What is Cotard’s syndrome? The rare mental illness which makes people think they are dead

Tags

Cotard's syndrome, delusion, denial, self-existence, Walking Corpse Syndrome

What is Cotard’s syndrome? The rare mental illness which makes people think they are dead

A rare mental illness can make the sufferer believe they are dead, partly dead or do not exist.

Chronicled in the Washington Post by Meeri Kim, Cotard’s syndrome — sometimes dubbed ‘Walking Corpse syndrome’ — is a condition where patients believe they are dead, parts of their body are dead or that they do not exist. Any evidence to support the fact they are alive is “explained away” by sufferers, according to the Post.

It is not classified under the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-V) but is recognised as a “disease of human health” in the International Classification of Diseases. According to Mind: “It is linked with psychosis, clinical depression and schizophrenia”.

A spokeswoman for Mind told The Independent the syndrome was “certainly rare”.

“Cotard’s syndrome is a type of delusion that is usually associated with denial of self-existence,” she said.

“The person experiencing the delusion might believe that they are dead, dying, parts of their body do not exist or they do not need to do activities to keep themselves alive (drink, eat, basic hygiene etc.)”

French neurologist Jules Cotard identified the first case in the 1800s. He described a woman suffering from the condition as affirming “she has no brain, no nerves, no chest, no stomach, no intestines… only skin and bones of a decomposing body”.

Esmé Weijun Wang spoke to the Post about her experience of the condition, which she suffered from for two months, explaining that after weeks of losing “her sense of reality” she woke up and told her husband she had actually died a month before, when she had fainted on a plane.

She said: “I was convinced that I had died on that flight and I was in the afterlife and hadn’t realised it until that moment.”

Ms Wang, who was previously diagnosed with a form of bipolar-type schizoaffective disorder, later recovered and “no longer saw herself as a rotting corpse”.

A Mind spokesperson said “in terms of prevalence, there seems to be very few studies” meaning it is difficult to assess how many people are affected by the condition.

The Washington Post says “what causes Cotard’s syndrome and other delusions is a matter of debate” and speculates on a range of possibilities including brain impairment.

Professor and clinical psychologist Peter Kinderman told The Independent: “This syndrome is extremely rare so there’s not much known about it, most literature on it is individual case studies over many years.”

He says one theory about the condition’s cause is that when “conditions exist to make someone feel confused or distressed” the individual can combine all their thoughts and beliefs – some of which may be distressing and unusual, with the feeling that they don’t recognise themselves.

He said this could mean “people come up with the best conclusion they can to explain the experiences they’re having, which may be that they’re dead.”

In 2013, a British man called Graham was interviewed in the New Scientist. He was diagnosed with Cotard’s syndrome after believing his “brain was dead”. He believed he had killed it after a suicide attempt following severe depression.

Graham said he visited a graveyard during this time as “it was the closest I could get to death”.

He said: “I didn’t need to eat, or speak, or do anything.”

Graham’s condition gradually improved with psychotherapy and drug treatment.

You needn’t be wrong to be called delusional

Tags

conspiracies, credibility, delusion, delusions, DSM, fixed beliefs, Martha Mitchell effect, mental health issues, paranoia, stigma

You needn’t be wrong to be called delusional

It’s not clear who forcibly sedated her in 1972. It’s not certain that she was admitted to a psychiatric ward in the following year. What’s definite though is that many people thought she was mad as she ranted about conspiracies in the White House during eccentric phone calls to the press. Questions about Martha Beall Mitchell’s sanity were encouraged by the Nixon administration, who consistently briefed against her and probably had her medicated against her will. But ultimately her claims were proven correct when the Watergate scandal broke.

Mitchell was the wife of the US attorney general and saw the planning and cover-up of the Watergate burglaries first-hand. In retrospect, her seemingly paranoid claims made sense and, in her honour, Harvard psychologist Brendan Maher named the Martha Mitchell effect after her to describe the situation where someone is incorrectly diagnosed as delusional but turns out to be right.

But, contrary to popular belief, the relationship between madness and truth is a complex one. They are made out to be strangers but often they are more like distant cousins.

This relationship has recently been acknowledged with the publication of the new version of the psychiatrists’ diagnostic manual (the DSM-5) where one of the most interesting but less noticed changes has been the redefinition of the delusion, a symptom that has long been considered the “basic characteristic of madness”.

Delusions, in the medical sense, are not simply a case of being mistaken, as the everyday use of the term suggests. They are profound and intensely held beliefs that seem barely swayed by evidence to the contrary – even to the point of believing in the bizarre. My heart has been replaced by steam. My thoughts are being stolen by satellites. The government communicates with me through birdsong.

But many delusions are not outlandishly eccentric, they are simply implausible. Consider the scenario where people believe that their neighbours are conspiring against them or that they are the subject of a film star’s secret affections. Occasionally, these beliefs turn out to be true, but this is not a reliable guide to whether someone is delusional or not. This was memorably illustrated by the psychiatrist Andrew Sims, who warned in his psychopathology textbook Symptoms in the Mind that spouses of people with delusions of infidelity may occasionally be driven to infidelity. This romantic betrayal does not suddenly cure their partner of their mental illness.

The general idea is that delusions represent a problem with how you believe – that is, a problem with forming and changing beliefs – not a problem with what you believe. In other words, simply believing something strange or unusual should not be considered a problem but having “stuck” beliefs that are completely impervious to reality suggests something is mentally awry.

On the ground, mental health professionals are often required to decide if someone’s thinking indicates a disturbance in their understanding of the world, and this is where the new DSM-5 definition of a delusion may usher in a quiet revolution in psychiatry. No longer are psychiatrists asked to decide whether the patient has “a false belief based on incorrect inference about external reality that is firmly sustained despite what almost everyone else believes and despite what constitutes incontrovertible and obvious proof or evidence to the contrary”. A wordy and unhelpful definition that has so many logical holes you could drive a herd of unicorns through it.

Instead, the new definition of delusions describes them as fixed beliefs that are unswayed by clear or reasonable contradictory evidence, which are held with great conviction and are likely to share the common themes of psychosis: paranoia, grandiosity, bodily changes and so on. The belief being false is no longer central and this step forward makes it less likely that uncomfortable claims can be dismissed as signs of madness.

And this is where the larger issue lies. As happened with Martha Mitchell, claims against authorities are often dismissed by suggesting that the person has mental health problems.

History is littered with such examples but sadly there are enough contemporary cases to illustrate the point. In a controversy currently rocking Germany, evidence of money-laundering at a big bank has become a huge scandal, not least because it was dismissed as delusional seven years ago when the accuser was diagnosed with mental illness.

Closer to home, when the NHS whistleblower Kay Sheldon reported failings in the Care Quality Commission, the first response was to suggest she had a mental health problem and to commission a psychiatric assessment.

I have no idea whether these people had mental health difficulties but it should have had little bearing on how seriously their concerns were taken. The fact that their claims could be dismissed by allusions to poor mental health is part of the unfortunate stigma that still surrounds the issue. But the stigma goes both ways, and assuming people do not have mental health difficulties because they are correct is the flip side of this.

In the years after Martha Mitchell had been dismissed as delusional, it emerged, contrary to her claims, that she was under the care of her own psychiatrists, drinking heavily and, at times, suicidal. Nixon, for his part, said Watergate would never have happened if it wasn’t for Martha. Both believed that mental illness would undermine her credibility. History, however, came down on the side of truth.

At last, a promising alternative to antipsychotics for schizophrenia

Tags

antipsychotic drugs, causes, cognitive treatment, delusion, dropout rates, hallucinations, medication, psychosis, schizophrenia, side-effects, treatment

At last, a promising alternative to antipsychotics for schizophrenia

Imagine that, after feeling unwell for a while, you visit your GP. “Ah,” says the doctor decisively, “what you need is medication X. It’s often pretty effective, though there can be side-effects. You may gain weight. Or feel drowsy. And you may develop tremors reminiscent of Parkinson’s disease.” Warily, you glance at the prescription on the doctor’s desk, but she hasn’t finished. “Some patients find that sex becomes a problem. Diabetes and heart problems are a risk. And in the long term the drug may actually shrink your brain … ”

This scenario may sound far-fetched, but it is precisely what faces people diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since the 1950s, the illness has generally been treated using antipsychotic drugs – which, as with so many medications, were discovered by chance. A French surgeon investigating treatments for surgical shock found that one of the drugs he tried – the antihistamine chlorpromazine – produced powerful psychological effects. This prompted the psychiatrist Pierre Deniker to give the drug to some of his most troubled patients. Their symptoms improved dramatically, and a major breakthrough in the treatment of psychosis seemed to have arrived.

Many other antipsychotic drugs have followed in chlorpromazine’s wake and today these medications comprise 10% of total NHS psychiatric prescriptions. They are costly items: the NHS spends more on these medications than it does for any other psychiatric drug, including antidepressants. Globally, around $14.5bn is estimated to be spent on antipsychotics each year.

Since the 1950s the strategy of all too many NHS mental health teams has been a simple one. Assuming that psychosis is primarily a biological brain problem, clinicians prescribe an antipsychotic medication and everyone does their level best to get the patient to take it, often for long periods. There can be little doubt that these drugs make a positive difference, reducing delusions and hallucinations and making relapse less likely – provided, that is, the patient takes their medication.

Advertisement

Unfortunately, dropout rates are high. This is partly because individuals sometimes don’t accept that they are ill. But a major reason is the side-effects. These vary from drug to drug, but they’re common and for many people are worse than the symptoms they are designed to treat.

In addition, antipsychotics don’t work for everyone. It is estimated that six months after first being prescribed them, as many as 50% of patients are either taking the drugs haphazardly or not at all.

The conventional treatment for this most severe of psychiatric illnesses, then, is expensive, frequently unpleasant, and not always effective even for those who carry on taking the drugs. But it is what we have relied upon – which helps to explain why the results of a clinical trial, recently published in The Lancet, have generated so much interest and debate.

A team led by Professor Anthony Morrison at the University of Manchester randomly assigned a group of patients, all of whom had opted not to take antipsychotics, to treatment as usual (involving a range of non-pharmaceutical care) or to treatment as usual plus a course of cognitive therapy (CT). Drop-out rates for the cognitive therapy were low, while its efficacy in reducing the symptoms of psychosis was comparable to what medication can achieve.

So what exactly is CT for schizophrenia? At its core is the idea that the patient should be encouraged to talk about their experiences – just as they would for every other psychological condition. Psychosis isn’t viewed as a biological illness that one either has or does not have. Instead, just like every other mental disorder, psychotic experiences are seen as the severest instances of thoughts and feelings – notably delusions and hallucinations – that many of us experience from time to time.

Working together, the patient and therapist develop a model of what’s causing the experiences, and why they’re recurring. These factors will vary from person to person, so what is produced is a bespoke account of the individual’s experience, which is then used to guide treatment. For example, a person so worried by paranoid fears that they won’t set foot outside might be helped to trace the roots of their anxiety to past experiences; to gradually test out their fearful thoughts; and to learn to manage their anxiety while getting on with the activities they enjoy. An individual troubled by hearing voices will be helped to understand what’s triggering these voices, and to develop a more confident, empowering relationship with them.

These are early days. Nevertheless, most of the meta-analyses of CT’s efficacy for psychosis, when added to standard treatment, have indicated definite (albeit modest) benefits for patients, with the latest showing that CT is better than other psychological treatments for reducing delusions and hallucinations. The latest guidelines from the UK’s National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (Nice) recommend it for those at risk of psychosis and, when combined with medication, for people with an ongoing problem.

But not everyone is convinced, and although the research published in The Lancet is encouraging, it was small scale. CT for psychosis is still evolving, and we think that evolution should prioritise three key areas.

First, we must focus on understanding and treating individual psychotic experiences. As we’ve reported in a previous post, there is increasing reason to doubt the usefulness of the diagnosis “schizophrenia”. The term has been used as a catch-all for an assortment of unusual thoughts and feelings that often have no intrinsic connections, and aren’t qualitatively different from those experienced by the general population. Each psychotic experience may therefore require a tailored treatment.

Second, we must build on the recent transformation in understanding the causes of psychotic experiences, taking one factor at a time (insomnia, say, or worry), developing an intervention to change it, and then observing the effects of that intervention on an individual’s difficulties.

And finally, we must listen to what patients want from their treatment – for example, by focusing on improving levels of wellbeing, which tend to be very low among people with schizophrenia.

What about costs compared with drug treatment? A course of CBT is typically just over £1,000, but if it leads to a reduction in the amount of time patients spend in hospital and their use of other services, or a return to work, then it easily pays for itself.

The Nice guidance on psychosis and schizophrenia, updated this year, is unequivocal:

“The systematic review of economic evidence showed that provision of CBT to people with schizophrenia in the UK improved clinical outcomes at no additional cost. This finding was supported by economic modelling undertaken for this guideline, which suggested that provision of CBT might result in net cost savings to the NHS, associated with a reduction in future hospitalisation rates.”

If the real promise of cognitive therapy can be fulfilled, we may at last have a genuinely effective, relatively cheap, and side-effect-free alternative to antipsychotics for those patients who don’t wish to take them. Watch this space.

Daniel and Jason Freeman are the authors of Paranoia: the 21st Century Fear. Daniel is a professor of clinical psychology and a Medical Research Council Senior Clinical Fellow at the University of Oxford, and a Fellow of University College, Oxford. Twitter: @ProfDFreeman. Jason is a psychology writer. Twitter: @JasonFreeman100

The “Truman Show” delusion: Psychosis in the global village

Tags

culture, delusion, psychosis, reality tv, The Truman Show

The “Truman Show” delusion: Psychosis in the global village

The article focuses on a type of delusion in which individuals believe they are being filmed and which they believe will be broadcast to others for their entertainment.

(Please click the above link to access the full article)