Disir
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- Sep 30, 2011
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On a recent Friday morning, a gray-haired woman whom I will call Sally arrived for an appointment with Karl Deisseroth, a psychiatrist and a neuroscientist in the bioengineering department at Stanford University. Sally, now in her sixties, had suffered since childhood from major depression, and had tried the standard treatments: counselling, medication, even electroconvulsive therapy. Nothing helped. She had spent much of her adult life in bed, and had twice attempted suicide. Seven years ago, she was referred to Deisseroth, who uses a combination of unusual medications and brain stimulation to treat autism and severe depression. He accepts only patients for whom all other treatments have failed.
On Deisseroth’s advice, a surgeon implanted beneath Sally’s left collarbone a small, battery-powered device that regularly sends bursts of electricity into the vagus nerve, which carries the signal into a deep-brain structure that doctors think regulates mood. Originally developed for epilepsy, vagus-nerve stimulation (VNS) has been approved by the Food and Drug Administration for use in the kind of treatment-resistant depression from which Sally suffers, but the exact reason for its effectiveness is not understood. Sally says that VNS has transformed her life, and that, apart from one period of “going pancake,” she has experienced just a few “dips.”
She seemed to be in one of those dips when she took a seat facing Deisseroth. “There’s just so much going on,” she said. She had recently suffered a blackout, which her physician thought might be related to a drop in blood pressure, and she had decided, reluctantly, to stop driving until she understood why it had happened. Walking was hard, too; she was scheduled to have knee surgery soon, but it frightened her.
“Well, that’s a lot to think about,” Deisseroth said. He spoke quietly but with a positive lilt, countering the downward tug of Sally’s mood. “Not super-low blood pressure,” he said, scanning her chart. “So that’s actually not as concerning as I thought.” Of her decision to suspend driving, he said, “That is smart while it’s being figured out.” He added, “You’re still socializing, I see—which is very important.”
She was not mollified. “Mood’s been down,” she said. “Just spiralling down.” She mentioned insomnia, bad dreams, low appetite.
“No suicidal thoughts?” he asked.
“Mmm, no,” she said. With sudden urgency, she asked to have the VNS current increased: “Can we please go up to 1.5?” She had been receiving 1.2 milliamps every five minutes for thirty seconds, but was no longer able to feel the effects.
“You’re tolerating the device very well,” Deisseroth said, after some discussion. “I think we can go up a little.”
He handed her a programming wand, which looked a little like a Wii remote. She placed the broad, flat end against her left collarbone, over the implant. Deisseroth took from his desk what appeared to be a smartphone—a controller for the wand—and thumbed the screen as if tapping out a text. The wand emitted a trilling tone. “I can feel it,” she said.
“But you’re not coughing,” he said. “That’s good.”
Problems with the throat are not the only side effects of VNS.
The Optogenetics Breakthrough - The New Yorker
This is cool. And kinda creepy. I guess you have to fail with everything else though.
On Deisseroth’s advice, a surgeon implanted beneath Sally’s left collarbone a small, battery-powered device that regularly sends bursts of electricity into the vagus nerve, which carries the signal into a deep-brain structure that doctors think regulates mood. Originally developed for epilepsy, vagus-nerve stimulation (VNS) has been approved by the Food and Drug Administration for use in the kind of treatment-resistant depression from which Sally suffers, but the exact reason for its effectiveness is not understood. Sally says that VNS has transformed her life, and that, apart from one period of “going pancake,” she has experienced just a few “dips.”
She seemed to be in one of those dips when she took a seat facing Deisseroth. “There’s just so much going on,” she said. She had recently suffered a blackout, which her physician thought might be related to a drop in blood pressure, and she had decided, reluctantly, to stop driving until she understood why it had happened. Walking was hard, too; she was scheduled to have knee surgery soon, but it frightened her.
“Well, that’s a lot to think about,” Deisseroth said. He spoke quietly but with a positive lilt, countering the downward tug of Sally’s mood. “Not super-low blood pressure,” he said, scanning her chart. “So that’s actually not as concerning as I thought.” Of her decision to suspend driving, he said, “That is smart while it’s being figured out.” He added, “You’re still socializing, I see—which is very important.”
She was not mollified. “Mood’s been down,” she said. “Just spiralling down.” She mentioned insomnia, bad dreams, low appetite.
“No suicidal thoughts?” he asked.
“Mmm, no,” she said. With sudden urgency, she asked to have the VNS current increased: “Can we please go up to 1.5?” She had been receiving 1.2 milliamps every five minutes for thirty seconds, but was no longer able to feel the effects.
“You’re tolerating the device very well,” Deisseroth said, after some discussion. “I think we can go up a little.”
He handed her a programming wand, which looked a little like a Wii remote. She placed the broad, flat end against her left collarbone, over the implant. Deisseroth took from his desk what appeared to be a smartphone—a controller for the wand—and thumbed the screen as if tapping out a text. The wand emitted a trilling tone. “I can feel it,” she said.
“But you’re not coughing,” he said. “That’s good.”
Problems with the throat are not the only side effects of VNS.
The Optogenetics Breakthrough - The New Yorker
This is cool. And kinda creepy. I guess you have to fail with everything else though.