Depression and Bipolar info explaining the latest research in everyday English

28Mar/10Off

Options for mild or moderate depression

The Harvard Mental Health Letter (HMHL) is reporting on the implications of a meta-analysis study into the efficacy of medication for mild, moderate and severe major depression.

[That sounds/reads bizarre, doesn’t it? Surely ‘major’ means that it’s flown past being a ‘mild’ or ‘moderate’ depression… but I digress.]

The study by Fournier et al reduced 2,164 studies to just six worth analysis (by their standards) and found that medication only helps those with severe depression.

There are, of course, limitations with the study – the low number of studies in their meta-analysis being just one, but it does allow the HMHL an opportunity to remind us that exercise, psychotherapy and relaxation are powerful aids in the fight against the black dog for those suffering mild to moderate depression.

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Source:

Fournier JC, et al. “Antidepressant Drug Effects and Depression Severity: A Patient-Level Meta-Analysis,” Journal of the American Medical Association (Jan. 6, 2010): Vol. 303,
No. 1, pp. 47–53.

Harvard Mental Health Letter, April 2010 – www.health.harvard.edu


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7Sep/09Off

Letter to my psychiatrist: 7th Sept 2009

G’day D,

I’m due to see you next week, but I’ll be in Sydney on that day so I guess I won’t see you until the appointment in October.

I think we need to look at a different drug regimen – perhaps the Efexor is losing its efficacy with me. I certainly feel like I’m unravelling at a faster and faster rate.

Just today I have deliberately and successfully over-priced my services on a quote in order to not get the work. Normally I would have jumped at the chance to earn $15-20k for a month or so of work, but I can’t even complete the simple tasks I have at the moment, let alone entertain the prospect of taking on more responsibilities.

The escapist fantasies still loom large in my thoughts and I wonder if I am bringing them to fruition with my own behaviour – all I want to do is expire, to have my light extinguish itself peacefully; to suffer a cardiac arrest from which I do not recover, an infection from a superbug from which there is no cure.

I feel like I am sliding down an ever-increasing spiral, the speed picking up and the wind blowing in my hair as I dissemble, deteriorate and hopefully die.

Naturally, being the skilled showman I am, I can smile and laugh and cause merriment in others. But each day finds me sadder and sadder, each night a torture as I smile for my wife and try not to scare her.

As a pop song in the mid-late 1990s had it, “the drugs don’t work.” Not at the moment, at any rate.

Yours…



   

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