Talking With a Loved One Who Has Aphasia: Family Training That Reduces Frustration

It is 7:40 on a Tuesday morning and Ray is pointing at the counter. His wife hands him the coffee. He shakes his head. She tries the sugar, then the newspaper, then his glasses. He says “the, the, the thing,” slaps the table, and walks out of the kitchen. He wanted the car keys. The whole exchange took ninety seconds and left both of them close to tears.

Scenes like this play out in thousands of homes after a stroke, and families are rarely warned how much of the strain lands on the listener. Communicating with someone with aphasia is a skill, not a matter of patience or love, and it can be taught. Speech-language pathologists have a name for that teaching: communication partner training.

This article explains what aphasia actually disrupts, what the training involves, which habits make the biggest difference, and where the evidence is solid or still thin.

What aphasia is, and what it is not

Aphasia is a language disorder caused by damage to the parts of the brain that handle words. It can affect speaking, understanding speech, reading and writing, in any combination and to any degree. The National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders (NIDCD) estimates that about one million people in the United States are living with aphasia and that nearly 180,000 acquire it each year, most often after a stroke.

Here is the sentence families need to hear first, and usually more than once: aphasia does not affect intelligence. The person still knows who you are, still has opinions about the news, still remembers the argument from last week. What has changed is the machinery that turns thoughts into words and words back into thoughts. Think of a well-stocked library whose card catalogue has been scrambled. The books are all there. Finding them, and reading them out loud, has become hard.

It also helps to know what aphasia is not. It is not a hearing problem, so shouting does nothing except add stress. It is not dementia, although the two can coexist, and the distinction matters because dementia affects memory and reasoning while aphasia targets language specifically. It is not dysarthria, which is slurred speech from weak or uncoordinated muscles, and it is not apraxia of speech, which is trouble planning the movements for speech even when the words are chosen correctly. A person can have several of these at once after a stroke, which is one reason a proper assessment by a speech-language pathologist, a clinician who diagnoses and treats communication and swallowing disorders, is the starting point.

Once families understand that the mind is intact, the tone of every conversation changes. You stop talking to a patient and go back to talking with a person.

How aphasia works: what is actually happening in the brain

In most right-handed people, and many left-handed people, language lives mainly in the left hemisphere of the brain. Two regions do a great deal of the work. An area toward the front, often called Broca’s area, helps assemble words into fluent, grammatical speech. An area toward the back and side, often called Wernicke’s area, helps decode the meaning of what is heard and read. Thick bundles of nerve fibers connect them, and the whole network draws on memory, attention and hearing.

A stroke happens when blood flow to part of the brain is cut off, either by a clot or a bleed. Brain tissue starved of oxygen begins to die within minutes. If the affected region sits inside the language network, aphasia follows. Head injury, brain tumors, infections and some progressive neurological diseases can damage the same areas, which is why aphasia is described by MedlinePlus and the NHS as a symptom of brain injury rather than a disease in itself.

Where the damage lands shapes the pattern. Damage toward the front tends to produce nonfluent aphasia: speech is effortful and telegraphic, small connecting words drop out, but understanding is relatively preserved. Damage toward the back tends to produce fluent aphasia: sentences flow easily but may be filled with wrong words or invented ones, and comprehension is often impaired, sometimes without the person realizing it. Extensive damage can produce global aphasia, in which both speaking and understanding are severely limited. The mildest and most common lingering form is anomic aphasia, where the main problem is retrieving specific words.

A separate condition, primary progressive aphasia, is a form of dementia in which language declines gradually over years rather than suddenly after an injury. The Mayo Clinic notes that it calls for a different long-term plan, although many of the same conversation strategies still help.

Can you give me an example of aphasia in everyday conversation?

Descriptions of brain regions only go so far. Families understand aphasia much faster when they hear what it sounds like at the dinner table.

A person with nonfluent aphasia asked about their weekend might say, “Saturday… grandson… park… ball… good.” Every word is correct and the meaning is clear, but the grammar that would normally knit them into “On Saturday my grandson and I went to the park and played ball, it was good” is missing. Speech comes out slowly and with visible effort.

A person with fluent aphasia asked the same question might answer at normal speed: “Oh yes, we went down to the flanter with the little one and he was throwing the thing all over, it was a lovely tree.” The rhythm is normal, the tone is cheerful, and some words are invented or swapped. The listener catches the gist but cannot be sure of the details, and the speaker may not notice anything is wrong.

A person with anomic aphasia might say, “We went to the… you know, the place with the swings… with my daughter’s boy.” This is the pattern most people recognize from tip-of-the-tongue moments, except that it happens constantly and with ordinary words like fork, bed or Tuesday.

Understanding problems are quieter and easier to miss. Someone may nod along to “Do you want your blue sweater or the gray one?” and then look confused when handed either, because a two-part question delivered at normal speed overloaded the system. Reading can be affected too: a person may hold the newspaper for twenty minutes and take in very little. These are the moments where the right response from a family member, rather than a repeated question, quietly decides whether the day goes well.

Why communicating with someone with aphasia becomes frustrating on both sides

Frustration in aphasia is not a character flaw. It is a predictable product of a mismatch between what the person knows and what they can convey, and it has physiological consequences. Stress narrows attention and consumes working memory, the same limited resources that damaged language pathways already depend on. So the harder a person tries to force out a word, the less capacity they have left to find it. Families see this every day: the word that would not come at breakfast arrives unbidden an hour later while doing the dishes.

The listener has an equal and opposite problem. When someone struggles, our instinct is to help by guessing, finishing sentences, speaking louder or asking rapid-fire questions. Each of these feels kind and each makes things worse. Guessing repeatedly turns a conversation into a quiz the person keeps failing. Finishing sentences removes the small victory of getting there. Raising your voice signals alarm. Stacking questions overloads comprehension.

There is a third layer that gets less attention: grief and role change. A spouse who used to be the quiet one is suddenly running every conversation, every phone call, every medical appointment. Adult children find themselves speaking for a parent who once spoke for them. The Cleveland Clinic and NHS both note that depression and social withdrawal are common after aphasia, in the person and often in the family too. Isolation follows quickly, because friends who do not know what to say stop calling.

Naming these mechanisms is the first step of communication partner training. Once a family understands that the frustration is coming from a solvable mismatch, not from stubbornness or lack of effort on either side, the emotional temperature drops and there is room to learn something new.

Which action would enhance communication in a patient with aphasia?

This question appears on nursing exams and in search bars for the same reason: people want the single most useful thing to do. If there is one, it is this: give the person a way to show what they know. Everything else follows from that principle.

Speech-language pathologists often describe the goal as two linked jobs. The first is acknowledging competence, which means behaving in every way as though you are talking to an intelligent adult, because you are. Use a normal tone. Talk to the person, not about them to whoever is standing nearby. Say plainly, “I know you know what you want to say, and this is hard.” The second job is revealing competence, which means changing the environment and your own behavior so that the person’s understanding and ideas can get through despite the language barrier.

Revealing competence has three parts. Help them understand you: shorter sentences, one idea at a time, key words written in large print as you say them, gestures that match the words. Help them respond: offer yes-or-no questions when open questions stall, put a pen and paper in reach, accept pointing, drawing, thumbs up or a photo on a phone as legitimate answers. Then verify: repeat back what you think you understood and let them confirm or correct it before moving on.

That last step is the one families most often skip and the one that prevents the worst misunderstandings. The NIDCD and NHS both list variations of these steps in their guidance for families, and they form the backbone of most structured training programs. None of it requires special equipment. It requires slowing down, and deciding that the message matters more than the speed.

What family communication partner training actually involves

Communication partner training is structured teaching for the people who talk with a person who has aphasia most often: spouses, adult children, close friends, sometimes paid caregivers. It is usually delivered by a speech-language pathologist, either one-to-one, in small family sessions or in groups, and it typically runs alongside the person’s own therapy rather than replacing it.

A first session often starts with education, because most families arrive with the wrong mental model. The clinician explains what type of aphasia the person has, which channels are strongest (understanding, speaking, reading, writing, gesture) and which are weakest. Families are often surprised to learn, for example, that their relative reads single words far better than they follow spoken sentences, or that writing the first letter of a word unlocks it.

The middle of training is practical and slightly uncomfortable. The clinician demonstrates strategies, then has the family member try them in a real conversation with their relative while the clinician watches. Video review is common: seeing yourself interrupt three times in one minute is more persuasive than being told. Feedback is specific. Wait longer before repeating. Write that word down. You asked two questions at once.

Later sessions tailor the toolkit. A family might build a communication book of photos, names and common needs; agree on a household signal for “give me a minute”; or rehearse how to handle a phone call from the pharmacy. Some programs also address the emotional side, giving families language for frustration that does not blame anyone.

What does the evidence show? Systematic reviews indexed in PubMed, including Cochrane work on speech and language therapy after stroke, indicate that therapy improves functional communication and that trained partners become more effective at supporting conversation. The strength of that evidence varies by outcome, and studies differ in what they measure. It is fair to say the approach is recommended and helpful; it is not fair to promise how much any one family will gain.

Who family aphasia training is usually for, and who is asked to wait

Most people with aphasia benefit when the people around them learn to communicate differently, so in principle the training suits nearly every family. In practice, clinicians look at a few things before scheduling it.

The people who tend to be referred early are close relatives of someone with a new stroke-related aphasia who is medically stable and moving into rehabilitation; families of someone with chronic aphasia who are stuck in the same daily frustrations months or years later; and carers of someone with primary progressive aphasia, where the aim shifts from recovery toward keeping connection as language declines. Adult children who live at a distance can join by video in many services, and some clinicians deliberately include grandchildren, because children often adapt fastest.

Some situations lead a team to delay rather than decline. In the first days after a stroke the person may be drowsy, medically unwell or experiencing delirium, a temporary state of confusion caused by acute illness, and any assessment of language would be unreliable. Uncorrected hearing loss or missing glasses are addressed first, since no conversation strategy compensates for a message that never arrives. Severe untreated depression, in the person or the family member, can make training feel like one more failure and may need attention alongside it. And a family in crisis, exhausted and sleeping badly, may be offered rest and practical support before a learning program.

None of these are exclusions. They are sequencing decisions, and the treating team makes them with the family. If you feel ready and have not been offered training, ask the rehabilitation team or speech-language pathologist directly whether it is available and when it would fit best. Being an active partner in that conversation is itself part of the skill.

How to talk to someone who can't speak: the speaking side of the conversation

Start with the room. Turn off the television, close the door, sit at eye level and face the light so your mouth is easy to see. The NIDCD lists reducing background noise first in its advice to families for good reason: a damaged language system has almost no spare capacity for filtering.

Then slow down without dumbing down. Aim for short, complete adult sentences with one idea each. “Your sister is coming at three. Do you want lunch before she arrives?” works far better than a single run-on sentence containing both facts and the question. Pause between ideas. Silence that feels awkward to you is processing time for them; many clinicians suggest counting slowly to ten in your head before repeating anything.

If you do need to repeat, first try saying exactly the same words again. If that fails, rephrase with simpler vocabulary rather than adding more words. Support speech with other channels as you go: write the key word in large letters, point to the object, use a natural gesture, show a photo. Many people with aphasia who cannot follow a spoken question will grasp it instantly when the one crucial word is on paper in front of them.

Choose your question shape deliberately. Open questions (“What do you want to do today?”) demand the most from the language system. Offering two options (“Garden or shops?”) narrows it. Yes-or-no questions narrow it further and can be answered with a nod, a thumb or a written Y and N on the table. Move down that ladder when a conversation stalls, and back up it when things are going well, because people should be given the chance to say more than yes and no.

Finally, verify. “So you want the blue one. Yes?” That single sentence catches most misunderstandings before they cause an argument.

Helping them get the message out without words

The other half of every conversation belongs to the person with aphasia, and the goal is to give them as many exits from the language bottleneck as possible. Clinicians call this total communication: using whatever channel works in the moment, without ranking speech above the rest.

Paper and a thick pen should live on the kitchen table, next to the bed and in a coat pocket. Some people who cannot say a word can write its first letter, and that letter is often enough for you to supply the rest. Others can draw a rough shape, a clock face, a map of the street. Drawing is not childish; it is data. A phone’s photo library is a communication device when the person can scroll to the picture of the grandchild, the restaurant or the medication bottle they mean.

Gesture and facial expression carry more than most families realize. Encourage pointing, miming, thumbs up and down, and a hand raised to mean “wait, I have not finished.” Numbers written in a row let someone indicate pain on a scale, a time of day or how many people are coming.

Keep a simple communication book or a single laminated sheet with photos and words for the things that come up daily: family names, food, comfort, television, outside, toilet, medication, pain, tired. Speech-language pathologists can help design one, and some people go on to use tablet apps that speak a selected word aloud; these are tools chosen with the therapy team based on the person’s reading and motor skills, not something to buy on a hunch.

When a message still will not come through, name it honestly and give permission to leave it. “I am not getting this yet. Can we come back to it after lunch?” That protects dignity on both sides, and the word often arrives later on its own.

Aphasia communication strategies at a glance

Families ask for a list they can put on the refrigerator. The table below pairs each common instinct with the habit that works better and the reason, so the reasoning sticks even when the list is out of sight.

Instinct	Better habit	Why it helps
Speak louder	Speak at normal volume, slightly slower	Aphasia is not hearing loss; volume adds stress without adding clarity
Finish their sentences	Wait, count to ten, then offer help	Completing the word yourself is a small win that builds confidence
Ask open questions	Offer two options, or yes/no when stuck	Narrower questions reduce the load on word retrieval
Repeat with more words	Repeat exactly, then simplify	Extra words add processing demand rather than clarity
Talk over the TV	Switch off background noise, face each other	Filtering noise consumes the same resources language needs
Speak only	Write key words, gesture, point, show photos	Reading single words and gesture are often less affected than speech
Assume you understood	Repeat back and ask for confirmation	Catches errors before they become arguments
Talk about them to others	Address them directly, include them in decisions	Signals intact competence; reduces withdrawal
Correct every mistake	Respond to the meaning, ignore minor errors	Conversation is the goal; constant correction shuts it down

Two notes on using it. First, the right-hand column is a starting point, not a script; the speech-language pathologist will tell you which channels your relative finds strongest and the list should bend toward those. Second, not every strategy suits every moment. A quick yes-or-no exchange is right for “tea or coffee” and wrong for a conversation about whether to sell the house. Deeper decisions deserve time, paper, and sometimes a clinician in the room.

What the first days and weeks usually look like

Aphasia after a stroke changes fastest early on. During the first days the priority is medical: keeping the brain supplied with blood, preventing a second stroke, checking swallowing before the person eats or drinks. Language may fluctuate dramatically from hour to hour as swelling settles and the brain adjusts. A person who could say almost nothing on Monday may produce short phrases by Friday, or the reverse. Families should treat these swings as expected rather than as verdicts.

Assessment by a speech-language pathologist usually happens within this window in hospital, first to check swallowing safety and then to map language strengths and weaknesses. Early therapy tends to be brief and frequent, and families are often taught the first few partner strategies at the bedside, sometimes informally.

The NIDCD notes that much of the spontaneous improvement after stroke happens in the first few months, and that many people continue to improve over years with therapy and practice, more slowly. The NHS makes a similar point: most people show some recovery, and the pattern varies widely with the size and location of the damage, age, general health and how much practice a person gets. No clinician can put a number on an individual’s recovery, and anyone who does is guessing.

Weeks two through twelve are typically when rehabilitation is most intensive, whether in an inpatient unit, an outpatient clinic or at home, and this is where formal communication partner training usually fits best. The person is medically stable, awake and motivated, and the family is beginning to see what daily life will look like. Fatigue is heavy in this phase; short conversations several times a day outperform one long one.

Beyond three months the pace slows but does not stop. Group therapy, conversation groups and structured home practice become the engine, and the family’s communication habits, now well practiced, quietly do a great deal of the work.

What is mild aphasia, and why it is easy to underestimate

Mild aphasia describes a pattern in which a person can hold an ordinary conversation but language costs more effort than it should. The most common form is anomic aphasia: sentences are grammatical and understanding is largely intact, but specific words, especially names and nouns, keep slipping away. People describe it as constant tip-of-the-tongue. They talk around the missing word (“the thing you cut with”) or substitute a close relative (“spoon” for “fork”) and usually catch the error themselves.

Because these people sound fine to a stranger, mild aphasia is regularly dismissed by everyone except the person living with it. The cost shows up in places casual conversation does not reach: following a fast group discussion, reading a long email, filling in a form, arguing a point at work, making a phone call to an unfamiliar organization. Fatigue makes it worse, and so does noise. Many people with mild aphasia stop going to restaurants and parties not because they cannot talk but because the effort of tracking several speakers at once is exhausting and embarrassing.

Family strategies for mild aphasia look different from those for severe aphasia. Constant simplification is patronizing and unnecessary; what helps is protecting the conditions under which the person does well. Turn down the noise. Give a topic a moment to change before jumping in. Write down appointments and phone numbers rather than saying them once. Let the person set the pace of a phone call, or offer to sit beside them rather than take it over. Agree on a discreet signal for “I have lost the word, give me a second” that does not require an explanation to the whole table.

Mild does not mean untreatable, and it does not mean unimportant. Speech and language therapy is still offered for mild aphasia, often focused on word-finding strategies and on the specific situations, such as work, that matter most to the individual.

What people often get wrong about talking to someone with aphasia

“They cannot understand, so it does not matter what I say in front of them.” Understanding is often far better than speaking, and even people with severe comprehension problems read tone, faces and body language accurately. Assume everything is heard. Nothing damages trust faster than a person hearing themselves discussed as though they were absent.

“Talk to them like a child so they can follow.” Short sentences, yes. Baby talk, sing-song voice and exaggerated praise, no. The person is an adult with an adult’s history, and being treated otherwise is one of the most commonly reported humiliations in aphasia support groups.

“Pushing them to say it properly is good practice.” Repeated demands to say a word again in the middle of a real conversation turn every exchange into a test. Practice belongs in therapy sessions and agreed practice time. Conversation is for connection, and accepting a gesture or a written word keeps it going.

“They swear now, so their personality has changed.” Automatic speech, including swearing, counting and song lyrics, is often preserved when deliberate speech is lost, because it is stored differently in the brain. A person who never swore may now do so involuntarily, and it distresses them as much as anyone.

“If they have not recovered by now, nothing more will change.” The fastest change is early, but improvement with therapy and practice is documented well beyond the first year. Progress slows; it does not necessarily stop.

“A word-finding app or brain game will fix it.” Some software is a useful practice tool when a speech-language pathologist recommends it for a specific person. No app has been shown to replace therapy or a trained conversation partner, and marketing claims for such products should be read skeptically.

“It is a memory problem.” Aphasia and memory loss can coexist, especially after a large stroke or in progressive conditions, but they are different. A person with pure aphasia remembers the event perfectly; they cannot retrieve the words to tell you about it.

Questions to ask your care team

Families often leave appointments having answered the clinician’s questions without asking their own. Take this list, or your version of it, to the speech-language pathologist, the rehabilitation team or the neurologist, and write the answers down.

• What type of aphasia does my relative have, and which channels are strongest right now: understanding, speaking, reading, writing or gesture?
• Is there anything else going on alongside the aphasia, such as apraxia of speech, dysarthria, a visual field loss or memory problems, that changes how I should communicate?
• Is communication partner training available for our family, who delivers it, and when in the recovery would you suggest starting?
• Which two or three strategies should we focus on first at home, and which common habits should we drop?
• Can you help us build a communication book or sheet, and is a speech-generating app appropriate for them at this stage?
• How much home practice is reasonable, and how do we keep practice separate from ordinary conversation so meals do not turn into tests?
• What signs would tell you that mood or motivation is a problem, and who should we contact if we see them?
• Are there aphasia conversation groups, in person or online, that you would suggest for both of us?
• What is the plan for therapy over the coming months, and how will we know when to change it?
• If their language suddenly worsens, what exactly should we do and whom should we call?

One practical note: ask whether the person with aphasia can be present for these conversations with the answers written out in key words as you go. People are routinely excluded from decisions about their own care because it is quicker to talk to the spouse. Including them takes longer and is worth every minute, and clinicians who work in aphasia expect it.

When to call your doctor

Most of the day-to-day difficulty of aphasia is managed at home and in therapy, but some changes are medical emergencies or need prompt review.

Call emergency services immediately if language suddenly gets worse, if new confusion appears, or if you see any new signs of stroke: drooping on one side of the face, weakness or numbness in an arm or leg, sudden trouble speaking or understanding, sudden loss of vision, a severe sudden headache or loss of balance. The American Heart Association’s F.A.S.T. reminder (Face, Arms, Speech, Time) applies just as much to someone who already has aphasia; a change from their usual baseline is what matters. Stroke treatments are time-critical, so note the time you last saw them well.

Also seek urgent care for a seizure, which can follow stroke or brain injury; for coughing or choking while eating or drinking, a wet or gurgly voice after swallowing, or chest infections, which can signal unsafe swallowing; and for a fall with a head strike, since some people are taking blood thinners.

Contact the doctor or rehabilitation team soon, rather than waiting for the next appointment, if the person is withdrawing from family, sleeping much more or less, losing interest in food or in things they used to enjoy, or expressing hopelessness in words, gestures or drawings. Depression is common after stroke and aphasia, is treatable, and is easy to miss when someone cannot describe how they feel. The same applies to the family member: caregiver exhaustion and low mood are reasons to ask for help, not signs of failure.

Finally, ring the team if you have a practical question about medicines, therapy schedules or equipment. Never adjust a prescribed medicine yourself, including stopping one because it seems to make speech worse; describe what you are seeing and let the prescribing clinician decide.

Frequently asked questions

Which action would enhance communication in a patient with aphasia?

Giving the person a way to show what they understand and want to say. In practice that means short adult sentences, key words written as you speak, yes-or-no or two-choice questions when open ones stall, pen and paper always in reach, extra waiting time, and repeating back what you understood so they can confirm or correct it.

What is mild aphasia?

Mild aphasia means a person can hold everyday conversations but language takes more effort than it should, most often because specific words keep slipping away. Understanding and grammar are largely intact. It becomes obvious in noisy groups, long reading, forms and phone calls, and it responds to therapy focused on word-finding strategies and the situations that matter most to the person.

How do you talk to someone who can't speak at all?

Talk to them normally, in short sentences, and build the conversation around channels other than speech. Ask yes-or-no questions they can answer with a nod, thumb or written Y and N; offer photos, objects or a communication sheet to point at; watch facial expression closely; and confirm every message. Understanding is usually far better than speaking, so assume they follow what you say.

Can you give me an example of aphasia?

A person with nonfluent aphasia asked about the weekend might say “Saturday… grandson… park… ball,” with the right words but no grammar. Someone with fluent aphasia might answer smoothly but include invented or wrong words, such as “we went to the flanter with the little one.” Someone with anomic aphasia talks around missing words: “the place with the swings.”

What is communication partner training for aphasia?

It is structured coaching, usually by a speech-language pathologist, that teaches family members and friends how to support conversation with a person who has aphasia. Sessions combine education about the person’s specific strengths, live practice with feedback, often using video, and building tools such as a communication book. It runs alongside the person’s own therapy rather than replacing it.

Does talking to someone with aphasia like a child help them understand?

No. Short, clear sentences help; a childish tone, exaggerated praise or sing-song voice do not, and people with aphasia consistently describe being spoken to that way as humiliating. Their intelligence and adult history are intact. Use a normal voice at normal volume, slow slightly, keep to one idea per sentence, and support speech with writing and gesture.

Should I correct their mistakes or finish their sentences?

Generally, respond to the meaning and let minor errors pass, and wait before finishing a sentence. Count slowly to ten, then offer help if they want it. Correction and drills belong in therapy or agreed practice time; in everyday conversation they turn every exchange into a test. Ask the speech-language pathologist how they prefer you to handle errors at home.

How long does aphasia last after a stroke?

It varies widely and no clinician can predict an individual outcome. The NIDCD notes that much spontaneous improvement happens in the first few months, and that many people keep improving more slowly over years with therapy and practice. The size and location of the brain damage, general health and how much communication practice a person gets all influence the course.

Can people with aphasia still read, write or use a phone?

Often partly, and the pattern differs from person to person. Some read single words far better than they follow speech, which is why writing key words helps. Others write a first letter when the full word will not come. Phones can be communication tools through photos, text and, when a therapist recommends them, apps that speak selected words aloud.

Is aphasia the same as dementia?

No. Aphasia is a language problem, usually from a sudden brain injury such as stroke, and memory and reasoning are typically preserved. Dementia affects memory, thinking and daily functioning progressively. The two can coexist, and one form of dementia, primary progressive aphasia, begins with gradual language loss. A neurologist and speech-language pathologist can tell them apart through assessment.

References

• Aphasia (NIDCD, National Institutes of Health)
• Aphasia (MedlinePlus)
• Aphasia (NHS)
• Aphasia (Cleveland Clinic)

This article is for general information only and is not a substitute for professional medical advice. Please consult a qualified doctor about your individual situation.