The Trauma-Pain Connection Explored at For Grace’s Women In Pain Conference

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

Four years ago, I was wheeled into my pain management doctor’s office, not to talk about Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, but rather my newest and most dire diagnosis: Triple Negative Breast Cancer (TNBC). I knew I didn’t have a good chance at survival, but didn’t know why I had the most rare and aggressive form of the disease.

I asked Dr. Richeimer why this cancer would appear now, as my oncologist and genetic counselor were baffled. Without pause, he answered, “Cynthia, you’ve been trying to fix your dysfunctional family your entire life. The toll that’s taken on your body is why you have TNBC.”     

Thus began my trauma-informed journey.

I was already aware and intrigued that many researchers were identifying trauma as the main driver for chronic pain. Despite this, I passed on having trauma release treatment because I’d heard it could be triggering. But now that I was fighting for my very existence, I was all in.

In the midst of full-dose chemotherapy, no less, I took to reading and researching everything I could get my hands on about childhood trauma and how it leads to adult on-set chronic illness. On the trauma release front, I jumped into talk therapy and EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), complimenting those treatments with big doses of music, writing, meditation, inner child work and ancestral healing.

I also started focusing my “For Grace” work on the trauma-pain connection. This included interviewing a boatload of experts and survivors as well as collecting and spotlighting lived experiences, all culminating in Friday’s 11th Annual Women In Pain Conference – “The Trauma-Pain Connection: A Path to Recovery and Growth.”

Radene Marie Cook

You see, I now understand that my 40+ years of pain and chronic illness are the result of serious and sustained trauma, suffered primarily during my early development. In short, trauma is not a piece of my chronic pain puzzle. It’s the whole puzzle.

I want to share all that I’ve learned with women in pain, during a day that I hope will launch your own trauma-informed journey, one that I promise will bring you healing and growth.

To start you on your way, our five-hour online seminar, beginning at 10am PT on November 17, will be broken into three sessions led by world-class speakers, panelists and breakout leaders, all who have survived trauma and volunteered their time.

• Session One will examine what trauma is, how it can be passed down generationally, and how it’s a driver for chronic pain.

• Session Two will highlight trauma release and the myriad of effective techniques, methods and strategies used to achieve that end, both practitioner-led and solo.

• Session Three will celebrate what I call the silver-lining of trauma, Post-Traumatic Growth, a process that paves the way for recovery, deeper meaning, new-found strength, and helping others.            

Themed throughout the conference will be the beauty, struggle and resilience of the Native American people. Because I’ve read time and again that this community suffers greatly from generational trauma, the day will be infused with stunning music and photography, compliments of one of our main speakers, Dr. Noshene Ranjbar, a leader of indigenous studies at the University of Arizona. It touched my heart that two of her students put in hours to gift us these sacred elements.

Perhaps the most poignant part of our event will be the extraordinary gift of intensely personal video vignettes sprinkled in from people who’ve traveled the dimly-lit trauma-pain tunnel, found healing through release, and moved on to the light of growth. The courage of these generous souls is a triumph of the spirit.      

This conference was For Grace’s heaviest lift to date. Coming from a chronic pain background, I didn’t know anyone in trauma and it took several years to build a critical mass of relationships. Also, because this conference is the first of its kind, our planning committee had to build it from whole cloth. Perhaps most difficult and most satisfying, was getting people to talk publicly about their deepest, darkest experiences. I know the challenge well because when I recorded my story, I was brought to tears more than once.

It was worth the sweat and tears because we struck gold.

This is the most important topic For Grace has covered. I’m certain that if you do the work, it will be a catalyst for healing and renewed wholeness. Remembering, facing and addressing our past traumas is our best hope to overcome the scourge of chronic pain.

Don’t wait to get a deadly disease to learn, to explore, to discover trauma’s place in your life. You’re braver than you think - and when you use that courage, you’ll be on the path to finding the last piece to your pain puzzle.

You can watch the conference for free at this link.

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 19 co-morbidities for four decades, and has been battling cancer since 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

Breathless: My Anger at a Failing Body

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

Once upon a time, life was easy. Breathing was a breeze, lungs filled with promise and hope.

Then I got sick. Really sick. Of late, when I look back at the last forty years, I’m uncharacteristically angry that my Complex Regional Pain Syndrome stole my life, taking that breath away.

I’m spitting mad that my body keeps failing me. It’s seemingly giving me the finger for having a positive attitude and taking care of myself, as all I get is sicker and sicker. I’m tired of being the good sport, forever the one with “super human strength” who flashes a smile no matter what.

I hate 2022, as it’s trending to be my most miserable year yet. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. To start, I had a monster of a virus all of January, most of March, and my symptoms are here again in mid-April. I can’t shake this ever-revolving bug that perplexes my doctors.

They can’t figure out my debilitating fatigue, laryngitis and diarrhea, all complimented by vertigo and, yes, difficulty breathing. Even my once heavenly swims have turned into an exercise of wheezing and gasping.

I recently got a work-up including labs and chest x-ray, but everything came out normal. A friend mentioned her concern that I might have symptoms of an impending heart attack. Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised.

I’m also mad as hell because COVID never ends. At least not for me. When we were all in this together, the isolation was do-able. In fact, it was comforting because, for once, I wasn’t the only one alone.

But now I’m left behind because being immuno-compromised with an assembly of autoimmune conditions puts me at high risk for long COVID. I feel lonelier than ever watching the world reconnect, while hearing of new variants and upcoming surges.

To top it off, my vaccines and booster shots were hell. With each dose, I’m left reeling with intense fibro flares, hives and many of my previous chemotherapy side-effects. Oh, did I mention I fought Triple Negative Breast Cancer in 2020, the WORST thing I’ve ever been through?

Breathe, Cynthia. Breathe.      

And then there’s this. During the rare times I escape the condo, N95 dutifully strapped on, I resent the never-ending pity looks and pointing because I use a wheelchair. Folks, it’s been FOUR DECADES of this transportation humiliation. I feel like I’m going to lose it the next time someone looks beyond me to ask my partner John what my name is. Or gives me the classic, “It’s so good that people like you get out.”

I find myself staring in awe at people who can walk without a thought. They’re free and don’t even know it. I must admit, these days I resent them for it. When I’m outside, seems it’s always just me and some little old man who are in this wheeled imprisonment. I even resent the old man, cuz he got his turn at life.

This post wouldn’t be complete without exhaling a potentially catastrophic cliff-hanger. Yeah, I’m talking about the aforementioned “Big C.” Since remission, I live in constant fear that it will recur much more aggressively in the first two years, what Triple-Negative is masterful at!

A few days ago, I went in for my periodic breast exam, a ritual that keeps me from hyperventilating during my MRIs. The exams have always been clear, which helps me get through the maelstrom of “scanxiety.”

I felt oddly confident this go-around, even enjoying small talk with my oncologist. After all, this was the lead up to my two-year MRI. I was almost home free when the energy in the room shifted. Completely. My doctor found an enlarged lymph node under my arm that he thinks is a recurrence. Or, better yet, a whole new cancer.

I’m suffocating.   

While I await my imaging results, I’m short-tempered and yell a lot. The cats run under the bed. Fearing the worst, I wonder if my body can fight aggressive cancer again. Let’s face it, I won’t have a good shot the second time around.

Also, in my darkest moments, I’m not certain I have a life worth fighting for. I love myself deeply, but am struggling these days to find gratitude in a world that feels devoid of grace.

I don’t get it. I swear, I’ve been a good person my whole life. I’ve played by the rules, worked hard and always helped the less fortunate.

People tell me to be positive, but I’m just angry. Maybe my rage will turn back to strength and unflagging perseverance. Maybe not. All I know is that I can’t catch my breath. 

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 19 co-morbidities for four decades, and became a cancer survivor in 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

Saving My Soul From a Real-Life Dopesick

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

While watching Dopesick, the Hulu series that dramatizes Purdue Pharma’s driving of the opioid crisis through their cash-cow OxyContin, I was traumatized to the point of hitting the pause button at least half a dozen times.

The filmmakers were so spot-on with their story telling, I anticipated and said names and organizations out loud before the actors did. You see, I was in the middle of this evil. And I was asked to be a part of the killings for money.

Watching Dopesick reminded me of those god-awful times. Recounting the untold number of people who got addicted to OxyContin and overdosed made me sick. Knowing Purdue and its accomplices nearly got away with it made me sick. How close I was to it all turned my stomach.

In 2003, about a year after I founded For Grace, I was deep in the planning of a California Senate hearing that would shed light on gender care bias toward women with high-impact pain. I loved every crazy-busy moment of this endeavor to give voice to women dismissed by the words, “It’s all in your head.” I was ecstatic to have three female state senators co-sponsoring my hearing that, to this day, remains the most requested event video in Capitol history.     

Out of the blue, Purdue Pharma’s Director of Community Outreach phoned. I’d never heard of Purdue before, but upon overhearing the call, my partner John handed me a note, telling me they were a pharmaceutical company that funded nonprofit pain organizations.

I was flattered that Brenda (not her real name) loved the work I was doing with the hearing, but more than a bit miffed when she recommended her own advocacy people be able to testify. As a start-up nonprofit, For Grace sure as hell needed underwriting, so I agreed to call and get to know her folk. What could it hurt?

I was pleasantly surprised when they were friendly and knowledgeable and, in the end, I chose to go with half my people and half Brenda’s that I and the senators’ staff vetted.

Things went sideways the morning of the hearing when Purdue and those who would testify met with us at the Capitol. After brief intros, Brenda asked for my written testimony and quickly edited it in red pen. I was infuriated by this unwelcomed intrusion.

Still fuming, I arrived late to my own senate hearing as I’d been yelling at John that they had no right to change my testimony just because they’d paid to fly some people in. Who the hell do these creeps think they are?                  

After the successful, standing room only hearing, I was beyond stoked and let the bad energy of the morning pass over dinner with legislators and staffers I adored.

Also in attendance were Purdue and their speakers. That night, at Purdue’s suggestion, we began laying the groundwork for a “Women In Pain” coalition. I was in heaven with the prospects of giving my movement a bigger platform.   

cynthia toussaint (right) testifying at 2004 hearing

Women In Pain (WIP for short) was For Grace’s exciting new project and the cause I wanted most to lead. Springing from a 2001 medical study entitled “The Girl Who Cried Pain” and a follow-up article in The New York Times on the neglect women face in getting their pain treated, I couldn’t wait for the world to learn about WIP. To have a coalition of nonprofit pain leaders and a deep funder behind our movement was a dream.

A dream that would slowly erode into the ugliest kind of nightmare.

When the coalition and Purdue began meeting, the first order of business was to establish an understanding that everyone would be working under For Grace’s umbrella, as we initiated the WIP concept and felt a deep ownership. In fact, we were strongly considering expanding our mission from CRPS awareness to the plight of all women in pain.

Though I’m known for my work ethic, I soon felt overwhelmed by my load. To keep up with For Grace’s everyday activities and the coalition’s needs, John and I were grinding through long hours, seven days a week.

Almost out of the gates, we were getting pushback from coalition members about seemingly everything. Jealousies erupted as I was getting the lion’s share of media attention due to my hustle and drive. Per their demands, I generated media coverage for all members, but that wasn’t enough. Some of them wanted me to script out their answers for interviews. I was beginning to feel beaten.  

‘The Correct Response’

One day I received a call from Purdue inviting me to give the keynote address for pain advocacy conferences they were underwriting in Denver and Philadelphia. The purpose of these events – or so I was told – was to train and inspire pain leaders to effectively interface with media and policy makers.

The person who’d be overlooking this affair was Dr. Richard Sackler, the grand dragon of the family-owned Purdue empire. At the event, Purdue minions were twisted like pretzels in their desire to please this unimpressive man, who struck me as distant and cold.

I was insulted when Purdue insisted that I take a media training class. In a taped, mock interview with their crisis management consultant, I was asked, “What treatment do you advise when a person gets a CRPS diagnosis?”

“Well, there’s a whole range of options out there, including alternative ones,” I answered, spreading my hands a yard wide. “Remember, what works for one person may not work for the next.”

Purdue’s consultant chided me. “As the up-and-coming pain star, you should rethink your answer. The correct response is to take OxyContin,” she said.

Stunned, I responded, “But that would kill people. There’s nothing to rethink.” I felt trapped in a queasy Twilight Zone episode, as not a soul in the crowded room of pain advocacy leaders and healthcare professionals backed me up.

That night, ensconced in our five-star hotel room, it dawned on John and me that everyone in this scheme was training to be a de facto sales force for OxyContin. We were the only schmucks not in on it, though Purdue was actively grooming me to be their #1 patient sales person.           

This bizarre, shady gathering left me with a rancid taste and my enthusiasm curbed for the coalition. But I forged on, at the behest of my advisors, to give Purdue a fair chance to find common ground, a notion I now laugh at.

Next, Purdue offered me an extraordinary opportunity to make WIP fly in an influential, national arena. I was invited to bring our project to “Women In Government”, a powerful organization comprised of female state legislators throughout the country. Thrilled, I introduced my cause at their western regional meeting in Honolulu, then prepared to close the deal at their annual conference in Tucson.

I must admit, I was enjoying Purdue’s lavish courtship – travel, the chauffeur-driven town cars, the choicest suites and the finest meals. After all, I’d earned these perks, I told myself. I was working damn hard and was extremely effective with my message. I knew I was good at what I was doing and it was gratifying to be recognized.

But Purdue continued their insidious attempts to control me. Before my speech, Brenda chided that I’d better knock it out of the park as they were spending a small mint. Further, I was not to go one nanosecond over my 20 minute speaking limit, or else! Hmmm, not the good luck pat on the back I’d hoped for.

Fuming, I made a beeline for the event coordinator, telling her of Brenda’s abuse. Her face turned beet red, angrily telling me that Purdue didn’t run their show. This kind woman reassured me to take a deep breath, then go out and do my thing. So I did.

During my standing ovation, the director came over and hugged me with eyes welling. Joy confided with the room her ongoing bout with chronic pain, along with her ringing endorsement of the WIP movement. Then I was circled by legislators, shaking my hand and thanking me. Most important, they said they’d do whatever I asked.

Later that day, Brenda showed me first-hand what my advocacy future would look like if I played nice with Purdue. During a special session, I watched a Broadway-level singer/actor/cancer survivor entertain the audience, giving them an update about her cause to promote a cervical vaccine. She was living my advocacy dream job – traveling the world, performing, making great money, all the while helping people. That afternoon, she captivated the room.

I had stars in my eyes. For the first time since losing my performance career at 21 due to CRPS, I was being offered a job that would completely feed me. And it was a more noble pursuit than entertaining, as I’d be helping, even saving, many people. But could I get Purdue to come around? They wouldn’t want my services solely to peddle OxyContin, right?

There’s much bigger fish to fry with our shared mission (or so I thought) to put chronic pain and gender care bias on the map. This was my great passion, and I was determined more than ever to thread that needle.

Purdue Wants More

But my naïve hope didn’t float for long. When we restarted our coalition meetings, the women were stone cold toward me, and I felt punished. Their jealousies were amping, and managing all the egos and expectations added to my overload.  I began feeling itchy that the coalition was grinding me to dust in an attempt to heist the project, leaving For Grace behind. The walls were closing in.

I called Brenda and voiced my concern. Oddly, she was warm and reassuring, voicing that, per our agreement, the project would never be taken away from For Grace. To the contrary, she said we were approaching a tipping point where the WIP movement would explode.

I was calm, for about a minute.

On the next call, the gates of hell broke open. The women were backing unethical suggestions from Purdue, including supplying a prominent link from our WIP website to Purdue’s OxyContin marketing page.

John went nuts, sternly stating that was a “slippery slope.” He exploded, “If we give them that link for their money, they’ll want more. And more!"

The women yelled him down, saying For Grace didn’t know how business worked. The back and forth warring finally ended when I pronounced, knowing full well Purdue was on the call, “I won’t be a whore for a pharmaceutical company.” The sounds of phones hanging up followed.

Soon after, I saw in a coalition member’s nonprofit newsletter that she and the others were launching a new organization. It was called “Women With Pain” and parroted our mission. Around that same time, I was abruptly dropped from planned media stories and speaking engagements. Clearly, Purdue’s tentacles ran far and wide. When I threatened to speak to the media about their dirty deeds, Purdue called with a bevy of their attorneys in tow, telling us thuggishly to put a cork in it.

I cried, I yelled, I screamed, I even begged God for mercy. What I’d given birth to had been heisted, and was going to be used to kill people. John and I got deeply ill with what I thought was an epic flu, but looking back, I see it was despair. I became despondent and we were convinced there was no path forward with the good work. Worse, I started thinking deeply about ending my life. I didn’t want to live in a world this soulless.

Saving My Soul

But the fire within hadn’t burned out, and after ample time to grieve, I was able to get out of bed. I was further lifted by For Grace board members who prodded me to not let the bad guys win. Ultimately, I saw that good things could be possible again.

While formally expanding our mission to Women In Pain, I used my persuasiveness to get the pro-bono services of a top-end intellectual property attorney. He sent every coalition member a cease-and-desist letter, advising them not to use the name and idea inspired by For Grace.

I was elated that the letter hit its mark. In fact, the rival organization’s name and announcement were taken down the very next day. Shortly after, I was informed the new coalition was dead on arrival and I knew I’d gotten Purdue, a multi-billion dollar corporation, to buckle.

That’s how I saved my soul from the Sackler family and their savage empire. And I’ve never looked back. Until now.

Those terrible years of trauma surged back while watching the evil dramatized in Dopesick. I was reminded that everything Purdue touched turned to rot. Worse, with few exceptions, everyone enabled them. Without hesitation, they all lapped up Purdue’s dirty money. To make this level of killing possible, Purdue bought support from a wide range of villains: the FDA, policy makers, healthcare professionals and, yes, pain patient advocates. You know who you are.

For years, I’ve watched bad people with bad organizations take bad money to do bad things. And the opioid crisis that Purdue spearheaded has made collateral damage of all of us with pain. Many who need opioids to functionally survive no longer have access.  Many good doctors who responsibly prescribed have been indicted. And for ethical pain organizations who still want to do good work, funding has dried up. I think it’s fair to emphatically state that everyone with pain is suffering in the wake of Purdue’s and their enablers’ sins.               

With apologies, I don’t have my usual up-beat take-away, no words of comfort. Just tears, and a plea. Watch Dopesick, study it, commit this atrocity to memory. Take my word, the pharmaceutical industry is doing just that, and there’s another Purdue in the making that will attempt to make billions off the suffering and murdering of millions. All in the name of pain care. 

I was this close to being one of Purdue’s statistics. But I lived to tell my story. Perhaps it’s not foolish to hope next time more souls will be saved.

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 19 co-morbidities for nearly four decades, and became a cancer survivor in 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

Finding Life in the Midst of ‘The Pain-Cancer Connection’

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

In 2019, when I first heard my worst diagnosis, Triple-Negative Breast Cancer – yes, the rare and aggressive kind – I instinctively knew it was tied to my 37 years of high-impact pain. Indeed, for a couple of decades, I’d commented often to my partner, John, that I didn’t understand how my body could take the toll of never-ending torture without getting terminal cancer.

Like so many of us with pain, my chronic depression kept me wondering if that scenario might be a blessing. In fact, my greatest struggle was endlessly debating whether life with pain was worth living. 

Here’s the stunner! After hearing my grim diagnosis, I ultimately deduced it was. So much so, not only did I choose to fight, I took a deep dive into discovering the best chance at surviving my cancer well with the quality of life I still had intact. In short order, I armored myself with a boatload of education and committed to using integrative care all the way. Making bold, unconventional treatment decisions upped my chances to stay on the planet.

I won’t sugar-coat it; fighting breast cancer while trying to keep 19 overlapping pain and fatigue conditions in check was the hardest thing I ever did, and the jury’s still out as to whether I’ll survive. But I’m damn happy and proud to be here today, and want to share what I’ve learned.

Enter “The Pain-Cancer Connection,” the theme of For Grace’s 2021 Women In Pain Conference on Friday, September 24.

Last year when I sat down via Zoom with my sisters in pain that make up For Grace’s event planning committee, I was in the midst of chemo, bald and very ill. After pitching the theme and telling these badass women about the connection between pain and cancer, I was deeply touched that they wanted to move ahead.

None of these women have had a serious cancer diagnosis, and executing a conference, especially in the midst of COVID, is damn-near impossible work. I love these women! They play a critical part in helping me turn suffering into meaning, my primary life force.

CYNTHIA TOUSSAINT

As some wise woman shared, “All good things come in time.” As such, this virtual conference is a year late due to my rough recovery. That’s another thing about my sisters – they unconditionally supported, even insisted on, my need to take time to ramp up to this frenetic pace.

Well, here we are, and what a first-of-its-kind day we’ve got in store.   

After a warm welcome from our Director, John Garrett, I’ll start by divulging my cautionary tale with cancer treatment. Oh boy, I’ve got a ton to say about western medicine failing miserably at every turn – and how taking control of my cancer care got me this far.

Next up, integrative oncology chaplain Michael Eselun will share a touching, personal story about loss and letting go. Michael is a gem of a storyteller who brings his audience to laughter and tears, whilst stepping into the dark side with ample tenderness.  

Sprinkling in some For Grace vibe, woman in pain and comedian Anna Polack will drop a witty take on the self-help movement. Later, she’ll host interactive “fun breaks” to bring in lightness.

Also, throughout our day, we’ll spotlight woman in pain and artist Radene Marie Cook’s exquisite pieces that depict the pain-cancer experience in endless passion and color.

Then we’ll launch into our four themed sessions: Problem, Solution, Experience and Moving On.

Dr. Wayne Jonas, Executive Director of the Samueli Foundation’s Integrative Health Programs, will present the “Problem” – how the inflammation of pain can lead to cancer and how cancer treatment can spark persistent pain. Dr. Jonas will also delve generously into the benefits of integrative care. His brilliant, positive take on healing is eye-opening, and I’m forever grateful for his steady guidance.

The “Solution” session will kick-off with one of my all-time favorite people, Christin Veasley, co-founder of the Chronic Pain Research Alliance. Simply put, Chris is the best, full of information and care. She’ll explore effective tips about how to become your own best advocate, including how to partner with your practitioner for best outcome.

Next up, one of my heroes, Dr. Keith Block, founder of the Block Center for Integrative Cancer Treatment, will go in-depth about how to keep one’s “terrain” healthy throughout active cancer treatment as well as the all-important post period to avoid a recurrence. Tragically, western medicine doesn’t acknowledge the terrain, but this is the stuff that saved me! In fact, Dr. Block’s book, Life Over Cancer, was my bible during treatment.

Dynamite wellness expert and fellow sister in pain, Dr. Susan Nyanzi, will follow with how common-sense, self-care lifestyle choices can help prevent most cancers. I say, “Amen to that, Dr. Nyanzi!” Just wish I’d heard this talk five years ago.

A dynamic panel of real-life pain and cancer patients will make up our “Experience” session. Moderated by the no-holdin’-back Rhonda Smith, breast cancer survivor and executive director at California Black Health Network, these folks will share, with us and each other, inside advice about getting best care, handling adversity, the importance of self-management, and improbable “gifts” along the way.         

We’ll end with the inspiration to “Move On” despite the challenges of these epic diseases. Yes, it’s all about hope and movement with Dr. Melissa Cady, DO. Also known as “The Challenge Doctor,” this force-of-nature will teach us how to reframe illness and use movement to find joy and less suffering.   

To put a bow on the day, cancer survivor and Bump In the Road podcaster, Pat Wetzel, will share how illness and misfortune drove her to transform her life into one of helping others, traveling the world and prompting folks to hit the road to find wellness and meaning. Seriously, there are no brakes on this full-speed-ahead woman, guaranteed to inspire! 

There’s no denying that cancer and pain are upending, life-altering, sometimes terminal diseases. But as this conference will illuminate, we can fight the good fight with dignity and grace.

Last year, during my darkest hours of chemo and COVID, when I actually forgot why I wanted to live, people from my circle of support bolstered me by phone, email, text and good ol’ snail mail, to keep me keepin’ on. Truly, I don’t know if I would have made it without them.

I want this conference to be that kind of support system for those who are wrangling with pain, cancer or both. I want its shared education to make it possible for one disease not to springboard into another. I want the day to remind us that there’s enough love in this world to make life worth fighting for.

Seeing so many beautiful people come together, volunteering their time to help others avoid my fate, humbles me – and makes my heart swell.    

I look forward to connecting with you on Friday, September 24 at 9am PDT (12pm EDT). You can watch the entire conference for free on our YouTube channel.      

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 19 co-morbidities for nearly four decades, and became a cancer survivor in 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

The ‘Crazy’ Healing Power of Music

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

As a young person, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t live and breathe music.

In grade school, I couldn’t wait to get to the multi-purpose room for two reasons: chorus to sing my heart out and band to play my beloved flute. I pestered my mother relentlessly to let me start piano lessons before age seven (a family rule) because I loved the way it sounded and couldn’t wait to make the notes on the page come to life.

Then there was my favorite. When Mom brought home the record “Funny Girl”, I knew that I’d never stop singing. It was pure joy, an extension of myself. Indeed, the best part of Christmas each year was receiving a new Barbra Streisand album, a treasure that I cherished to the point of wearing out the grooves.

I grew to be a nonstop, never-gonna-quit singer, dancer and actor. It’s what I lived for, what I was born to do. Nothing was going to stop me – and in the end, nothing really did. While we don’t get to live our dreams with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, we can hold onto our passions in a different way. And for wellness alone, we ought to.

People gasp when they hear that I was unable to speak for five years due to CRPS, because that’s an unthinkable symptom caused by an unimaginable disease. But those same people overlook the fact that CRPS made me unable to sing for 15 years, like that was something disposable.

When I couldn’t sing, I didn’t get to be Cynthia. Something fundamental and basic was stripped away from me. And with that went my expression and joy.

Lately I’m hearing lots about the healing powers of expressive therapy and how creative pursuits like dancing, painting, writing and acting can unleash “feel-good” hormones (like endorphins and oxytocin) that lessen pain, depression and anxiety. I’ve also come to understand that the part of the brain that drives creativity distracts from the part that controls pain. That’s certainly been the case with me.

Cooler still, partaking in one expressive therapy can lead to the recovery of another. It was soon after writing my memoir that I could feel my body getting ready to sing again. Regaining my voice was nothing short of a miracle and, to this day, I don’t really understand how it happened. My best guess is that through the narrative therapy process I purged negative feelings and wounds, opening a healing space. But in the end, does it matter?

Now that I’ve regained my strong vocal chords, I take every opportunity to express this joy. I sing with bands, in choirs, duets with musicians and a cappella harmony trios. I also love to record – and just finished my second CD titled Crazy, which I dedicated to “women in pain who know they’re not.” 

This album was a real labor of love as I took my time (in fact, seven years!) to record it. The obstacles throughout were many – multiple CRPS flares, a broken elbow that went untreated and undiagnosed for a year, a lupus infusion drug that nearly did me in, and, oh yeah, breast cancer.

For this album, I delighted in choosing songs that took me down memory lane, songs that I loved while growing up and that speak differently to me post-illness. I had to quickly wrap up my last two recordings in December 2019 as the dark chemo clouds loomed.

Then, after becoming an unlikely cancer survivor, I eagerly designed my cover. I hadn’t been on a beach for 35 years and was bald, but that didn’t stop me from being a mermaid, leaning against my fears while having them bolster me to look toward a bright future. 

I want Crazy to bring joy and laughter to those who suffer. I’m hoping this near-and-dear project will inspire us to turn our backs on fear and “impossibles,” reignite our passions and courageously move on.

I still hear from women in pain who are stuck in the elusive search for a cure in hopes of recapturing their past. Here’s the thing – we don’t get to go back.

Our choice is to stay stuck and miserable – or let the “cure” delusion go and partake in things that bring us healing and wholeness. I’m certain that one of the tickets forward is expressive therapy. When we stir our soulful passions, wellness follows.

As a former “triple threat” performer, it’s the expressive arts that continue to inspire me to heal. For you it might be a way different sort of passion. Perhaps nature, animal welfare or the pursuit of justice is your buzz. Bottom line, we all need to find ways to differently recapture what clicks our heels and makes the hair on the back of our necks stand straight. 

Being a long-time member of the Kingdom of the Sick doesn’t exclude us from the pursuit of joy. I know it’s easier said than done when wrangling with the likes of CRPS, migraine or lupus. But it’s essential to living a full, authentic life, one worth seeing the glow of a spectacular sunset.            

I don’t think there’s anything crazy about that.                     

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 19 co-morbidities for nearly four decades, and became a cancer survivor in 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

Click here to download or order her Crazy CD.

Finding Grace in Family-Induced Pain and Trauma

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

About 20 years ago, my mother called to share what felt like a disorientating thought.

“Cynthia, of all the members of our family, you’re the together one, the capable one and the successful one,” she said.

Though flattered, my thinking was, “How can that be? I’m the daughter with all the problems. The pain, the wheelchair, the one left childless without her show-biz career.”

I’m guessing now that my mother was intuitively letting me in on a secret -- a generations-long family secret. By telling me I had the right stuff, Mom was revealing that I’d broken the trauma cycle. She potently advised that I never let my family members hold me back, to “never not succeed because of them.”

That day I realized I’d done something exceptional, but I didn’t fully understand what it was. You’d think 38 years of chronic pain would have opened my eyes, but it took a cancer crisis for me to deeply examine what my mother was shedding light on.

I come from a profoundly dysfunctional family (domestic violence, divorce, mental illness, suicide, alcoholism, etc.), one so traumatizing my doctor believes that the toll of trying to fix my family, along with the inflammation of CRPS, was what gave me cancer. To have a chance at survival, I had to walk away from the toxic members of my family, which was the hardest and best decision of my life.

Unfortunately though, walking away might not be enough. Now that I’m in remission, I’m concerned that my inability to unlock from my frequent harmful thoughts about the trauma of past assaults will bring on a swift and more aggressive cancer recurrence.

Trauma Release

Enter EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization & Repossessing). For the uninitiated, EMDR is a psychotherapy treatment designed to alleviate the distress associated with traumatic memories. For years studies have shown that people with serious adult-onset illnesses – including high-impact pain and cancer – experienced many adverse childhood events (ACE’s), as I did.

I’ve long considered doing EMDR for trauma release, but feared stirring up the debilitating depression that my family often sparks. I won’t lie to you. My EMDR plunge has been god-awful, as it’s brought on a ton of expected grieving and even rage. That being said, I’m sticking with it - and astonished by EMDR’s effectiveness and the insight it evokes.

My phenomenal practitioner, Kathy, has pointed out two major, life changing themes. The first, that family trauma is handed down over many generations, adversely changing our gene expression through what’s termed epigenetics. Sadly, I was born into the thick of this ever-rolling harm.

When I was seven, my dad jumped off a bridge due to severe mental illness. Much dysfunction led to his suicide, but this was the tipping point that my family of origin never recovered from.

After sharing what limited knowledge I had of my dad’s past, Kathy quickly assessed that, like me, he had a traumatic childhood. I was stunned to learn that his parent’s alcoholism, affairs and abandonments, along with all of the denial and covering-up, deeply wounded him. That insight gifted me great empathy for the person who shattered my world.

Mom’s side of the family was equally trauma-inducing. After her parent’s ugly divorce and Grandma having my loving grandfather committed to an institution, she had my mother kidnapped. Legend has it that this broke my aunt Grace’s heart, as her agonizing death from leukemia at age 20 soon followed.

To this day, even with advanced dementia, my mother describes her own grandmother as “a witch, the most evil person I ever met.” It goes on and on.

Healing My Inner Child

I finally understand that I have a family tree evergreen with trauma, the root of all my physical and psychological illness.

The second theme Kathy put forth is that to release my trauma we have to heal my “inner child.” I now understand that even as a fetus I took in the negative chemicals and vibe of my mother’s nightmarish situation – and it’s my inner child who’s carrying the greatest injury. The work is tricky because to reach her, we must maneuver around the many protective, life-preserving mechanisms she’s used for 60 years.

With Kathy’s guidance via Zoom, I’m slowly making friends with my inner child. While I want to protect her from the knowledge of a tragic future, ultimately I have to be vulnerable enough to let her spill the repressed memories of violence and dysfunction that host the lion’s share of our trauma.

My hope is that by healing my inner child I can end the cycle of excruciating harm I endure when I think about my family’s countless trespasses. If I can get to a strong landing point of understanding and release, my depression will turn to just sadness – and from there I can move on with better wellness.  

I want to be free.        

No matter the outcome, Mom was on to something. Thankfully, I’ve cracked the family code by asking why and doing the hard work. As Kathy reminds me, I choose “to think, not drink” - and because I don’t maintain the dysfunctional status quo, I’ve “jumped out of a sinking ship.”

All this time I thought my life had been upended by pain, but I now realize it was family trauma that caused every ounce of my misfortunate.    

This insight lovingly brings me to my aunt Grace who, by breaking the family trauma cycle, saved my mother. While I never met her, I see Grace as an angel and forever feel a deep connection, so much so I named my work for her goodness.

We’ve always been compared, and I now see that our similarity extends beyond looks and personality. A quote I continue to hear in my research about generational trauma is “The first born daughter often carries what remains unresolved in the mother.”

Grace and I were the eldest daughters and gave everything to save our broken families, an impossible task.

GRACE HAeRING

It cost my dear aunt her life – and I think she’s proud watching me fight for mine.

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 15 co-morbidities for nearly four decades, and became a cancer survivor in 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

Would You Support a Boycott of CVS?

By Pat Anson, Editor

One of the most talked about issues in the pain community over the last two weeks has been CVS Health’s announcement that its pharmacists would soon start restricting doses of opioid pain medication and limit the supply of opioids for acute pain to 7 days.

The policy only applies to customers enrolled in CVS Caremark’s pharmacy benefit management program, but it quickly triggered an online backlash from pain patients – including many who called for a boycott of CVS.

“I refuse to patronize companies that practice medicine without a license,” wrote Jeannette on PNN’s Facebook page.

“Don’t go there anymore. Hit them in their pocketbook,” wrote Lauren.

“I very rarely use a CVS and will never go there for prescriptions or anything else,” said Jackie.

“I left CVS years ago for Walgreens and I’m guessing many more will be doing so,” wrote Amanda.

"CVS has some nerve. The use of opioids, or any other drug, really, is up to the doctor and his or her patients, not a pharmacist. This is a terrible precedent, which will drive an even bigger wedge between physicians and patients,” cardiologist Arthur Kennish, MD, told the American Council on Science and Health.

The CVS boycott soon had its own hashtag on Twitter.

“Wrong way to handle, CVS! I will join the #BoycottCVS. You make it more difficult for the sick w/ no impact on the crisis,” Stephanie tweeted.

The online outrage even spilled over onto CVS’ Facebook page, where many negative posts were apparently deleted by the company.

“CVS Pharmacy, why did you take down all your Posts and comments regarding your big announcement over overriding doctor's orders and limiting patients' rights to their pain medication?” asked Lauri. “Where did they all go?”

People are so passionate about this issue that we started an online poll asking if they would support a boycott of CVS. Click here if you’d like to participate.

Would a Boycott Work?

But while there’s plenty of online enthusiasm for a boycott, it’s unlikely to be effective without the support of patient advocacy groups.  An informal survey of pain organizations by PNN found most were critical of CVS’ decision, but opposed to a boycott.

“I think boycotting CVS is not a good idea. I think a better idea is working with them for better care and finding the good in what they are doing and amplifying the bad.  They want better education, they want better disposal, and many other things we all fight for,” said Paul Gileno, President of the U.S. Pain Foundation.  “I don't think a boycott would work or be effective and can come across in a negative way. We need a loud conversation with CVS.”

“I don’t typically like boycotts” said Barby Ingle, President of the International Pain Foundation and a PNN columnist. “But if enough people have a bad experience or don’t like the CVS policies, they will see a drop in the market and will have to reevaluate what their policies will be.

“I wouldn’t call it a boycott, I would call it a shift in patients understanding that we have power and that we can choose to go to the healthcare places that fulfill our needs. Unless CVS changes their practices, I can see them continuing to lose business.”

Penney Cowan of the American Chronic Pain Association did not respond to a request for comment.

One patient advocate who gave full support for a boycott was Cynthia Toussaint, the founder of For Grace, a non-profit that supports women in pain.

“The lack of patient advocacy support for the boycott is totally surprising,” Toussaint wrote in an email. “We’ve all been beating the ‘don’t get between a doctor and a patient’ drum for years, and now that we can put our names behind that, we’re being sheepish.

“For Grace is ON BOARD with the boycott! This is chilling news for the pain world - and I hope our support helps many people. We understand CVS’s very real concern about the opioid crisis, but this new policy is too heavy handed and will greatly harm the chronic pain community!”

CVS is not the first pharmacy to restrict access to opioid medication. In 2013, Walgreens gave its pharmacists a “secret checklist” to help them screen patients with opioid prescriptions. Any red flags, such as a prescription written by a new doctor or a patient paying in cash, could result in a prescription not being filled. The policy was implemented after Walgreens was fined $80 million by the Drug Enforcement Agency for violating the rules for dispensing controlled substances.

CVS has also been fined hundreds of millions of dollars for violations of the Controlled Substances Act and other transgressions, many of them involving opioid medication.

A Florida pharmacist who was fired this year by Sam’s Club for not following the company's opioid policy says pharmacies are driven by profit, not patient care, and a boycott is unlikely to change their bottom line. 

“Patients won't need to boycott. CVS doesn't want the business anyway,” says Karl Deigert, who was fired after complaining that patient rights were being violated at Sam’s Club, which is owned by Walmart.  “Corporations are only acting in their own best interest and have no concern for the patient. Patients can save their breath and energy as any complaints filed will fall on deaf ears. 

“Overzealous corporate policy makers have no desire or interest to protect the patients' well-being. Their policy making is self-serving to protect their assets from DEA scrutiny and monetary penalties. The corporations and the majority of retail pharmacists simply do not care to help the chronic pain patient population.”

The new opioid policy at CVS doesn’t go into effect until February 1, 2018. But CVS Caremark is already tightening the rules for some opioid prescriptions. 

A Caremark client who has been getting fentanyl pain patches at CVS for years was recently notified by letter that new limits are being placed on the patches “to help ensure that your use of opioid medication for pain management is safe and appropriate.” 

But is it really about safe and appropriate use?

The letter goes on to say the patient will still be able to get the fentanyl patches, but without prior authorization they “will have to pay 100 percent of the cost.”