maps • volume xvi number 2 • Autumn 2006 |
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Editor‘s note: Just before this Bulletin went to print, National Institute of Mental Healthsponsored researchers published a study in the Archives of General Psychiatry finding that ketamine shows breakthrough potential as a treatment for major refractory depression. In this upcoming article, Dr. Hammerschlag describes a case study in which he utilized ketamine-assisted psychotherapy to help a patient work through difficult psychological material associated with advanced-stage cancer. MAPS will be exploring options for a ketamine/end-of-life pilot study, similar in design to three other studies in patients with anxiety associated with end-of-life issues: Dr. Peter Gasser’s MAPSsponsored study evaluating LSDassisted psychotherapy, Dr. John Halpern’s MAPS-initiated study evaluating MDMA-assisted psychotherapy, and Dr. Charles Grob’s Heffter-sponsored research investigating psilocybin-assisted psychotherapy. All this research may eventually lead to FDA approval of psychedelic psychotherapy in general for anxiety associated with end-of-life issues, with therapists and patients able to choose between different substances at different stages of the psychotherapeutic process. |
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Seeing in the Dying Light: A Ketamine Case Study
Carl A. Hammerschlag, M.D.
drh@thehealingdoc.com
Ketamine is a pre-anesthetic adjunct first manufactured in 1965. A Schedule III drug, ketamine has accepted medical uses and can be prescribed by physicians, dentists and veterinarians. It is a short-acting dissociative with some psychedelic-like characteristics. Ketamine poses minimal risk of cardiac and respiratory complications, although, unlike other psychedelics, it can lead to physical dependency if used regularly.
Ketamine induces a dissociative state that causes subjects to lose track of time and place, and to detach from awareness of external stimuli, including pain. Professionals in the treatment of alcoholism, anxiety disorders, and posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) have effectively used ketamine-assisted psychotherapy to treat patients. Before treating Steve, the patient described in this case report, I had never used ketamine-assisted therapy in my practice.
Steve was 64 years old when I first met him in October, 2004. Ten years earlier, he had been diagnosed with nonalcohol related cirrhosis. In early 2000 he was diagnosed with liver cancer, and two years later he learned that he had metastatic disease to the bone. At that point, his doctors told him that he had about 6-9 months to live. He had been treated by chemotherapy, surgery and radiation, but his cancer continued to progress. By the time I saw him, he was no longer eligible for a liver transplant.
However, Steve was unwilling to give up the idea that he could heal himself. He was searching for healing methods and not prsseparing for death. Steve believed that he had been a shaman in a previous life, and wanted to regress back in time to speak with his previous incarnation. Steve believed that, by accessing this ancient knowledge, he could learn to heal himself. To this end, he wanted to take peyote in a Native American healing ceremony, hoping that it would facilitate his vision.
Steve first contacted me at the recommendation of a friend, since I have experience in the sacramental use of peyote in Native American ceremonies. During this initial meeting I advised Steve to consider alternatives because peyote is irritating to the G.I. tract, and not dosespecific. Peyote use often causes vomiting, and if Steve vomited, he could bleed internally, which had already happened to him once. Steve and I talked and discussed alternatives that might be helpful, like hypnotherapy and past-life regression.
Steve and I had quite a bit in common and resonated with one another. We were both originally from New York City and had graduated from city high schools and colleges. Steve went on to law school, and became a distinguished attorney and later a federal judge. He had been married and divorced, with two grown children to whom he was close. Angry with doctors, he held them responsible for failing to diagnose sooner the extent of his metastatic disease. If they had found it earlier, he would have been eligible for a transplant. Despite his limited options, though, Steve was not ready to die.
Steve was rational, without evidence of thought disorder; moreover, he was an intelligent critical thinker with a quick wit. He described his spiritual life as ethnically Jewish, by which he meant he liked pastrami on rye and matzoh ball soup, but that he had no personal relationship with God, or any interest in developing one.
After our initial visit, Steve decided to explore hypnotherapy. During his second visit, he proved to be an easily inducible subject and was able to regress in time to Neanderthal days. At one point, Steve described seeing cavemen from afar, but felt reluctant to join them. I told him to open his hands, put them in front of himself, and approach them. He did so, and they made room around the fire. He sat down cross-legged in the circle but understood nothing they were saying. He did not speak to a shaman and was unable to go back any further in time.
When we talked about it later, he said he would love to go deeper into trance and asked if I could intensify the hypnotic experience. That’s when I told him about ketamine-assisted therapy, and explained that ketamine could be legally prescribed and had been used clinically in the treatment of posttraumatic stress disorders (PTSD) and chronic alcoholism. Used in controlled conditions, there is strong supporting evidence that it can be helpful in making healthful changes, since it activates a portion of the brain that makes it possible to move beyond ordinary conceptions of time and space. I told Steve that I had not yet used it in my clinical practice but was willing to try, if he wanted. I told him to review the literature and talk about it with his children. By the next visit, he had done his homework and had decided to try it.
Steve had experimented with psychedelics in the 1960s and wasn’t frightened at the prospect of working with them in a controlled setting. He only wanted to be sure that I would stay with him during the experience, and I told him that I wouldn’t leave him and would be totally involved. I wanted to speak to his children, so I met with his son, who happened to be a local physician, and he told me that both he and his sister were fine with whatever their father wanted to do. He added that it didn’t surprise him at all, and that he would provide the syringes and needles to cut his father’s expenses. |
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When I asked him
what the tears
were saying
he said,
“These are tears of joy, I have never felt so in tune with the whole universe…” |
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Ketamine session 1:
October 21, 2004
For the first session, Steve brought
along some crystals and stones from sacred
Mayan sites in the Yucatán. I told him to
place them wherever he wanted, and lit
the oil-lamp on my coffee table and some
fragrant sage. I explained to him that we
were preparing the space to receive the
healing energy that will flow once the
ketamine is administered.
Once these preparations were completed,
I gave him a small dose (25 mg.)
intramuscularly, to test his tolerance.
Within three minutes, he described a
warm tingling in his ears, which then
spread to his face and lips. He appeared
very comfortable and then described a
sense of overwhelming peace and wellbeing. “It’s like an endless orgasm,” he
exclaimed.
During guided visualization, Stevc
returned to the same Neanderthal cave.
This time, when he approached the group,
they recognized him and made room for
him around the fire. He could not understand
a word. Looking around he saw that
the cave walls were covered with beautiful
artwork. He saw handprints on the wall
and got up to touch them. Watching him,
a Neanderthal came over and put his hand
on the wall and showed Steve how to
make his hand print by spitting a chalky
liquid over his hand. Steve put his hand on
the cave wall and did the same. When he
removed his hand he said, “Only this piece
of me stays here.”
Later, when I asked Steve what he
meant, he said he’d left the handprint
behind, but he was “flying out of here ...
people leave their mark in the cave but
their spirit moves beyond those walls.” He
marveled that primitive man had time to
spend on art and not just survival issues.
Then, he commented that although they
were gone, and the animals they drew
were gone, their spiritual power was still
here for all to see and feel. He thought he
had spent far too much time exploring the
rational world, and far too little exploring
this peaceful spiritual world. Steve noted
with a smile that his natural tendency was
always toward skepticism.
When we talked about it later, I was
interested in whether his cave vision and
flying away might have something to do
with the direction in which he felt himself
moving. I was hoping that he might see
comfort in something other than his
frantic pursuit of a cure. He said, “I know you want me to talk about my soul with
God, but that’s not me. I’m just happy that
I am moving in a direction that feels so
peaceful.”
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Ketamine session 2:
November 18, 2004
I injected 50 mg. and within 3 minutes
Steve felt the same enveloping
warmth and peace. He described himself
floating in the cosmos– “I feel light, I am
light, there is a light inside me, I feel like
I’m floating with the angels.” He began
humming and I joined him. He moved his
hands over his body, asking his shamanic
self to make itself visible so that he could
heal himself. Then I followed his hands
over his body, and together we spread this
divine light all over. I pressed my fingers
deep into the right upper quadrant of his
abdomen to direct the energy into his
liver. The intensity of the experience and
the energy coursing through his body
made my fingertips tingle.
After this session, Steve began going
regularly to his health club and said he felt
stronger. |
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I think
the ketamine-assisted
therapy
allowed Steve
to hang on to
the idea that
he could be healed,
and, indeed,
I believe he was.
But there is
a difference
between healing
and curing,
and you can
be healed
even if
you're not
cured. |
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Ketamine session 3:
December 14, 2004
Using 75 mg., Steve again entered a
state of peaceful bliss, and he described
sensing a harmonic chorus of celestial
angels. Following Steve’s wishes, I tried to
guide him to a place where he could
communicate with his shamanic soul.
Enveloped in a sense of heavenly peace, I
noticed tears rolling down his cheek.
When I asked him what the tears were
saying he said, “These are tears of joy, I
have never felt so in tune with the whole
universe. If this is God, I believe, but I
don’t want to talk to him.”
By January, 2005, Steve was feeling
stronger but his tumor markers were
rising and his alphaphetoprotein (AFP )
level was astronomically high. That month
he learned of an ssexperimental program at
the University of Pittsburgh where
researchers were injecting drugs directly
into the liver. Desperate for a cure, he flew
to Pittsburgh and they accepted him into
the program on the condition that he
discontinue his ketamine therapy. Steve
wanted to participate in this research
program, even though he knew it would
cause weakness and nausea. I told him that
I would support his choice, and that he could take a break from ketamine-assisted
therapy. Steve felt strong enough at this
point to take a vacation with his girlfriend
before beginning the new treatment.
.
From April through October, Steve
returned to Pittsburgh monthly. On his
last visit, though, the research doctors told
him that they must stop the treatment
because his tumor markers were continuing
to worsen. He returned to Phoenix
feeling quite depressed, seeing only
darkness. He hoped that another ketamine-
assisted therapy session would help
him find some light and peace. Ketamine session 4:
October 18, 2005 For this session, I raised the dose to
100 mg. Like last time, when Steve heard
the “cosmic chorus”, I hummed along with
him. It happened to be the Jewish holiday
of Yom Kippur and, unconsciously, my
hum became a tune from that day’s liturgy.
Steve recognized the melody and hummed
along with me. The Torah portion for that
day was the story of Abraham’s sacrifice of
Isaac. While we were humming Steve had
a vision of Abraham, dressed in flowing
white garb. When he got closer, though,
he saw that the flowing robe was actually
a doctor’s white coat. In front of Dr.
Abraham was an altar on which Steve saw
himself stretched out and bound. He saw
Dr. Abraham with the dagger in his raised
hand, and, just as he was ready to plunge
it, God called out to Abraham and he
stopped. Steve looked up at the knife, and
it had been replaced by a beam of light.
Steve felt the presence of an overwhelming
sense of peace. When we talked about the experience
later, he said, “The knife is less scary,” and
then asked, “Do you think the light is my
shaman talking to me?” Over the next two months, Steve was
hospitalized twice after fainting, leaving
him with several bad bruises. He told me
that he knew his health would continue to
worsen but that he wanted to “bathe in
the light one more time.” I found myself
wondering if he had finally come to peace
with the imminence of his death. |
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Through the use
of ketamine,
Steve realized that
the shaman he sought
was not in
the lost continent
of Atlantis,
but within. |
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Ketamine session 5:
December 13, 2005
At Steve’s request, I gave him 125 mg
of ketamine. Like before, he felt immensely
peaceful, heard celestial angels singing, and soon we were humming
together. I asked him if he could see the
light at the end of the tunnel and he said,
“There is no tunnel, there is only light. I
am surrounded by light, I feel love and
peace.” He wondered if this was the
healing conversation he had been looking
for with his shamanic self.
After this session, Steve continued to
grow weaker and soon he was unable to
get up without feeling wobbly and dizzy.
referred Steve to hospice, an option he had
previously resisted. I explained that the
hospice community is a place where one
surrounded by caretakers of light, and
shortly after this discussion he moved into
hospice treatment.
The week before Steve died, he told
me this story. “I thanked my hospice nurse
when she left the other day. I told her
what a great job she was doing. She
thanked me and said no matter how much
money she was making (ha, ha, ha), that
she loved this work and that to be with me
inspired her to live her life with joy. There
were tears in her eyes when she spoke to
me and I had tears in mine.” Then Steve
said, “It’s all about flying into the light and
seeing your imprint on the cave wall.” He
thanked me for helping him see that light,
and I told him I felt pretty much as his
hospice nurse did, appreciative for having
been with him on this journey.
Steve died on March 14, 2006, 10
years after his original diagnosis and five
times longer than any of the doctors had
estimated. At his funeral service his son
said, “We all called my father the Energizer
Bunny. His attitude inspires me.”
Steve believed that if he could communicate
with his ancient shamanic self,
he might learn how to heal himself. The
shaman he sought turned out to be a tribal
ancestral messenger who turned the
dagger of impending death into a beam of
light. Through the use of ketamine, Steve
realized that the shaman he sought was
not in the lost continent of Atlantis, but
within. When granted the opportunity to
suspend ourselves from ordinary consciousness,
we can make connections that
may have previously eluded us. Steve was
able to go to a place beyond our everyday
conceptions of time and space, allowing
him to make peace with himself and the
cosmos.
I think the ketamine-assisted therapy
allowed Steve to hang on to the idea that
he could be healed, and, indeed, I believe
he was. But there is a difference between
healing and curing, and you can be healed
even if you’re not cured. Healing is about
making connections to something other
than yourself, something that reminds you
that you’re not alone on the journey. At
the end of life, the connection to others
who love us is priceless. Those connections
are imprinted in the hearts of others
and on the cave walls of the mind that
endure, even once we are separated from
our physical bodies. |
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Dr. Hammerschlag is an internationally
recognized psychiatrist, who for 16 years was
Chief of Psychiatry, at the Phoenix Indian
Medical Center. He is a faculty member at the
Univ. of Arizona Medical School, speaker,
author and healer. His journey from doctor
to healer has been chronicled in three critically
acclaimed books, The Dancing Healers
(Harper-Collins, 1988), The Theft of the
Spirit (Simon & Schuster, 1993), and
Healing Ceremonies (Putnam/Perigee,
1998). He can be reached at www.healingdoc.com.
Bibliography
Jansen, K. Ketamine: Dreams and Realities. MAPS, Sarasota, 2001
Krupitsky, E. “Ketamine Psychedelic Therapy: A Review of the
Results of Ten Years of Research,” Journal of Psychoative Drugs,
29 (2):165-183, 1997.
Jansen, K., and Darracot-Cankovic, R. “The Non-Medical use of
Ketamine,” J. of Psychoactive Drugs, 33 (2): 151-158, 2001 |
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