Drugs and Disease: A Look Forward

First published 2/18/2014.

Former National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) director Alan Leshner has been vilified by many for referring to addiction as a chronic, relapsing “brain disease.” What often goes unmentioned is Leshner’s far more interesting characterization of addiction as the “quintessential biobehavioral disorder.”

Multifactorial illnesses present special challenges to our way of thinking about disease. Addiction and other biopsychosocial disorders often show symptoms at odds with disease, as people generally understand it. For patients and medical professionals alike, questions about the disease aspect of addiction tie into larger fears about the medicalization of human behavior.

These confusions are mostly understandable. Everybody knows what cancer is—a disease of the cells. Schizophrenia? Some kind of brain illness. But addiction? Addiction strikes many people as too much a part of the world, impacted too strongly by environment, culture, behavior, psychology, to qualify. But many diseases have these additional components. In the end, the meaning of addiction matters less than the physiological facts of addiction.

One of the attractions of medical models of addiction is that there is such an extensive set of data supporting that alignment. Specifically, as set down in a famous paper by National Institute of Drug Abuse director Nora Volkow and co-author Joanna Fowler: “Understanding the changes in the brain which occur in the transition from normal to addictive behavior has major implications in public health…. We postulate that intermittent dopaminergic activation of reward circuits secondary to drug self-administration leads to dysfunction of the orbitofrontal cortex via the striato-thalamo-orbitofrontal circuit.” This cascade of events is often referred to as the “hijacking” of the brain by addictive drugs, but nothing is really being hijacked. Rather, the abusive use of drugs changes the brain, and that should come as no surprise, since almost everything we do in the world has the potential of changing the brain in some way. “Why are we so surprised that when you take a poison a thousand times, it makes some changes in your head?” said the former director of a chemical dependency treatment program at the University of Minnesota. “It makes sense that [addictive drugs] change things.”

Critics like Fernando Vidal object to a perceived shift from “having a brain” to “being a brain.” He is saying that he cannot see the point of “privileging” the brain as a locus for the study of human behavior. In “Addiction and the Brain-Disease Fallacy,” which appeared in Frontiers in Psychiatry, Sally Satel and Scott Lillienfeld write that “the brain disease model obscures the dimension of choice in addiction, the capacity to respond to incentives, and also the essential fact people use drugs for reasons (as consistent with a self-medication hypothesis).”

An excellent example of the excesses of the anti-brain discussions is an article by Rachel Hammer of Mayo Clinic and colleagues, in the American Journal of Bioethics-Neuroscience. “Many believed that a disease diagnosis diminishes moral judgment while reinforcing the imperative that the sick persons take responsibility for their condition and seek treatment.” But only a few paragraphs later, the authors admit: “Scholars have theorized that addiction-as-disease finds favor among recovering addicts because it provides a narrative that allows the person simultaneously to own and yet disown deviant acts while addicted.” Furthermore: “Addiction reframed as a pathology of the weak-brained (or weak-gened) bears just as must potential for wielding stigma and creating marginalized populations." But again, the risk of this potentially damaging new form of stigma “was not a view held by the majority of our addicted participants…”

And so on. The anti-disease model authors seem not to care that addicted individuals are often immensely helped by, and hugely grateful for, disease conceptions of their disorder, even though Hammer is willing to admit that the disease conception has “benefits for addicts’ internal climates.” In fact, it often helps addicts establish a healthier internal mental climate, in which they can more reasonably contemplate treatment. Historian David Courtwright, writing in BioSocieties, says that the most obvious reason for this conundrum is that “the brain disease model has so far failed to yield much practical therapeutic value.” The disease paradigm has not greatly increased the amount of “actionable etiology” available to medical and public health practitioners. “Clinicians have acquired some drugs, such as Wellbutrin and Chantix for smokers, Campral for alcoholics or buprenorphine for heroin addicts, but no magic bullets.” Physicians and health workers are “stuck in therapeutic limbo,” Courtwright believes.

“If the brain disease model ever yields a pharmacotherapy that curbs craving, or a vaccine that blocks drug euphoria, as some researchers hope,” Courtwright says, “we should expect the rapid medicalization of the field. Under those dramatically cost-effective circumstances, politicians and police would be more willing to surrender authority to physicians.” The drug-abuse field is characterized by, “at best, incomplete and contested medicalization.” That certainly seems to be true. If we are still contesting whether the brain has anything essential to do with addiction, then yes, almost everything about the field remains “incomplete and contested.”

Sociologists Nikolas Rose and Joelle M. Abi-Rached, in their book Neuro, take the field of sociology to task for its “often unarticulated conception of human beings as sense making creatures, shaped by webs of signification that are culturally and historically variable and embedded in social institutions that owe nothing substantial to biology.”

And for those worried about problems with addicts in the legal system, specifically, over issues of free will, genetic determinism, criminal culpability, and the “diseasing” of everything, Rose and Abi-Rached bring good news: “Probabilistic arguments, to the effect that persons of type A, or with condition B, are in general more likely to commit act X, or fail to commit act Y, hold little or no sway in the process of determining guilt.” And this seems unlikely to change in the likely future, despite the growing numbers of books and magazine articles saying that it will.

Opponents of the disease model of addiction and other mental disorders are shocked, absolutely shocked, at the proliferation of “neuro” this and “neuro” that, particularly in the fields of advertising and self-improvement, where neurotrainers and neuroenhancing potions are the talk of the moment. Sociologists claim to see some new and sinister configuration of personhood, where a journalist might just see a pile of cheesy advertising and a bunch of fast-talking science hucksters maneuvering for another shot at the main chance. When has selling snake oil ever been out of fashion?

For harm reductionists, addiction is sometimes viewed as a learning disorder. This semantic construction seems to hold out the possibility of learning to drink or use drugs moderately after using them addictively. The fact that some non-alcoholics drink too much and ought to cut back, just as some recreational drug users need to ease up, is certainly a public health issue—but one that is distinct in almost every way from the issue of biochemical addiction. By concentrating on the fuzziest part of the spectrum, where problem drinking merges into alcoholism, we’ve introduced fuzzy thinking with regard to at least some of the existing addiction research base. And that doesn’t help anybody find common ground.

Graphics Credit: http://www.docslide.com/disease-model/

More Hard Facts About Addiction Treatment

“Yes, we take your insurance.”

Recent reportage, such as Anne Fletcher’s book, Inside Rehab, has documented the mediocre application of vague and questionable procedures in many of the nation’s addiction rehab centers. You would not think the addiction treatment industry had much polish left to lose, but now comes a devastating analysis of a treatment industry at “an ethics crossroads,” according to Alison Knopf’s 3-part series in Addiction Professional. Knopf deconstructs the problems inherent in America’s uniquely problematic for-profit treatment industry, and documents a variety of abuses. We are not talking about Medicaid, Medicare, or Block Grants here. Private sector dollars, Knopf reaffirms, do not “guarantee that the treatment is evidence-based, worth the money, and likely to produce a good outcome.” Even Hazelden, it turns out, is prepared to offer you “equine therapy,” otherwise known as horseback riding.

Knopf, who is editor of Alcoholism and Drug Abuse Weekly, was specifically looking at private programs, paid for by insurance companies or by patients themselves. Who is in charge of enforcing specific standards of business practice when it comes to private drug and alcohol rehabs? Does the federal government have some manner of regulatory control? According to a physician with the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), the feds rely on the states to do the regulating. And according to state officials, the states look to the federal agencies for regulatory guidance.

All too often, the states routinely license but do not effectively monitor treatment facilities, or give useful consumer advice. Florida state officials do not even know, with any certainty, exactly how many treatment centers are in operation statewide. And even if state monitoring programs were effective and aggressively applied, “just because something is legal doesn’t mean it’s ethical,” said the SAMHSA official.

“We see this as a pivotal time for the treatment field as we have come to know it,” said Gary Enos, editor of Addiction Professional, in an email exchange with Addiction Inbox. Enos said that “the Affordable Care Act (ACA) will move addiction treatment more into the mainstream of healthcare, and this will mean that treatment centers' referral and insurance practices will come under more scrutiny than ever before.”

 Among the questionable practices documented by Knopf:

—Paying bounties and giving gifts to interventionists in return for client referrals.

Under Medicare, paying interventionists for referrals is banned. “In the private sector,” says a California treatment official, “it’s not illegal. But it is unethical.” According to treatment lobbyist Carol McDaid, “kickbacks happen all the time. Treatment centers that are doing this will do so at their own peril in the future,” she told Knopf.

—Giving assurances that treatment will be covered by insurance even though only a portion of the cost is likely to be covered.

Under the Affordable Care Act (ACA), says the SAMHSA official, “We are trying to position people to know more about their benefit package. And the industry has to be more straightforward about what the package will cover.” John Schwarzlose, CEO of the Betty Ford Center, told Knopf that “it’s very hard for ethical treatment providers to compete against insurance bait-and-switch,” when patients are told their insurance is good—but aren’t told that the coverage ends after 7 days, or that the daily maximum payout doesn’t meet the daily facility charges.

—Billing patients directly for proprietary nutrient supplements, brain scans, and other unproven treatment modalities.

“Equine therapy, Jacuzzi therapy, those are nice things, and maybe they help with the process of engagement,” said one therapist. “But people need to recognize that these ancillaries aren’t the essence of getting sober.”

—Engaging in dubious Internet marketing schemes.

You see them on the Internet: dozens and dozens of addiction and rehab referral sites. They list private services in various states, and look, on the surface, like legitimate information resources for people in need. As the owner of a blog about drugs and addiction, I hear from them constantly, asking me for links. “Family members and patients frequently have no way of knowing that a treatment program was really a call center they got to by Googling ‘rehab,’ writes Knopf, “and that the call center gets paid for referring patients to the actual treatment center. They don’t know that a program that promises to ‘work with’ health insurance knows full well the insurance will cover only a few days at the facility, and the rest will have to be paid out of pocket.” She points to a 2011 Wired magazine article, which said the Internet marketing cost of key words like “rehab” and “recovery” can be stratospheric. But “by spending that money—not necessarily providing good service—treatment provides can come out on top on searches. It’s the new marketing to the desperate.”

The group with the most to lose from revelations of this nature is the National Association of Addiction Treatment Providers (NAATP), the association representing both private and non-profit rehab programs. The Betty Ford Center has discontinued its membership in NAATP, a move that reflects the turmoil of the industry today. “It’s crazy that we have treatment centers inviting interventionists and other referents on a cruise, and then giving everyone an iPad,” Schwarzlose said.

As one man who lost his son to an overdose said: “I don’t get it. There’s the American Cancer Society, but I look for drugs and alcohol and I can’t find anything. There’s no National Association for Addictive Disease. How can this be?”

The investigative series will be featured in Addiction Professional’s March/April print issue. Enos believes that “influential treatment leaders are more interested than ever to see this debate aired more publically,” and says that the online publication of Knopf’s articles for the magazine has sparked “a great deal of discussion in treatment centers and on social media, including comments about other questionable practices that harm the field’s reputation.”

Craving Relief

Why is it so hard for addicts to say “enough?”

One of the useful things that may yet come out of the much-derided DSM-5 manual of mental disorders is the addition of craving as a criterion for addiction. “Cravings,” writes Dr. Omar Manejwala, a psychiatrist and the former medical director of Hazelden, “are at the heart of all addictive and compulsive behaviors.” Unlike the previous two volumes in this monthful of addiction books, Manejwala’s book, Craving: Why We Can’t Seem To Get Enough,  focuses on a specific aspect common to all addiction syndromes, and looks at what people might do to lessen its grip.

Why do cravings matter? Because they are the engine of addiction, and can lead people to “throw away all the things that really matter to them in exchange for a short-term fix that is often over before it even starts.” When Dr. Manejwala asked a group of patients to explain what they were thinking when they relapsed, their answer was often the same: “I was so STUPID.” But the author had tested these people. “I knew their IQs.” And the best explanation these intelligent addicts could offer “was the one explanation that could not possibly be true.”

In my book, The Chemical Carousel, I quoted former National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA) director T.K. Li on the subject of craving: “We already have a perfect drug to make alcohol aversive—and that’s Antabuse. But people don’t take it. Why don’t they take it? Because they still crave. And so they stop taking it. You have to attack the other side, and hit the craving.” However, if you ask addicts about craving when they are high, or have ready access, they will often downplay its importance. It is drug access unexpectedly denied that sets up some of the fiercest cravings of all. Conversely, many addicts find that they crave less in a situation where they cannot possibly score drugs or alcohol—at a health retreat, or on vacation at a remote locale.

Why are cravings so hard to explain? One reason is that “people use the word to mean so many different things.” You don’t crave everything you want, as Manejwala points out. Cravings are not the same as wants, desires, urges, passions, or interests. They are “stickier.” The brain science behind craving starts with the downregulation of dopamine and other neurotransmitters. As the brain is artificially flooded with neurotransmitters triggered by drug use, the brain goes into conservation mode and cuts back on, say, the number of dopamine receptors in a given part of the brain. In the absence of the drug, the brain is suddenly “lopsided,” and time has to pass while neural plasticity copes with the new (old) state of affairs. In the interim, the unbalanced state of affairs is a prime ingredient in the experience of craving.

Cravings are “disturbingly intense” (Manejwala) and “incomprehensibly demoralizing” (AA). Alcohol researcher George Koob called craving a state of “spiraling distress.” Cravings are not necessarily about reward, but about anticipating relief. “The overwhelming biological process in addictive craving is really a complex set of desperate, survival-based drives to feel ‘normal,’” says Manejwala.

The late Alan Marlatt, a psychologist who studied cravings for years, proposed that apparently irrelevant decisions could trigger or prevent relapse, almost without the addict knowing it. Turning left at an intersection, toward the supermarket, or turning right, toward the liquor store, can feel arbitrary and dissociated from desire. We also know that environmental cues can trigger craving, such as the site of a crack house where an addict used to do his business. Manejwala points to research showing that “some relapses related to cues and context are mediated by a small subgroup of neurons in the medial prefrontal cortex,” and suggests that it may be possible in the future to target this area with drug therapy.

Manejwala is unabashedly pro-12 Step, and favors traditional group work as the standard therapy. For example, he points to a Cochrane analysis of 50 trials showing that group participation roughly doubles a smoker’s chance of quitting. One of the reasons AA works for some people is that AA attendance reduces “pro-drinking social ties.” Simply put, if you are sitting with your AA pals in a meeting, you’re not out with your drinking buddies at the tavern. The author admits, however that alternatives such as SMART recovery work for some people, and that “sadly, much energy has been wasted as members of these various organizations bicker with each other about which works best, and this leaves the newcomer perplexed…. Over 20 million American are in recovery from addiction to alcohol and drugs. I can tell you this much: they didn’t all do it the same way.”

And along the way, you can be sure that all of them became familiar with cravings. Manejwala offers several strategies for managing cravings, and I paraphrase a few of them here:

—Join something. Participate. Get out of your own head and become actively involved in some group, any group, doing something you are interested in.

—Hang around people who are good at recovery. Long-timers, with a solid base of sobriety. You will not only learn HOW to do it, but that it CAN be done.

—Write stuff down. This makes you pay attention to what you’re doing. Keep a cigarette log. Count calories. Know what you’re spending per month on alcohol. Educate yourself about your addiction.

—Tell someone. Tell somebody you trust, because if there is anything harder than dealing with cravings from drinking, smoking, or drugging, it’s doing it in secret.

—Be teachable. Watch out for confirmation bias. “When you think you have the answers, it’s hard to hear alternatives.”

—Empathy matters. The author notes that the Big Book insists that by gaining sobriety, “you will learn the full meaning of ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’” Altruism may have evolutionary, physiological, and psychological implications we haven’t worked out yet.