant to the stress of having electrical shocks (although only slightly.) Finally, DBS in another region, the striatum, had no antidepressant effect at all. That's a bit odd because DBS of the striatum does seem to treat depression in humans - but the part of the striatum targeted here, the caudate-putamen, is quite separate to the one targeted in human depression, the nucleus accumbens.

Hamani, C., Diwan, M., Macedo, C., Brandão, M., Shumake, J., Gonzalez-Lima, F., Raymond, R., Lozano, A., Fletcher, P., & Nobrega, J. (2009). Antidepressant-Like Effects of Medial Prefrontal Cortex Deep Brain Stimulation in Rats Biological Psychiatry DOI: 10.1016/j.biopsych.2009.08.025

Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) is in. There's been much buzz about its use in severe depression, and it has a long if less glamorous record of success in Parkinson's disease. Now that it's achieved momentum as a treatment in psychiatry, DBS is being tried in a range of conditions including chronic pain, obsessive-compulsive disorder and Tourette's Syndrome. Is the hype justified? Yes - but the scientific and ethical issues are more complex, and more interesting, than you might think.

Biological Psychiatry have just published this report of DBS in a man who suffered from severe, untreatable Tourette's syndrome, as well as OCD. The work was performed by a German group, Neuner et. al. (who also have a review paper just out), and they followed the patient up for three years after implanting high-frequency stimulation electrodes in an area of the brain called the nucleus accumbens. It's fascinating reading, if only for the insight into the lives of the patients who receive this treatment.

The patient suffered from the effects of auto-aggressive behavior such as self-mutilation of the lips, forehead, and fingers, coupled with the urge to break glass. He was no longer able to travel by car because he had broken the windshield of his vehicle from the inside on several occasions.

... An impressive development was the cessation of the self-mutilation episodes and the urge to destroy glass. No medication was being used ... Also worthy of note is the fact that the patient stopped smoking during the 6 months after surgery. In the follow-up period, he has successfully refrained from smoking. He reports that he has no desire to smoke and that it takes him no effort to refrain from doing so.

For DBS in Tourette's patients, the globus pallidus internus (posteroventrolateral part, anteromedial part), the thalamus (centromedian nucleus, substantia periventricularis, and nucleus ventro-oralis internus) and the nucleus accumbens/anterior limb of the internal capsule have all been used as target points.