To start with terminology relevant for this report, “Deaf” (with a capital D) describes a person who communicates via sign language and is immersed in Deaf culture, whereas “deaf” (with a lowercase d) refers to the diagnostic state of hearing loss and often implies that a person is primarily integrated with the hearing community (
1). Of note, American Sign Language (ASL) is often transcribed in all capital letters inside square brackets (
2), which does not indicate that a person is “yelling” (or using exaggerated signs) as such usage implies in English. Further, the ASL syntax does not directly translate into written or oral English, so transcribed ASL signs will often not appear in typical English sentence structure (see
Box 1 for an example).
In this report, the case of a Deaf male patient with paranoia who sought care in our emergency department (ED) is explored, including considerations of his disability, signed language, and cultural background, which were paramount in arriving at the ultimate diagnosis. Important nuances to consider in the psychiatric assessment of Deaf and hard-of-hearing (DHH) patients are also highlighted.
Case Presentation
Mr. C, a 36-year-old Deaf man, sought care in the ED for paranoia. He had been urged by his case worker to speak to a physician about his thought patterns; although he did not understand how such a consultation might help him, he came to our ED at her behest. A psychiatry consultant, along with an ASL interpreter connected via videoconferencing, evaluated him. The interpreter struggled to understand Mr. C and recused themself in favor of another interpreter, who also faced difficulties in understanding the patient. The patient was fearful and avoidant of others and hence was offered voluntary admission to the psychiatry unit, which he accepted.
He had grown up in the Horn of Africa as the only Deaf child in his community. The etiology and onset of his hearing loss were unknown. His hearing parents learned signs from passing missionaries, and they formed their own “home sign,” a language system created by a Deaf person used within his or her family (
3). Mr. C, one of only two survivors in his extended family, fled his home region amidst a war and lived in various countries before finding refuge in our city. Along the way, he adopted terms from various world sign languages, with ASL making up the bulk of his current vocabulary. As such, he developed his own pidgin sign language system (
4). How then were hearing, English-speaking, American providers to evaluate and treat this patient?
During morning rounds, we learned through an in-person interpreter about his fear and mistrust of coworkers and roommates, along with stories of people yelling at him. The language barrier made it challenging to assess his mental status, raising questions about his thought processes and the accuracy of interpretation of his signed language. Results from a standard laboratory workup, including blood counts, metabolic profile, urinalysis, drug screen, vitamin levels, and CT scans, were unrevealing. Later that afternoon, we conducted an extensive psychiatric review with the in-person interpreter present, being flexible with communication to overcome language barriers.
The interpreter was careful and patient, often paraphrasing and rephrasing, signing [AGAIN?] with her eyebrows furrowed (to communicate confusion). We routinely checked for comprehension by having the patient confirm his understanding of our inquiries. The content of his thoughts, if taken out of context would have yielded a broad differential diagnosis of delusional or schizophrenia spectrum disorder, generalized or social anxiety disorder, or some poorly understood cultural idiom of distress. The resident and the interpreter attempted several times to clarify a phrase the patient repeated [I TOUCH THEM, I’M DEPORTED]. Ultimately, the team reached an understanding best illustrated by the English idiom “I’m rubbing people the wrong way.” Settling on this interpretation, we understood his fear that others may be put off by him, likely through misunderstandings due to language and cultural barriers, and unduly inform his superiors at work or contact law enforcement.
Given how much was uncharacterized regarding the patient’s history, we felt the best DSM-5 diagnostic descriptor was unspecified anxiety disorder (
5). He experienced apprehensive expectations about many events, found it difficult to control worry, and endorsed somatic concerns of restlessness, sleep disturbance, and muscle tension. We could not rule out social phobia or posttraumatic sequelae as contributors. These symptoms caused him significant distress and impairment in social and occupational areas of functioning.
Mr. C was curious about his psychopathology, including the underlying origin of his fearful thoughts and how medication would help. We discussed these questions with him, again regularly checking for comprehension, and ultimately started him on sertraline 50 mg daily. He was very appreciative of this final discussion and was discharged home with the newfound knowledge that what was going on in his mind had an explanation and that there was hope for relief.