Pain and Anxiety in VR
The previous week has come with a fair dose of emotional lash-outs and random acts of ill-will. Much of the public discourse has progressed beyond the stage of fury and finger-pointing to that of bitter-sweet reflections in the face of societal demise. Where questions abound, both individual and shared values are shuffled, dropped and reasserted. As some see the rare opportunity for lasting change, others recognize we’ve reached the World’s End in the cruel hands of British Leprosy Squirrels.
Don’t despair since there are clear but drastic steps one can take to avoid this Squirrel Leprosy. #1) Avoid squirrels #2) Avoid parks #3) Avoid the UK. It should be immediately clear that this inaccess to recreational facilities will lead to a psychological byproduct, stress, for which parks themselves were intended to allay. Suddenly, we’ve been overcome with a negative feedback loop digging us ever deeper into a well of anxiety so much that we’d rather rush into the parks (aka Squirrel Central Command) than face another moment in persistent, dark pondering. And to that, we have VR, an answer to our present woes, but one tempered with a warning.
In medical treatments that produce a severe and immediate pain, VR has now been used as a distraction from it (see here and here). The trial happened specifically with varicose vein treatments, but there seems little reason patients can’t use it when recovering from surgery — perhaps in place of opioids, which has had much media attention lately due to their formerly understated risks. Patients may even take the initiative of bringing their mobile VR with them for in-patient visits (rather than have the hospital commission one and charge about 10x the price). VR’s multisensory nature gives users a temporary respite from the gruesome business of physical maintenance likely superior to that of a water lily painting fixed to the ceiling and/or a Moonlight Sonata chiming from an overhead speaker. With the advent of haptics and even transcranial stimulation, we could extend the illusion that the world is a kind and beautiful place more completely. Just, don’t do ABE VR before or after surgery — that’s for healthy times.
Enthusiasts of VR as well as enthusiasts of money coming from VR are quick to tout the potential application of the technology for all manner of medical ailment and, for certain types of problems, they’re correct. It will function well for some problems in perception as stated in a previous post. It’s claimed that VR can also help Parkinson’s patients on multiple fronts (see here and here). Pain management through the technology is roughly equivalent to the curative power of pretending; you are consciously exploring a non-material reality while divesting yourself of sensory-level attention. And obviously it works.
When you’re in physical agony, going to a happy place visuo-audially and, thereby, mentally can be a real lifesaver. The technology is also being tested as an immersion therapy intended to reduce the effect of phobias and trauma (see here). However, I’d like to warn against further proposed psychiatric applications of VR, such as clinical depression or (e-gawds!) schizophrenia. There’s sufficient evidence backing the claim that escapism of any kind, be it chemical or media based, has a long-term adverse effect, which will sabotage your efforts to cope with the issue that prompted escape to begin with (see here, here or here). It’s here we might draw the line between VR enthusiasts (like me) and the blind optimists of VR who would discredit the technology through false promises.
That said, I believe we can make an exception for social VR since it’s not experienced in isolation. One is in an environment they like surrounded by people they presumably want to be around. Your voice and perspective is shared with those ready to give them same to you.
This week follows a consequential American presidential election and, after the squirrels, it’s certainly been the highest source of concern for many people. Once the election was over and the firework dust settled on Democracy Plaza in AltspaceVR, they held a talk session, where people could openly discuss their feelings on the event, helping them process their shock and disappointment. Unfortunately, I was (for unrelated reasons) crying over a plate of cookies and an empty beer glass, so I couldn’t attend. But given the high quality of person I’ve met in Altspace, I’m sure it was a great help. My private hope is to more people opening up, voicing their concerns, in these public but largely anonymous virtual forums, especially in response to real or perceived tragedy.
