Do you trade your hallucinations for a zombie existence? Swap panic attacks for addiction? It’s like choosing between a burning building and a shark tank. Medicine isn’t just a “take two and call me in the morning” deal. It’s a negotiation.
So, is the treatment worse than the disease? Sometimes, absolutely. Other times, it’s the only lifeline we’ve got. The lesson? Medicine isn’t magic—it’s messy, flawed, and human. Just like us.
This platform serves as a reflective assignment for BIOL21312 'Drugs and the Brain'.
It aims to address the thought-provoking statement: 'Sometimes, the treatment is worse than the disease.'
Through analysis and discussion, we will explore this topic, incorporating insights from relevant films and examining named drug examples from the unit.
Insightful Articles
Film Analyses
Drug Examples Discussed
The administration of pharmacological treatments for mental health disorders often entails a precarious balance between therapeutic benefits and adverse consequences. First-generation antipsychotics, such as chlorpromazine and haloperidol, exemplify this duality. Whilst effective in mitigating hallucinations and delusions in schizophrenia, these drugs frequently induce tardive dyskinesia (TD)—a debilitating neurological side effect characterised by involuntary facial and body movements. For many patients, TD becomes a lifelong burden, overshadowing the relief from psychosis. Similarly, benzodiazepines (e.g., diazepam) offer rapid alleviation of anxiety but risk fostering dependency, with withdrawal symptoms—rebound anxiety, seizures—often exceeding the original condition’s severity. Even modern interventions like SSRIs (e.g., fluoxetine), though transformative for depression, carry paradoxical risks: emotional numbing and heightened suicidal ideation in adolescents. These examples underscore a recurring theme: pharmacological interventions, whilst lifesaving, can impose physical and psychological tolls that challenge the axiom of “first, do no harm.”
From a neuropharmacological standpoint, these treatments’ risks stem from their broad mechanistic actions. First-generation antipsychotics antagonise dopamine D2 receptors, dampening psychosis but disrupting nigrostriatal pathways, which precipitates TD. Benzodiazepines enhance GABAergic inhibition, calming hyperactive neural circuits, but chronic use downregulates GABA receptors, necessitating dose escalation and perpetuating dependency. SSRIs, which modulate serotonin reuptake, may inadvertently blunt emotional responsiveness by over-saturating 5-HT receptors, particularly in developing adolescent brains. Such neurochemical trade-offs reveal a fundamental challenge: psychotropic drugs rarely target isolated pathways. Their systemic effects—whilst silencing symptoms—can destabilise the delicate neurobiological equilibrium underpinning cognition, emotion, and identity.
Cinematic narratives poignantly illustrate these pharmacological and neuropharmacological dilemmas. In A Beautiful Mind (2001), John Nash’s struggle with chlorpromazine mirrors real-world critiques: the drug quells his hallucinations but erodes his intellectual brilliance and emotional bonds, reducing him to a “medicated shell.” The film’s depiction of insulin shock therapy—a historical treatment never administered to the real Nash—serves as a metaphor for medicine’s capacity to dehumanise in pursuit of stability. Similarly, the documentary The Lobotomist (2008) exposes the grotesque legacy of transorbital lobotomies, which traded psychosis for vegetative passivity. Both films critique interventions that prioritise symptom suppression over holistic well-being, framing treatment as a double-edged sword that can sever patients from their essential selves.
These cinematic narratives parallel real-world ethical quandaries. Historical treatments like lobotomies and insulin shock therapy, now deemed barbaric, remind us that medical “progress” is often a trial of errors. Modern pharmacology, whilst refined, still grapples with analogues of these dilemmas: antipsychotics that sacrifice autonomy for stability, or benzodiazepines that substitute anxiety for dependency. Such trade-offs demand a patient-centric approach, prioritising informed consent and personalised risk-benefit analyses. Moreover, societal stigma—which once justified lobotomies—still influences treatment paradigms, pressuring patients to endure debilitating side effects to conform to normative ideals of “functionality.” Moving forward, the challenge lies in advancing neuropharmacology whilst honouring the Hippocratic imperative: to heal without erasing the personhood of those we seek to heal.
Telephone: 0800-legal_drugs_only-123
E-mail: tatenda.chavangu@student.manchester.ac.uk
: nicole.ruepp@student.manchester.ac.uk
: yicheng.wei-2@student.manchester.ac.uk
Address: The University of Manchester
©Copyright. All rights reserved. Special shout-out to Dr. R.Prince
We need your consent to load the translations
We use a third-party service to translate the website content that may collect data about your activity. Please review the details in the privacy policy and accept the service to view the translations.