Kitobni o'qish: «Psychotherapy»
PREFACE
"Prefaces are a great waste of time," said Francis Bacon, "and, though they seem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery." In spite of this deterring expression of the Lord Chancellor, the author ventures to write a short apologia pro libro suo. Five years ago he began at Fordham University School of Medicine a series of lectures on Psychotherapy. This book consists of material gathered for these lectures. It will be found in many ways to partake more of the nature of a course of lectures than a true text-book. In this it follows French rather than English or American precedent. Its relation to lectures makes it more diffuse than the author would have wished, but this is offered as an explanation, not an excuse. Addressed to medical students and not specialists the language employed is as untechnical as possible, and, indeed, was meant as a rule to be such as young physicians might use to their patients for suggestion purposes.
The historical portion is probably longer than some may deem necessary. The place of psychotherapy in the past seemed so important, however, and psychotherapeutics masqueraded under so many forms that an historical résumé of its many phases appeared the best kind of an introduction to a book which pleads for more extensive and more deliberate use of psychotherapy in our time. The historical portion was developed for the lectures on the history of medicine at Fordham and perhaps that fact helps to account for the space allotted to this section of the book.
So far as the author knows, this is the first time in the history of medicine that an attempt has been made to write a text-book of the whole subject of psychotherapy. We have had many applications of psychotherapeutics to functional and organic nervous and mental disease and also indirectly to nutritional diseases; but no one apparently has attempted to systematize the application of psychotherapeutic principles, not only to functional diseases, but specifically to all the organic diseases. A chapter on the use of mental influence in anesthesia was, during the course of the preparation of this volume, written for Dr. Taylor Gwathmey's text-book on Anesthesia, which is to appear shortly (Appletons).
No one knows better than the author how difficult is the subject and how liable to misunderstanding and abuse. He appreciates well, too, how almost hopeless it would be to make a perfectly satisfactory text-book of so large a subject at the first attempt. The present volume is founded, however, on considerable experience, on wide reading in the subject, and on much reflection on its problems. It is offered to those who are interested in the old new department of psychotherapy until a better one is available. The author's principal idea in the book has been to help students and practitioners of {viii} medicine to care for (curare) suffering men and women and not cases, to treat individual human beings, not compounds in which various chemical, physical and biological qualities have been observed, diligently enough and with noteworthy success, but incompletely as yet, and quite without the satisfying adequacy which it is to be hoped will result from future investigations.
James J. Walsh.
110 West Seventy-fourth Street,
New York City.
INTRODUCTION
To physicians who are students not alone of the manifestations of disease but also of the workings of human nature, there are few chapters in the history of medicine more interesting than those which record the welcome by each generation of the supposed advances in the treatment of disease. Each generation announced its cures for diseases, provided its remedies to relieve symptoms, and invented methods of treatment that seemed to put off the inevitable tendency toward dissolution. Yet few of these inventions and discoveries maintain their early reputations, and succeeding generations invariably abandon most of this supposed medical progress in favor of ideas of their own, which later suffer a like fate. Plausible theories have not been lacking to support the successive remedies and methods of treatment, but the general acceptance of them was always founded far less upon theory than upon actual observation of their supposed efficacy. Certain remedies were given and the patients began to improve. Patients who did not have the remedies continued to suffer, and sometimes the course of their disease led to a fatal termination. Even with the best remedies death sometimes took place, but that was easily accounted for on the ground that the disease had secured so firm a hold that it could not be dislodged, even by a good remedy. The connection of cause and effect between the administration of the remedy and the improvement and eventual cure of the patient seemed to be demonstrated.
The archives of old-time medicine disprove the notion that clinical learning and teaching—that is, observation and demonstration at the bedside—were not part of medical education until quite modern times. The medical books of the thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth centuries are full of descriptions of actual cases, while, over a millenium before, one of Martial's epigrams tells of a patient who dreaded the coming of his physician because he brought with him so many students, whose cold hands gave chills to the poor victim.
Coincidence and Consequence.—In spite of the opportunities for careful observation thus afforded and the facilities for training clinical observers in medicine, many remedies came into vogue, were enthusiastically applied, and then, after a time, went out of use and were heard of no more. Sometimes they were subsequently revived and had even a greater vogue than when originally brought out. But most of these remedies eventually went forever into the lumber room of disused treatments. Of the many thousands of remedies which had the approval and the praise of past generations, two score at most hold a place in the pharmacopeia of to-day.
There are many reasons for this initial success and eventual failure; but the most important explanation lies not so much in reason as in coincidence. In the majority of human ills there is a definite tendency to get better, and almost anything that is given to the patient will be followed by relief and improvement. The recovery is not, however, on account of the remedy, but occurs only after a definite succession of events that would have taken place either with or without the remedy.
Mental Influence.—What the old physicians did not, as a rule, appreciate, or at least failed to value at its true significance, was the effect upon the patient's mind of the taking of a remedy. Because of the confidence with which it was given, the patient, having full faith in the physician who gave it, became impressed with the idea that now he must get well. The very presence of the physician and his assurance that the illness was not serious and that many symptoms that were sources of dread to the patient were only concomitant conditions of the ailment, naturally to be expected under the circumstances, relieved the patient from worry, and so gave his nervous energy a chance to exert itself in bringing about improvement. In other words, the suggestive elements of the presence of the physician and the taking of his remedy were important therapeutic factors which enabled what was an absolutely inefficient remedy, as the event proved when closer observations of it had been made, to relieve even serious symptoms, or helped a weak remedy to accomplish good results by strengthening the patient's resistive vitality.
In recent years we have come to study much more closely this suggestive element and to appreciate better its true value. Suggestion has always been an important factor in therapeutics, but has been used indeliberately and indirectly rather than with careful forethought. Not that the great thinkers in medicine have not known its value and have not used it deliberately on appropriate occasions, but that the profession generally has been so much occupied with the merely material means of curing that practitioners have not realized the influence for good of the psychotherapeutic factors they were unconsciously employing.
The history of the phases of psychotherapy brings out clearly how much it has always meant in the curing of human ills.
Constancy of Psychotherapy in Medicine.—Though we are prone to think of it as coming to attention in our time, psychotherapy has played an important role in every phase of the history of medicine. It has always been at work, though usually under other names, and has been effectively used without conscious direction. Germs and their pernicious activity were not recognized before our time, yet many definite precautions against them, such as cooking of food and the keeping of perishable goods on ice, which now seem to be the direct result of our knowledge of bacteriology, were commonly practiced. The influence of the mind on the body exerted itself quite apart from man's recognition of its place or appreciation of its power. When employed unconsciously it was in many ways even more effective than it will be when a consciousness of the means by which it is applied becomes more general. For most people are unwilling to confess that their minds exercise as much influence as now proves to be the case, and that over-solicitude means so much in inhibiting the curative powers of nature, and that it is this which is favorably affected by psychotherapy.
The great physicians employed psychotherapy very commonly, and on that account many of their disciples were inclined to think that they were neglectful of medication and other remedial measures. At all times physicians have had to be large-minded and have had to recognize the limitations of medicine in their own time, to turn to other agents and to appreciate how much their own influence on the patient and that of the patient on himself meant for the relief of symptoms and the increase of resistive vitality.
Some of the phases of indeliberate psychotherapy, however, are even more interesting than this chapter of the history of genuine and deliberate psycho-therapeutics. Not a few of the remedies recommended, even by distinguished physicians, were utterly inert, yet accomplished good through their effect upon the patient's mind. If we were to omit all reference to certain favorite prescriptions that passed down from generation to generation, sometimes for centuries, yet eventually proved to be quite inefficient for the purpose for which they were employed, what a large lacuna would be left in the history of medical treatment! Galen's theriac is a typical example of this. Still more strikingly the role of psychotherapy is seen in the many remedies that were recommended at various times for such self-limited diseases as erysipelas, ordinary coughs and colds, pneumonia and typhoid fever. Anything that was administered just before the change for the better came in these diseases, or that was persistently taken until that change came, was proclaimed as curative.
An even more interesting chapter in the positive history of psychotherapy is that which shows how the value of genuine remedies was exaggerated by suggestion, and how these remedies became therapeutic fads, and sometimes almost seemed to be cure-alls. What a large place antimony holds in medical history, though it is now entirely discredited! How beneficent has venesection seemed, though it is now frankly confessed that it has but a narrow usefulness for a very circumscribed set of ills! Calomel in large doses has a history very like that of antimony. Alcohol in various forms, now so strikingly losing its hold in therapeutics, must also be placed in this category.
Psychotherapy has perhaps had its most fruitful field of potency in connection with discoveries in the physical sciences. Whenever a discovery has been made in any science, an application of it to medicine has been mooted by some fertile mind, though as a rule it eventually proved to have no place in medicine. One might ordinarily expect that the suggestion would be latent only when the discovery was in one of the sciences allied to medicine, but this relation has not been necessary. Discoveries in astronomy even, in light, in electricity, in every department of physical science, have each been given their opportunity to affect patients' minds favorably, and have succeeded.
Irregular Phases of Psychotherapy.—The quack has always been a psycho-therapeutist par excellence. His main stock in trade has been his knowledge of men and his power to convince them that he was able to do them good, so that he could tap all the sources of energy that were in the patient, some of them quite latent, yet of great efficiency. Often what the quack and the nostrum vender did for their patients was calculated to do harm rather than good, yet the mental energy aroused by the appeal to the patients' minds was sufficient not only to neutralize the evil, but to release curative powers that otherwise would not have been called out. The advertisements of the nostrum maker have proved especially effective, and printer's ink, properly administered, has been a most potent remedy.
Drug Therapeutics.—Many of the newer phases of mental healing pretend to do away with drugs. Nothing is farther from my purpose than to condemn drugs: I am simply pointing out how much supposed drug efficacy has been due to the mental influence on the patient of the suggestion that went with the drugs. There has been no thought at all of pushing drugs out of the extremely valuable place they occupy in medicine, for I yield to no one in my thorough conviction of their usefulness. But the efficacious element in the administration of many drugs has been entirely the confidence of the physician in them, which confidence was communicated to the patient's mind. Undoubtedly many highly recommended drugs have in themselves tended to do harm rather than good, and have been useful only because of this psycho-therapeutic element. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes' famous expression, that if all the drugs that had ever been used had been thrown into the sea instead of put into patients' bodies the human race might have been the better for it, should not be taken to mean that a great many drugs are not efficacious. Above all, it leaves out the most important consideration, that patients, while taking drugs that are either inert or at times even slightly harmful, have had their mental attitude towards themselves and their ills so favorably modified by the repeated suggestion that the result has been distinctly beneficial.
There are probably two score of drugs that are simply invaluable—magnificent auxiliaries in times of physical and mental distress. To realize and appreciate the place of these drugs, their limitations, how they should be administered, and what they can do under varying circumstances, has taken us centuries. When to these drugs there is intelligently attached the influence that psychotherapy has over the patient, their efficacy is probably doubled. Without that influence nature often works against the drug and lowers its efficiency. That is the reason why physicians, when themselves patients, do not respond well to drugs. Familiarity has bred contempt for some of the old-fashioned remedies, but the contempt that comes from familiarity is often quite undeserved, and many of the things that we thus undervalue because of accustomedness have a power that should be respected. People in a dynamite factory become so familiar with danger as to despise it at times, but that does not lessen the energy of the dynamite when occasion arises. When the physician himself is ill he is likely to remember his failures with drugs rather than his successes. That is, however, only the tendency of human nature to a certain pessimistic outlook where we ourselves are concerned.
There is another class in whom familiarity with drugs has become a serious matter. They are the patients who have made the rounds of physicians, have learned to read prescriptions, have looked up the significance of the various remedies that they have seen prescribed, have heard doctors talk about them, and remember only what is depreciatory, and who critically examine a prescription and conclude that the remedies recommended are not likely to do them good. Every physician knows the hopeless condition such patients are in. Mental attitude will greatly help drugs, and it can utterly undo the effect of all drugs except those which have certain drastic mechanical effects. Drug failure in these cases is another illustration of how much psychotherapy means in connection with drug treatment.
Not only is there no intent, then, to lessen respect for drugs in this textbook of psychotherapeutics, but the one thing that the author would like to emphasize is the necessity for giving drugs in sufficient doses. Recommendations in text-books of medicine are often vague in their indications as to dosage, and surprisingly small doses are, in consequence, sometimes prescribed. Practically the only remedial element of such small doses is the mental effect on the patient, whereas a combination of pharmaceutic and psychotherapeutic factors would be much more efficacious. It is not unusual to find that the patient who is supposed to be taking nux vomica as an appetizer or a muscle tonic, or in order to produce heart equilibrium in the cardiac neuroses, is getting five drops, two and a half minims, three times a day, when he should be getting at least twenty drops with the same frequency. I have known a physician to prescribe ten grains of bromid where thirty to sixty grains should have been prescribed, and such valuable pharmaceutic materials as bismuth and pepsin are often given in doses so small that they preclude all possibility of benefit except by mental influence.
With therapeutic nihilism or skepticism of the power of drugs I have no sympathy. As a teacher of medicine I have for years emphasized the necessity of the use not of conventional doses of drugs for every patient, but of doses proportioned to the body weight. It seems to me quite absurd to give the same amount of a drug to a woman who weighs a hundred pounds and to a man who weighs two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscular tissue. I believe in using drugs well up to their physiological effects if the drugs are really indicated.
With regard to other modes of treatment the same thing is true. Where they are indicated, balneo-therapy, hydro-therapy, mechano-therapy, electro-therapy, massage, and all the forms of external treatment, should be used rationally and not merely conventionally. The individual and not his affection must be treated. In all of these methods there is a psychotherapeutic element, and for the benefit of the patient this, too, must be recognized and used to its fullest extent.
Supposed Novelties in Mind Healing.—We hear much of mental healing, of absent treatment, of various phases of suggestion, and of the marvelous therapeutic efficiency of complete denial of the existence of evil, and sometimes we wonder whether all these things are not offshoots of our recent growth in the knowledge of psychology. It is possible, however, to find, masquerading under the head of the efficacy of nostrums in the past, the equivalents for all the activities of mental healing of the present. It all depends on what is the scientific fad of the hour. If it is electricity, then some mode of electrical treatment serves the purpose of suggesting cure, and relief of symptoms follows. If drug treatment of any particular kind is attracting much attention, then the suggestion is most effective that is founded on this basis. Perkins' tractors or the Leyden jar are effective at one time, radium or the X-rays at another, sarsaparilla or dilute alcohol at another, while a generation that is much interested in psychology may find, as ours does to a noteworthy degree, quite sufficient favorable suggestion for the cure of many ills in purely psychic influences, either direct or indirect, deliberate or unconscious.
Men and women do not change, their ills are about the same, and except for certain definite scientific remedies it is only the superficial mode of treatment that differs very much. Psychotherapy has always been an important element in most of the therapeutics of history. With so much accomplished in the past by indirection, there can be no doubt but that important advances in psychotherapeutics must result from the extension of its deliberate use.
We have not yet reached a point in our knowledge of the mode of the influence of the mind on the body that will enable us to treat this large subject in a scientific manner. What has been written is set down rather as suggestive than conclusive. There is almost nothing that the human mind cannot do, its power ranging from the ability to delay death for hours or even days to causing sudden or unlooked for death under strong emotional strain. But we are as yet without definite data as to the possibilities of the immense power for good, and also for ill, that lie unrevealed in this domain. Anything that makes for observations by a large body of trained observers in a large number of cases will almost surely serve to bring about a development of this subject of valuable practical application.
Psychotherapy is open to large abuse. It will happen that men who are not trained in diagnosis will occasionally try to use psychotherapeutic means when what is needed is the knife, the actual cautery, a good purge, some strong drug, or other efficient remedy whose value has been demonstrated and which any trained physician can use. It will also happen that men who lack tact will occasionally disturb patients' minds still further by what they say to them in a mistaken attempt at psychotherapy, and will sometimes suggest other symptoms and make sufferers worse by their clumsy attempts to remove symptoms that are already present. Every good thing, however, is open to the same objection. Even good food is abused. The use of drugs has been so abused that the abuse has done much to discredit medicine at many periods. There is a Latin proverb which says: "From the abuse of a thing no argument against its use can be drawn." We cannot prevent liability to abuse, and psychotherapy is sure to meet that fate. It has been abused in the past, and is abused now, and always will be abused, but formal study of psychotherapy and its deliberate employment will do more than anything else to limit the inevitable abuse.
If its place in history and in medicine is definitely set forth, its problems squarely faced and their solutions definitely suggested, it is much less likely to be misused. At least, then, the whole subject is open for free and frank discussion and for such additions and subtractions as may make this department of therapeutics as important, or at least in a measure as valuable, as climato-therapy or balneo-therapy or mechano-therapy or electro-therapy. The development of each of these subjects has proved helpful. It is true that each specialist has, in the eyes of his colleagues in general practice, exaggerated the significance of his own department. This is true in all specialties, however, and psychotherapy deserves quite as much as any of the subjects we have mentioned to have a place among the text-books of medicine; and so this one is committed to the judgment of clinical observers. Long ago Horace said:
Si quid novisti rectius his candidus imperti
Si non his utere mecum.
