Supporting People Living with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Published: 06 May 2020
Published: 06 May 2020
Sitting in my local with some friends last year, a story on the evening news got our attention.
A well-known local police officer, a ‘man’s man’ and all-round nice bloke, was facing charges for high-range drink-driving. His lawyer’s defence?
‘My client is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of his work, and his maladaptive coping mechanism was to drink alcohol to escape the pain and distress he has been experiencing.’
The hotel quickly erupted with cynical abuse and criticism:
‘It’s just a weak excuse.’
‘Tell him to toughen up and take responsibility for his own behaviour.’
‘He knew what he was getting himself into when he became a copper.’
The reality is, however, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a very real phenomenon. It’s not a new ‘fad’ or a ‘cosmetic diagnosis’, it wasn’t invented by pharmaceutical companies to push the increased use of medication, or by barristers as an excuse to get people off serious charges in court.
Although you may have only heard of PTSD a relatively short time ago, it’s a phenomenon that we’ve been aware of and investigating since the late nineteenth century. Soldiers surviving the American Civil War who presented with cardiac symptoms but had a healthy heart were diagnosed with DaCosta’s syndrome (Oglesby 1987).
Other diagnoses post-war included neurological explanations such as ‘shell-shock’ and ‘war neurosis’ (Crocq & Crocq 2000). In civilian populations, one term that was coined was ‘railway spine’ to describe survivors of train accidents who were incapacitated despite not being physically injured (Bynum 2001).
Later descriptions of this phenomenon included rape trauma syndrome, survivor syndrome and post-Vietnam syndrome (Figley 1985).
By the late 1970s, we were ready to formalise these diagnoses under one name rather than names specific to an event, and post-traumatic stress disorder became an established diagnosis.
In 1980, in the American Psychiatric Association’s 3rd Edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, the stressor criterion was defined by the exposure to ‘a recognisable stressor that would evoke significant symptoms of distress in almost anyone’ (American Psychiatric Association 1980).
According to the National Survey of Mental Health and Wellbeing, anxiety disorders are the biggest mental health condition in this country, with 14.4% of us meeting the diagnostic criteria for having an anxiety disorder, of which PTSD is one. Of that 14.4%, almost half is made up of people meeting the diagnostic criteria for having a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (Australian Bureau of Statistics 2008).
In real terms, this means that as a healthcare worker, you are more likely to be looking after a client with PTSD (6.4%) than you are someone with depression (6.2%) or with a substance use disorder (5.1%).
And the reality is, it’s not uncommon for a person with PTSD to also be living with depression, a substance use disorder, or both (Kitchener, Jorm & Kelly 2010).
PTSD is complex. Anyone can develop it. It’s beyond their control and has nothing to do with their strength (or lack) of character, determination or inherent capabilities. The Australian Centre for Post-Traumatic Mental Health describes it as:
‘A set of reactions that can develop in people who have experienced or witnessed an event which threatened their life or safety, or that of others around them, and led to feelings of intense fear, hopelessness or horror.’
(Australian Centre for Posttraumatic Mental Health 2011)
The person with PTSD may find themselves reliving the event when they don’t want to, being wound-up or highly strung and avoiding any reminders of the event. These symptoms can be significantly disabling for the person.
The first line of treatment for PTSD is not medication. Medication can be used as an adjunct therapy to help manage some of the symptoms, but essentially what we want to use are psychological therapies, and these take time. The cornerstone of treatment requires confronting the traumatic memory with a qualified clinician (ACPMH 2011).
Healthcare professionals often find themselves in a dual role, managing the physical condition of their client or patient (usually their primary role: e.g. an MVA survivor in an orthopaedic ward) as well as the mental and emotional health of the person, and this may well involve PTSD symptoms. So what can you do to support and assist this client?
There are three key areas where the healthcare professional can help a client living with PTSD:
You may not be involved in the long-term treatment of the person with post-traumatic stress disorder, but these simple interventions that you can offer will have a significant, positive impact on them.
And the old adage of ‘knowledge is power’ is crucial here. The more we research post-traumatic stress disorder, the better our understanding will become, as well as the interventions we can offer, which will ultimately improve the life of the person and those around them.
Geoffrey Ahern is a senior mental health clinician and educator who splits his time between working with people in a mental health crisis in the ED setting and working proactively to educate other health professionals and the community about how to better understand mental health problems, as well as substance use and addiction. Over the years, he has gained extensive experience in emergency and trauma, rural nursing, alcohol and other drug counselling, and psychiatric nursing across both the public and private sectors. He holds a masters of health science (mental health and addiction). Geoff is particularly fascinated by the impact that exercise, nutrition, community, meaning and purpose, and practices like yoga have on a person’s mental health, as well as living a simple life of reflection, contentment and wonderment. See Educator Profile