Liaison Psychiatry

1979 ◽  
Vol 134 (5) ◽  
pp. 532-534 ◽  
Author(s):  
Z. J. Lipowski

In 1929, George W. Henry published a paper on ‘Some Modern Aspects of Psychiatry in General Hospital Practice’ and thus became the founder of what later came to be known as liaison psychiatry. He described his work as a psychiatric consultant at Cornell Medical School and advised that ‘On the staff of every general hospital there should be a psychiatrist who would make regular visits to the wards, who would direct a psychiatric out-patient clinic, who would continue the instruction and organize the psychiatric work of interns and who would attend staff conferences so that there might be a mutual exchange of medical experience and a frank discussion of the more complicated cases'. This quotation spells out the essence of psychiatric liaison with medicine. The work of Henry and a few other pioneers bore fruit: psychiatry was at last brought into general hospitals and the mainstream of twentieth century medicine. This was a development of far-reaching consequence for both clinical disciplines, and a major landmark in the history of modern psychiatry.

Author(s):  
Jeanne Kisacky

Until the 1880s, hospitals excluded contagious disease patients from admission because of the danger they posed to other patients; by the 1950s, contagious disease care had literally moved into the general hospital. This article correlates the changing isolation facility designs with changing disease incidence and prevention strategies. It argues that isolation moved into the hospital in stages that have consequence for isolation facility design today. Between the 1890s and 1940s, contagious disease care shifted from remote isolation hospitals (commonly known as pest houses) to separate contagious disease hospitals, to contagious disease “units” adjacent to or within a general hospital facility, and to isolation rooms included in nursing units. The architectural history of isolation facility designs shows that the integration of isolation facilities into general hospitals relied on the success of new aseptic nursing procedures that prevented contact transmission but which downgraded the need for spatial separation to prevent airborne transmission. In the second half of the 20th century, federal funding and standards made isolation rooms in the hospital the norm. This migration coincided with a historically unprecedented reduction in contagious disease incidence produced by successful vaccines and antibiotics. By the 1980s, the rise of new and antibiotic resistant diseases led to extensive redesigns of the in-house isolation rooms to make them more effective. This article suggests that it is time to rethink isolation not just at the detail level but in terms of its location in relation to the general hospital.


1986 ◽  
Vol 10 (11) ◽  
pp. 312-314
Author(s):  
R. M. Fraser ◽  
Rosemary Healy

Liaison psychiatry has been an influential element in hospital psychiatric practice for over a decade now. It is concerned with the ‘diagnosis, treatment, study, and prevention of psychiatric disorders among patients in non-psychiatric health care institutions, especially in general hospitals’. This paper describes and evaluates a project in which the principles of liaison psychiatry were incorporated into a psychogeriatric service.


1988 ◽  
Vol 33 (4) ◽  
pp. 294-298 ◽  
Author(s):  
Cheryl J. Rowe ◽  
Ronald F. Billings ◽  
E. Ralph Pohlman ◽  
Ivan L. Silver

As Consultation-Liaison Services continue to develop and expand in general hospitals, psychiatrists must be aware of pitfalls and pratfalls inherent in dealing with medical colleagues and other allied health professionals, as well as with the patients. Practical considerations in answering consultation requests are discussed with respect to “hidden agendas” of the consultee, role and expectations of the psychiatrist, and problem referrals. It is only through mutual respect and collaboration that Consultation-Liaison Services can truly be effective.


2018 ◽  
Vol 13 (4) ◽  
pp. 496-517
Author(s):  
Ned Hercock

This essay examines the objects in George Oppen's Discrete Series (1934). It considers their primary property to be their hardness – many of them have distinctively uniform and impenetrable surfaces. This hardness and uniformity is contrasted with 19th century organicism (Gerard Manley Hopkins and John Ruskin). Taking my cue from Kirsten Blythe Painter I show how in their work with hard objects these poems participate within a wider cultural and philosophical turn towards hardness in the early twentieth century (Marcel Duchamp, Adolf Loos, Ludwig Wittgenstein and others). I describe the thinking these poems do with regard to industrialization and to human experience of a resolutely object world – I argue that the presentation of these objects bears witness to the production history of the type of objects which in this era are becoming preponderant in parts of the world. Finally, I suggest that the objects’ impenetrability offers a kind of anti-aesthetic relief: perception without conception. If ‘philosophy recognizes the Concept in everything’ it is still possible, these poems show, to experience resistance to this imperious process of conceptualization. Within thinking objects (poems) these are objects which do not think.


1999 ◽  
Vol 22 (1) ◽  
pp. 126-128
Author(s):  
Catherine S. Ramirez

Throughout the twentieth century (and now the twenty-first), the specter of a Latina/o past, present, and future has haunted the myth of Los Angeles as a sunny, bucolic paradise. At the same time it has loomed behind narratives of the city as a dystopic, urban nightmare. In the 1940s Carey McWilliams pointed to the fabrication of a “Spanish fantasy heritage” that made Los Angeles the bygone home of fair señoritas, genteel caballeros and benevolent mission padres. Meanwhile, the dominant Angeleno press invented a “zoot” (read Mexican-American) crime wave. Unlike the aristocratic, European Californias/os of lore, the Mexican/American “gangsters” of the 1940s were described as racial mongrels. What's more, the newspapers explicitly identified them as the sons and daughters of immigrants-thus eliding any link they may have had to the Californias/os of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries or to the history of Los Angeles in general.


2020 ◽  
Vol 44 (2) ◽  
pp. 100-118
Author(s):  
Kristin M. Franseen

Beginning with the “open secret” of Benjamin Britten and Peter Pears's relationship and continuing through debates over Handel's and Schubert's sexuality and analyses of Ethel Smyth's memoirs, biography has played a central role in the development of queer musicology. At the same time, life-writing's focus on extramusical details and engagement with difficult-to-substantiate anecdotes and rumors often seem suspect to scholars. In the case of early-twentieth-century music research, however, these very gaps and ambiguities paradoxically offered some authors and readers at the time rare spaces for approaching questions of sexuality in music. Issues of subjectivity in instrumental music aligned well with rumors about autobiographical confession within Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6 (Pathétique) for those who knew how to listen and read between the lines. This article considers the different ways in which the framing of biographical anecdotes and gossip in scholarship by music critic-turned-amateur sexologist Edward Prime-Stevenson and Tchaikovsky scholar Rosa Newmarch allowed for queer readings of symphonic music. It evaluates Prime-Stevenson's discussions of musical biography and interpretation in The Intersexes (1908/9) and Newmarch's Tchaikovsky: His Life and Works (1900), translation of Modest Tchaikovsky's biography, and article on the composer in Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians to explore how they addressed potentially taboo topics, engaged with formal and informal sources of biographical knowledge (including one another's work), and found their scholarly voices in the absence of academic frameworks for addressing gender and sexuality. While their overt goals were quite different—Newmarch sought to dismiss “sensationalist” rumors about Tchaikovsky's death for a broad readership, while Prime-Stevenson used queer musical gossip as a primary source in his self-published history of homosexuality—both grappled with questions of what can and cannot be read into a composer's life and works and how to relate to possible queer meanings in symphonic music. The very aspects of biography that place it in a precarious position as scholarship ultimately reveal a great deal about the history of musicology and those who write it.


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