How Pacing Can Stop the Boom-Bust Cycle of Pain

By Gabriella Kelly-Davies, PNN Columnist

Many people living with chronic pain are stuck in a boom-bust cycle. I was one of them until I took part in a multidisciplinary pain management program and learned how to pace my activities and exercises.

On the good days when our pain level is low, we try to catch up on doing all the things we couldn’t do when the pain was bad the previous day. But this can cause a flare-up and the natural response is to rest or take a pain medication. Once the pain eases, we might try again, only to repeat the pattern of overactivity, flare-up, rest, easing of pain, then overactivity.

When this happens repeatedly, we can become frustrated and despair of ever being able to live a normal life. It becomes difficult to plan ahead because we never know how we will be on any day. Over time, there are fewer good days and more bad days and we feel as if we have lost control of our life. We become so afraid of causing a flare-up that we avoid any activity that aggravates our pain.

The end result is that our bodies lose conditioning and become less able to cope with a higher level of activity. Muscles weaken, joints stiffen, and less and less activity causes a flare-up.

The good news is that we can use a pain management technique known as pacing to increase our activity levels without stirring up the pain. Pacing involves starting at a level of activity that doesn’t aggravate our pain, breaking up tasks into smaller steps, gradually increasing the amount we do, and taking frequent, small breaks. Over time, it is possible to increase our tolerance to a range of daily activities and exercises. 

Set Goals and Build Up Gradually

Pacing can be applied to everything you do. If sitting increases your lower back pain, try to use pacing to build up your sitting tolerance. You can also pace exercises such as walking and swimming, and use it to increase your tolerance to activities such as housework, gardening and driving.

The first step is to decide which activities or exercises are your priorities, then determine your baseline tolerance to them. A starting point 20 percent below your current level is a general rule of thumb. If sitting exacerbates your lower back pain, determine how long you can sit comfortably. If you can sit for five minutes without triggering a flare-up, set your baseline at 80 percent of five minutes, which is four minutes.

Once you know your baseline, set short and long-term goals and record them in a chart. Each day, increase the time you do the activity or exercise by a predetermined small amount.

If your long-term goal is to sit and watch a movie for two hours without causing a flare-up and your baseline is four minutes, your short-term goal might be to increase your sitting by one minute each day. At the end of the week if you can sit comfortably for 10 minutes, you can repeat this pattern for the following weeks until you reach two hours. However, if you find that increasing by one minute every day stirs up your pain, try increasing by one minute every second or third day.

Record your progress in a chart like the one below so you can see how much you are building sitting tolerance.

SHORT-TERM GOALS

SITTING PROGRESS

Break Up Activities

Pacing also involves breaking up tasks into smaller amounts that don’t cause a flare-up. If carrying heavy bags of groceries from the supermarket exacerbates your back pain, try buying smaller amounts of groceries more often. For example, go to the supermarket three times a week and buy small amounts rather than doing one big shop each week.

Taking short and frequent breaks is another way of gradually building up your tolerance to an activity. For example, if you can weed your garden for 10 minutes without flaring up your pain, make your baseline 80 percent of 10 minutes, which is eight minutes. Work in the garden for eight minutes, rest for 15 to 30 minutes, garden for another eight minutes, rest for 15 to 30 minutes, and so on. During your rest period, it’s a good idea to practice your relaxation exercises and stretches.

As your tolerance to gardening increases, you can gradually build up the time you garden before you rest.

Fine-Tuning Your Plan

Pacing is a process of trial and error, and your initial goals might need to be fine-tuned if you find that pain interferes with you achieving them. Try to be patient and don’t overdo it. It’s better to take baby steps and achieve your goals than to race ahead and fall back into the boom-bust cycle.

It’s crucial you stick with your plan each day. If you are having a good low-pain day, don’t be tempted to increase each activity for longer than the predetermined time because you might risk flaring up your pain. On the other hand, if you are having a bad day, try to stick with your goals for the day, but take brief breaks and do your relaxation exercises and stretches during the breaks.

Pacing is an important part of an armory of pain management strategies. Like other multidisciplinary pain management approaches, it takes time to learn, but once you master the technique, it will put you in control of your day rather than your pain level dictating what you can and can’t do.

By keeping to your plan in a disciplined way, you will gradually build up your tolerance to activities of daily living and leisure. With practice, you, rather than your pain level, will determine how much you can do, giving you more control and a better quality of life.

Gabriella Kelly-Davies is a biographer who lives with chronic migraine.  She recently authored “Breaking Through the Pain Barrier,” a biography of trailblazing Australian pain specialist Dr. Michael Cousins. Gabriella is President of Life Stories Australia Association and founder of Share your life story.

Why the Pain Community Should Support Voting Rights Legislation

By Dr. Lynn Webster, PNN Columnist

I believe to my core that all people should be able to vote without experiencing intimidation or hardship. People who are in chronic pain -- many of whom require opioids to enjoy any quality of life -- live outside of society's safety net. They don't run for political office because they can't. They don't make the laws that oppress them. And now they're in danger of being unable to vote against those laws.

The House of Representatives recently passed H.R. 4, which is a revised version of the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act. The bill is designed to restore provisions of the 1965 Voting Rights Act that were diminished by the U.S. Supreme Court in 2013 and further gutted last year. Essentially, the court’s 2013 ruling allowed some states to change their election laws without receiving federal approval. While H.R. 4 passed the House on a party line vote, it now faces opposition in the evenly divided Senate.

H.R. 1, the For the People Act 2021, is another voting rights bill that is being considered. It would ensure same-day voter registration and early voting throughout the country for national elections. This flexibility is precisely what many people in pain need. The law also attempts to correct the corrupt gerrymandering that contributes to the country’s hyper-partisan divide. This bill would also be important to support.

Voter Suppression Impacts the Most Vulnerable

On August 28, I marched in Salt Lake City in support of easier and more practical ways to vote and to protect the right of everyone to participate in our democratic process. When I attended this rally, I learned that voter suppression is a much broader problem than I had realized. It isn't only an issue involving people of color. Intentionally or not, voter suppression prevents many subsets of Americans from having a voice in our democracy.

Although the voting rights movement has been championed mostly by people of color, everyone should be involved. This affects all of us. It targets people who are poor and can’t afford to take a day off to vote, and those who can't leave their home because they can't pay for childcare, are caregivers for the elderly or sick, or are sick or disabled themselves. People with severe, disabling pain and those who provide care for them are affected by voter suppression laws as much as those of any other minority. 

During my walk from Utah’s state capital to Washington Park on that hot Saturday, I realized my 40-minute hike was nothing compared to the challenges that many had to endure during the last election, and may have to experience in future elections, including waiting for hours. I was sweating and thirsty. Fortunately, the organizers provided us with cold water. Others may not be so lucky.

In Georgia, restrictions have recently been passed to prevent voters standing in line from receiving water. The laws also limit absentee ballots and the number of ballot boxes, which makes it more difficult for caregivers, the disabled, and people with disabling pain to vote.  

As I marched, I began to wonder how people in pain would be able to tolerate standing in a long line. How could people who use a wheelchair or walker, or who suffer from chronic migraine headaches, fibromyalgia or severe arthritis, endure the wait? Even healthy senior citizens and others who must void their bladders frequently may be unable to stand in a long line to have their voice heard.

If one person’s rights are diminished, the rights of all people are diminished. These restrictive laws are unnecessary and it would be an injustice for us to allow their passage.

The Pain Community Needs a Voice

There are 20 million people in the U.S. with disabling pain. This represents more than 12 percent of the total number of people who voted in the last presidential election. That is more than three times the difference in votes between Biden and Trump. It is a consequential population.

Pain and addiction don’t preferentially affect Republicans, Democrats or Independents. They harm all people equally, and people with pain and addictions are not tied to any political tribe.

People in pain do not have a collective political voice. They have been marginalized and forced into the darkness. People with substance use disorders also have been silenced. Our drug laws are punitive and utterly disastrous. The only way to change this is by voting for those who will represent our interests.

Therefore, it's important for the pain and addiction communities, regardless of their political allegiances, to support the John Lewis Voting Rights Act. The law would help restore the rights granted under the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and empower the federal government to enforce those rights.

What We Can Do

I suggest everyone call or email their senators, even if their senators support the bill. They need to know where their constituents stand. If possible, join and donate to an organization fighting for your right to vote. Write an op-ed for your local newspaper or media outlet expressing your views on how to make it easier, not harder, for you to vote.

Disenfranchised people are in danger of losing their right to vote, and people in pain are an important constituency. Forming a collective voice to advocate for all people who suffer chronic pain is just as important, although it is a topic for another day. The time to support these voting rights bills is now…before it’s too late.

Lynn R. Webster, MD, is a Senior Fellow at the Center for U.S. Policy (CUSP) and Chief Medical Officer of PainScript. He also consults with the pharmaceutical industry. Lynn is author of the award-winning book The Painful Truth, and co-producer of the documentary It Hurts Until You Die.

You can find Lynn on Twitter: @LynnRWebsterMD.

The Tangled Mess of Prescription Opioid Guidelines

By Roger Chriss, PNN Columnist

The opioid overdose crisis has impacted medical practice in unanticipated and unfortunate ways. A recent JAMA study warned that efforts to reduce opioid prescribing through tapering raises the risk of overdose and mental health crises in pain patients on stable, long-term opioid therapy.

This study is the latest to find that opioid tapering is fraught with risks. Amid this, the American Medical Association has issued a call to revamp the CDC’s problematic 2016 opioid prescribing guideline because of its “devastating” impact on pain patients.

“The CDC should remove arbitrary thresholds, restore balance and support comprehensive, compassionate care as it revises the guideline,” wrote AMA news editor Kevin O’Reilly.

But revising the CDC guideline may not have much effect. The guideline is voluntary and doesn’t have the force of law, but many states have implemented their own guidelines in ways that make them enforceable. They are often paired with requirements and regulations covering everything from daily dose and prescription duration to drug testing, pain management agreements, and tapering. These state guidelines do not necessarily follow the CDC guideline on even basic issues of dose, duration or recommended use.

Some states, including Minnesota and Oregon, have adopted the CDC’s recommended threshold of 90 morphine milligram equivalents (MME) as a maximum daily dose not requiring consultation with a pain management specialist or a special exemption. Other states make their own rules. Washington has kept to 120 MME in its latest guideline update, as has Tennessee.

State policies also differ on the merits of using opioids for chronic pain. The Medical Board of California recommends that physicians and patients “develop treatment goals together” for long-term use of opioids, while Arizona’s opioid guideline flatly warns physicians: “Do not initiate long-term opioid therapy for most patients with chronic pain.”

On tapering, states do not agree much at all and generally do not follow federal HHS guidelines that tapering be individualized and “slow enough to minimize opioid withdrawal symptoms.”

Minnesota’s opioid guideline recommends that physicians “routinely discuss tapering with patients at every face to face visit” and allows for forced, rapid tapers or discontinuation under some circumstances.

Tennessee’s guideline notes that there are “many reasons to discontinue chronic opiate therapy” and “several different weaning protocols outlined by various sources.” It does not recommend any specific one, leaving it up to individual doctors to decide how to taper their patients.

The VA and Department of Defense have their own guideline, which contains a complex set of treatment algorithms that span several pages and effectively exclude almost all patients from long-term opioid use. Further, according to a separate algorithm, the VA is clearly aiming to taper or discontinue opioids in as many patients as possible. The guideline states "If prescribing opioid therapy for patients with chronic pain, we recommend a short duration.”

The Trouble With Algorithms

Many of the state guidelines are paired with a prescription drug monitoring programs (PDMPs) and use NarxCare, a private analytics system that gives individual risk scores to every patient based on their medical and prescription drug history. PNN first covered NarxCare in 2018, noting that patients can be automatically “red flagged” by the system for seeing too many doctors or using multiple pharmacies.

Maia Szalavitz recently wrote about Narxcare in Wired, noting that legitimate patients were being denied medications or abandoned by doctors because of their Narxcare scores.

“A growing number of researchers believe that NarxCare and other screening tools like it are profoundly flawed,” Szalavitz wrote. “None of the algorithms that are widely used to guide physicians’ clinical decisions — including NarxCare — have been validated as safe and effective by peer-reviewed research.”

A similar problem exists for data from PDMPs. A well-documented analysis by Terri Lewis, PhD, found that “machine learning” algorithms are often based on untested assumptions and financial incentives for providers, not on patient care.

“The worst part of machine learning (ML) snake-oil isn’t that it’s useless or harmful — it’s that ML-based statistical conclusions have the veneer of mathematics, the empirical facewash that makes otherwise suspect conclusions seem neutral, factual and scientific,” wrote Lewis. “What the PDMP is NOT designed to do, is detect patients who are using their opioids correctly from patients who are misusing their medications.”

All of the above imposes a significant risk and burden on patients, in particular if they relocate for work or school, or seek medical care outside of their state of residence.

In essence, patients are subjected to a set of federal recommendations from the CDC that may inform some state laws or regulations that are then implemented in a privatized process with little transparency or accountability. Patients simply cannot tell what is happening at the time of implementation, and if they see a problem after the fact, it is usually too late to fix it.

The AMA’s current effort to improve the CDC guideline for opioids is a laudable step forward. But the mess is far larger and more complex, and the role of the CDC is smaller than is generally appreciated amid an abundance of contradictory guidelines and regulations.

Roger Chriss lives with Ehlers Danlos syndrome and is a proud member of the Ehlers-Danlos Society. Roger is a technical consultant in Washington state, where he specializes in mathematics and research. 

Pain Desensitization: How to Overcome Fear of Chronic Pain

By Gabriella Kelly-Davies, PNN Columnist

Something common to us all is a dislike of pain. Sudden or acute pain is a warning signal that something is wrong. When it strikes, we try to escape from it by taking a pain reliever, distracting ourselves, resting or seeing a health professional.

This approach usually works after an injury or surgery while waiting for the damaged tissues to heal and the acute pain to settle. But it is not as effective for chronic pain when the cause of the pain is a malfunction in the processing of pain signals in the central nervous system, rather than tissue damage.

While chronic pain is not generally a warning sign, the brain may still see it as a threat. It prompts the same avoidance behaviors we use for acute pain. Many people living with chronic pain are so fearful of triggering a flare up, they avoid anything they believe exacerbates their pain. This fear can be so intense it prompts them to leave the workforce prematurely, stop doing usual daily activities such as shopping and housework, and give up doing all the things that previously gave them pleasure.

Australian psychologist Michael Nicholas, PhD, was worried that many of his patients at the Michael J. Cousins Pain Management and Research Centre in Sydney limited their daily activities to avoid pain. Some patients even tried staying in bed all day to prevent provoking their pain.

Nicholas wondered whether an exposure technique used by psychologists to treat phobias such as fear of heights could be applied to pain management. In exposure therapy, psychologists create a safe environment, then gradually expose an individual to the thing they fear. With repeated exposures in a safe environment, anxiety and fear can be reduced.

“I thought exposure therapy might reduce the fear of pain and the resulting avoidance behaviors,” Nicholas told me. “This would mean training the brain to learn not to react to chronic pain. I started encouraging my patients to sit quietly for 20 minutes, acknowledge their pain, but not react to it. After doing this repeatedly over a few weeks, many patients told me their pain was still there, but they were no longer so bothered by it. They lost the urge to escape from it.”

Nicholas described the technique as pain desensitization because his patients were familiar with the idea of pain sensitization, and he thought this could be a way of countering that effect.

For the last few decades, Nicholas and his colleagues have used this approach in the multidisciplinary pain management programs at their center. As with learning any new skill, he says mastering pain desensitization takes a lot of practice.

“You’ve got to practice pain desensitization regularly,” Nicholas explained. “Often people aren’t prepared to do that.” He likens it to lifting weights at the gym to build up muscle strength, something that usually takes weeks or even months.

“If you’re trying to change the way your brain responds to pain; you’ve got to do a lot of workouts. It can take up to two to three months of daily practice to master pain desensitization. But once you get the hang of it, it reduces the distress caused by your pain.”

I learned pain desensitization in 2008 in a three-week pain management program. It took me several weeks of twice-daily practice to fully grasp it, but I soon incorporated it into my usual routine. For years it has been a seamless part of my day, and I practice it regularly, especially when I have a flare-up.

Learning Pain Desensitization

Try making pain desensitization a part of your daily relaxation practice. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing your mind on breathing calmly. After a couple of minutes of gentle breathing and relaxing, turn your attention to the pain. If you have several painful sites, choose one of them.

While focusing attention on the pain, try not to think about how bad it is. You can’t stop yourself from thinking, but you don’t have to respond to the thoughts. Just let thoughts pass you by like a leaf floating on the stream. Calmly focus on the sensation you call pain and see what happens. Don’t try to change the pain or attempt to make it go away because that is trying to escape from it. Simply let it be there and continue relaxing.

Sometimes the pain might start to feel worse because you are used to trying to escape from it. If this happens, continue with your breathing exercises and any increase in pain will settle. Try to observe your pain as calmly as possible, almost as if it is in someone else’s body. Or imagine you are doing a scientific experiment and focus on the pain like a scientist might observe a leaf or a bug under a microscope. Be as objective as possible, without reacting emotionally to it.

If your mind wanders, bring it gently back to focusing on the pain. Continue relaxing and use your breathing exercises to calm yourself. Keep this up for about 15 to 20 minutes and see what happens. Look at it as a type of experiment and evaluate what you notice. Remember, you’re just allowing yourself to experience the pain that will be there anyway, even if sometimes masked by medications. You aren’t doing anything that can harm you.

By allowing yourself to feel the pain repeatedly, you can habituate to it, because our brains naturally habituate to repetitive stimuli. This effect is similar to what happens when you put a new painting on your living room wall. At first, you notice it whenever you walk past it. But after a while you notice it less. You remain aware that it’s there, but you don’t notice it as much.

Don’t expect too much too soon. Just keep practicing because eventually you will retrain your brain to not respond with alarm to the pain. You’ll find that as you get better at desensitizing, you also become more relaxed when feeling your pain.

Once you have learned the technique, try it whenever your pain starts to trouble you, particularly during exercise or other activities that aggravate your pain. If pain stops you from falling asleep, try desensitizing in bed at night.

Start with a mix of long and short sessions -- two or three 20-minute sessions each day. In between, try brief sessions of one to two minutes whenever you notice your pain or when exercising. After a few weeks it will become a habit and you’ll find yourself doing it without realizing it.

Pain desensitization isn’t a miracle cure for chronic pain. Instead, it is one of the many techniques used in multidisciplinary pain management programs to modify the experience of pain. Importantly, it helps people reduce the impact of pain on their life.

“You have to see it as a training exercise, not as a gimmick,” Nicholas advises. “It’s a skill you’ve got to learn, like learning to play tennis. But as with tennis, once you’ve mastered it, you’ll find you do it automatically without thinking. Many people are surprised by how effective it can be for reducing the distress caused by their pain.”

Gabriella Kelly-Davies is a biographer who lives with chronic migraine.  She recently authored “Breaking Through the Pain Barrier,” a biography of trailblazing Australian pain specialist Dr. Michael Cousins. Gabriella is President of Life Stories Australia Association and founder of Share your life story.

Rare Disease Spotlight: Friedreich’s Ataxia

By Barby Ingle, PNN Columnist 

This month’s rare disease spotlight is on Friedreich’s ataxia, a genetic nervous system disorder, first described by Nikolaus Friedreich, a German doctor, in the 1860’s.

Dr. Friedreich may not have fully understood how genes worked over 150 years ago, but now we know that Friedreich’s ataxia is inherited by children who receive two defective copies of the FXN gene, one from each parent.

People born with Friedreich’s ataxia (FA) usually develop their first symptoms in childhood. They often have difficulty walking, poor balance and slurred speech due to nerve degeneration in their spinal cords. The symptoms are progressive and steadily worsen with time.

As we learned in high school biology class, the nervous system continually carries information from the brain to the body and back again to the brain. The nerves tell our bodies how to move and walk, without us having to think about every step. With FA these sensory signals are disrupted and the brain has difficulty coordinating balance and movement, resulting in impaired function. Fortunately, FA does not affect reasoning and thinking, just the ability to communicate.

There are other types of ataxia diseases, all rare, but FA is the most common hereditary ataxia condition in the United States. According to the National Organization for Rare Disorders, about 1 in every 50,000 people inherit this disorder.  

As I was researching this rare disease, I reached out to a teenager with FA to see how she was handling the symptoms at such a young age. To protect her identity, I will call her Ken.

It has been noted that it takes about 10 years of dedication in an area of study to become an expert on a topic. In Ken’s case, she has lived her whole life with FA and become an expert as her symptoms developed. Ken has difficulties with her balance, coordination and movement. She is on medication, but still has muscle spasms and soreness.

Ken also has anxiety and depression due to the disruptive effects of FA on her life. She believes there is a societal stigma on people with rare diseases and wishes the world wouldn’t judge her.  

About 15% of people with FA do not have any onset of symptoms until they are 25 or older. Some with FA can live well into their 60’s and beyond. Older patients with FA may develop scoliosis that requires surgical procedures or back braces.

Similar to other neurological conditions such as central pain syndrome, FA patients may develop difficulty swallowing. FA can also lead to cardiomyopathy, a disease of cardiac muscle that causes heart failure or arrhythmia. About a third of people with FA develop diabetes.

Genetic testing can now provide a conclusive FA diagnosis, so if an infant or toddler is showing symptoms of the disease, they should have an evaluation by a neurologist or another medical professional to determine the cause.  FA is not yet one of the genetic conditions covered by newborn screening legislation that I have spoken to my state representatives in Arizona about. But there are federal laws that help us check for inherited conditions like FA.

I look forward to the day that all 7,000+ rare diseases are screened for at the time of birth so that preventative care and coordination can take place, giving children a better chance at a fuller and longer life.  If you have Friedreich’s ataxia and are interested in being a part of the research to help find a cure and treatment, please contact the FA Research Alliance (FARA).

My hope for Ken and all those living with FA is that a cure will be found someday. In the meantime, we can do our part to help lower stigma about rare conditions by advocating for research and meaningful support for the millions of people who live with them.

Barby Ingle lives with reflex sympathetic dystrophy (RSD), migralepsy and endometriosis. Barby is a chronic pain educator, patient advocate, and president of the International Pain Foundation. She is also a motivational speaker and best-selling author on pain topics. More information about Barby can be found at her website.

How Chronic Pain Affects Relationships

By Victoria Reed, PNN Columnist

People with chronic pain are often engaged in a battle with their own bodies. Unfortunately, sometimes we also struggle to be believed and supported by family members, friends and doctors. While some may be fortunate to have a supportive spouse or significant other, many pain sufferers lose their life partners along the way, as well as friends.

Pain can take a toll on our relationships. In my own experience, a good friend slowly faded into the background during a particularly difficult time when I was having numerous flares from rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia. The flares cause debilitating fatigue and severe pain. I would often need to cancel plans and never could (and still can’t) predict which day I would wake up feeling awful.

Sometimes when I did not cancel plans, I would end up being miserable the entire time and would regret my decision. Eventually, the invitations and phone calls dwindled, as I was probably considered unreliable.

During that time, I would go for weeks struggling to function and keep going for the sake of my family and young children. But life doesn’t stop when you have a chronic illness. Homework still has to get done, as well as housework, financial matters and shuttling the kids to and from school and to sporting events.

One time, as I was driving my daughter home from gymnastics practice, I was so tired that my car ended up nose to nose with another car in a turning lane! I just barely missed having a head-on collision! Fortunately, the woman I almost hit wasn’t angry, but was actually concerned and asked if I was okay. The experience was frightening because I’d put my child in danger by driving when I was so fatigued.

It was then that I realized how serious my fatigue was and worried about the effect it was having on my relationships and family. Unless you actually experience this kind of fatigue, it can be hard to really understand it.

Additionally, my husband (at the time) was having trouble coping with my illnesses. We had been married for 18 years when we decided to divorce. I obviously wasn’t the same person that I was in the beginning and couldn’t contribute an equal share in the relationship.

The truth of the matter is that chronic pain is hard on everyone. It takes its toll not only on those physically suffering, but on spouses and significant others as well. Some make it known that it’s not working, while others quietly build resentment until they can no longer stay in the relationship. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it’s “I want a divorce” or “I’m leaving” or “I can’t do this anymore.”

Perhaps they are overwhelmed by increased household chores and responsibilities or feel neglected in some way. Or maybe they fall out of love because you are not the person they married or agreed to be with. Perhaps they are stressed because of the additional financial burden resulting from your lack of income. Perhaps they don’t believe in your illness or think that you are faking your symptoms.

I certainly don’t have all the answers, but you must then pick up the pieces, move on and try to create a new life for yourself. If you have kids, you may have guilt about having an illness or believe that you are the cause of your family’s dismantling. 

Having chronic pain is like having a third person in the relationship. That “person” demands constant attention and spends many hours trying to get between the two of you, taking time away from you and your loved one.

However, if you are lucky enough to have that special someone who is capable and willing to deal with your chronic illness and truly understands and accepts, it might not mean the end of your relationship. Many people do stick with and endure the challenges of having an ill partner. It takes a very special person to be able to do that.

It’s good to have a few good friends who are supportive and understanding, rather than a bunch of people who say they are friends, but never step up to the plate. I’ve learned that family members who can’t be supportive have no place in my life. I believe it’s important to surround myself with positive people. Negative people can be emotionally draining and almost always are takers, rather than givers.

Those of us who have been abandoned must move on for our own emotional and physical well-being. As awful as it might seem at the time, it gives us the opportunity to meet new people who are able to give the love, support and compassion that we deserve.

Victoria Reed lives in Cleveland, Ohio. She suffers from endometriosis, fibromyalgia, degenerative disc disease and rheumatoid arthritis.

A Pained Life: Do You Know the Magic Words?

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

My chronic pain started with a spontaneous, horrific and sharp pain, like a blade slicing through my left temple. Within two weeks, I was disabled by it. Almost everything triggered the pain, even the tiniest wisp of hair or whisper of a breeze.

I was 26 at the time. I could only afford to go to a local hospital clinic. No matter which doctor saw me or their specialty, no one could figure it out.

Then I started dating Scott, one of the ophthalmology residents. On our date, Scott kept trying to touch the left side of my face. I kept pulling away.

“Where shouldn’t I touch you?” he asked.

I mapped out the area on the left side of my face, from my scalp down to my cheek. The exact same area I indicated at all of my clinic visits. Scott looked shocked.

“I know what you have. You have trigeminal neuralgia,” he said.

I knew of the horrors of this pain. I didn't want this diagnosis. But at least now I had a name for it.

Fast forward to when I could afford a private doctor. I went to see a neuro-ophthalmologist and told him my story. Feeling anxious and afraid, I related it in a manner that may not have been very coherent as it might otherwise have been.

“Don’t be so schizophrenic,” the doctor said. “Tell me what happened more clearly.”

He decided I was “anxious” and that was probably the cause of my pain. He told me to come back in three months and see if anything had changed by then.

I didn’t want to go back, but what choice did I have? It turned out to be a very good decision.  It was at this appointment I learned that “magic words” exist in the medical world.

“Is the pain the same?” the doctor asked. When I said yes, he said to come back in another three months.

I was walking to the door when a thought hit me. “You know for a few seconds today I thought it was finally over,” I said. He immediately perked up

“What made you think that?” he asked.

I was on the train and a lady had brushed against my face. And the pain didn’t come right away. I was happy for abuut 20 seconds, when the pain hit me like a sucker punch.

“It’s time we brought you into the hospital,” the doctor said. “We need to do some tests.”

I had no way of knowing, but I had uttered the magic words. Unbeknownst to me, that specific change was a distinct sign of trigeminal neuralgia. 

How many times have we gone to the doctor and gotten the “I dunno” or “I don’t understand your complaint” answer? 

I have a feeling for many of our disorders there are magic words like “abracadabra” or “open sesame” that change the way doctors see us. The sad part is there is no good way to figure them out. Do too much research and you may get labeled a hypochondriac. Do none and you'll never know the secret words. Is there a middle ground? 

It reminds me of the fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin, about an imp who spins straw into gold in exchange for a girl's firstborn child. If the girl guesses his name within three days, she could keep her baby. She does, and Rumpelstiltskin goes away. 

For many of us, if we guess the right words, we get the right tests, the right diagnosis and maybe even the right treatment. If only it wasn’t a fairy tale.

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here.

10 Reasons for Lawmakers To Oppose Limits on Rx Opioids

By Matthew Giarmo, PhD, Guest Columnist

1. Government Leaders Have a Choice

History may record one day that politicians and policymakers had a choice: They could champion the rights of 50 million Americans in chronic pain who desperately need a hero or they could be scorned for unnecessary cruelty and playing politics with people's pain.

The gathering storm is a backlash to the heightened regulatory and surveillance culture that has commandeered our nation’s healthcare system. It will not go unanswered. We no longer allow government into our bedrooms to police sexual behavior, gender identity and abortion rights. And we sure as hell will not allow government to spy on our doctors and medicine cabinets.

The government has blood on its hands from chronic pain patients resorting to suicide and street drugs after being abandoned by physicians who fear imprisonment by DEA agents who have no medical training or patient knowledge.

2. Opioids Misunderstood

Opioids are not only cheap; they are uniquely effective in restoring quality and functionality to millions of Americans who suffer from chronic or intractable pain. Opioid medication is safe when used properly, while long term use of ibuprofen and acetaminophen is toxic.

When we examine data on efficacy, toxicity, dependency, teen use, mortality and preventable causes of death, opioids do not warrant consideration as a threat to national health security. There is no opioid "crisis" or "epidemic."

I believe any determination to the contrary is a byproduct of inappropriate agency regulation (the 2016 CDC Opioid Guideline) and biased and conflicted advice from an extremist sect (Physicians for Responsible Opioid Prescribing) operating at the fringes of the medical community. The growing realization among doctors and patients is that "the fools are in charge" and "the foxes are guarding the hen house.”

Inappropriate prescribing that resulted in spikes of opioid abuse, such as pill mills and dentists disposed to trade 60 Percocet for wisdom teeth, ended several years ago. So did the marketing of extended-release formulations like OxyContin.

3. Junk Science

You may have been seduced by contrived overdose statistics (“500,000 people died from an opioid overdose”) that remain viral, despite the CDC itself acknowledging that 48% of deaths due to illicit fentanyl were erroneously counted as deaths due to a prescription opioid.

When we break down the politically convenient and alarmist statistics into deaths involving polysubstance use, suicide, reckless dosing out of frustration with pain, and drugs that were never prescribed to the decedent, the 125 deaths per day initially claimed by the CDC looks more like 5 deaths a day.

It would be more appropriate to attribute these fatalities more to pain itself than to pain medication, as well as drug experimentation, depression or diversion. Most of those who abused OxyContin reported never having a valid script. That is no basis on which to separate chronic pain patients from their medication.

But as long as an opioid shows up in a post-mortem toxicology screen, deaths are being classified as an opioid overdose; even when the opioid was one of several drugs consumed, when it cannot be determined whether the opioid was consumed in a medically relevant way, and even when the decedent was hit by a bus.

The overdose numbers had to be gamed, which makes sense when you consider that in 70% of cases, rulings on causes of death are made before the toxicology data is even available. Especially when you consider that those sky-high opioid fatalities seem out of step with the low rates of dependency (6% for chronic pain patients, 0.7% for acute pain and less than 0.1% for post surgical pain).

As a social psychologist, government analyst and research critic, I have identified about a dozen ways the science of opioids has been corrupted for financial gain, professional survival or advancement, and in service of a political cause.

One example is the claim that “80% of heroin users first misused prescription opioids.” That canard was violently ripped from a SAMHSA report and is misleadingly used to imply that 4 in 5 patients prescribed painkillers eventually use heroin. On the contrary, less than 4% of prescription opioid users turn to heroin. 

Incidentally, 67% of heroin addicts reported that their prior use of prescription painkillers had not occurred in the past year. Hardly seems like an irresistible urge to me.

4. Not Knowing When to Say When

Much like Sen. Joe McCarthy wreaked havoc on a nation with reckless claims about communist infiltrators, opioid McCarthyism is killing our most vulnerable and innocent populations -- veterans, senior citizens, persons with disabilities and the chronically ill.

Regulations complicate and delay the dispensing of legal scripts for these patients at the pharmacy, creating a "what's-it-gonna-be-this-time" syndrome in which patients endure a new burden every month.

Prescriptions for opioid painkillers have declined 40% since 2011, while overdoses on heroin and illicit fentanyl have soared. As National Public Radio falsely reported that doctors are “still flooding the U.S. with opioid prescriptions,” solid research offers definitive evidence that prescriptive austerity is helping to drive the spike in overdose fatalities.

A recently published study found that among 113,000 patients on long-term opioid therapy, the incidence of a non-fatal overdose among those subjected to tapering was 68% higher than those who were not tapered. The incidence of a mental health crisis such as depression, anxiety or attempted suicide was 128% higher among those who were tapered.  

5. The Inherent Absurdity of MME Thresholds

Forced tapering is undertaken to achieve an arbitrary one-size-fits-all threshold that makes no sense. There is no basis in science or nature for determining how much medication is too much. As long as patients are started at the lowest effective dose and titrated up gradually, as dictated by unresolved pain and any side effects, there is no limit to how much a patient might need 5, 10 or 15 years downstream.

Arbitrary dose limits defined in terms of morphine milligram equivalents (MME) ignore the importance of individual differences in medical diagnosis, treatment history (tolerance), and enzyme-mediated (genetic) sensitivity to pain and to pain medication. MME thresholds falsely assume that all opioids are equal and impact all patients the same way.

MMEs may be convenient for bureaucrats and expedient for politicians, but their scientific utility -- and by extension the CDC guideline itself -- is nullified by differences in the half-life of different drugs, differences in their absorption into the bloodstream, and differences in their rate of metabolism in different people.

6. Without Liberty or Justice for All

For arguments sake, let us suppose that we lose as many souls to prescription opioids as we do to car accidents. What have we done to rein in this other preventable cause of death? We create laws requiring safety belts, air bags, annual inspections, and compliance with speed limits. We do not criminalize the sale, operation and distribution of Honda Civics. We do not restrict the number of cars on the road. And we do not drop DEA teams behind enemy lines in Detroit.

But at a time when Americans are growing weary with a drug war that has lasted longer than our wars in Vietnam and Afghanistan -- and when Americans have softened their views on marijuana -- the DEA, perhaps in a desperate search for new bogeymen, expanded its theater of operations to treat pharmaceutical companies as drug cartels, doctors as dealers, and patients as addicts.

As we speak, your state is creating a mini-DEA inside its Department of Health or Medical Board that weaponizes the Prescription Drug Monitoring Program as a surveillance and detection tool, to spy on and red flag each patient and doctor whose script or “NARX Score” exceeds an arbitrary limit for which no basis in science or nature exists.

Think about all the sacred ideals we’ve abandoned to support our failed effort to bring a specious “opioid crisis” under control: the Constitution; a compassionate care system that had been the cornerstone of a civilization; a physician’s right to exercise clinical judgement; their right to due process; and a system of individualized, patient-centered care.

Government is obliged to ease civil unrest -- not foment it. But federal and state governments are hell bent on driving wedges between groups of stakeholders: physicians against patients; patients and physicians against pharmacists; patients against the public at large; physicians against their own office staffs; patients against employers; and physicians against medical boards. That is McCarthyism.  

All too commonplace on social media are acrimonious altercations between the grieving survivors of overdose victims and those caring for friends or family living with chronic pain. There's no reason we can't simultaneously provide the medicine, assistance and requisite sympathy to Americans who need addiction treatment and Americans who need pain medication -- especially when we consider that only 6% of chronic pain patients prescribed painkillers develop dependency.

The NARX Score itself, a deeply flawed hotdog of a composite that ostensibly assigns a number to a person based on their supposed risk of overdose, is morally and intellectually offensive. It does little to assuage those who use the term “pain patient genocide" and compare it to the demonization and murder of 11 million Jews, gypsies, homosexuals and criminals in Germany during the Second World War.

7. Opioid Crisis As a Scapegoat

Have we as a nation become more addicted to the "opioid crisis" than we ever were to opioids? For our nation’s leaders, opioids have become an irresistible diversion and scapegoat. It’s a means to repair a tarnished reputation (see Chris Christie) or display rare bipartisan unity to disarm a cynical and frustrated constituency.

In a striking reversal of cause and effect, government officials would have you blame opioids for the loss of jobs, identities, finances and relationships that have come to define life in 21st century America. In reality, we have two crises: a crisis of chronic pain estimated to involve 50 million Americans and a psychosocial crisis linked to the combined effects of economic disparity, globalization, automation, immigration, social media, terrorism, pandemics, and the dissolution of national unity into political sects and interests.

Opioid critics like to point out that opioids only mask painful symptoms rather than address the underlying cause. But isn’t that what government officials do when they attempt to conceal or compensate for the true ills of our nation by playing whack-a-mole with prescription pain relievers?

8. The One-Track Mind

Last year a record 93,331 Americans died of a drug overdose, the vast majority involving illicit fentanyl and other street drugs, not prescription opioids.

We observed a 190% rise in cocaine overdoses and a 500% rise in overdoses involving methamphetamine. We have also seen increases in the abuse of alcohol and OTC substances like dextramorphan, diphenhydramine, ibuprofen, acetaminophen and loperamide, a drug used to treat diarrhea.

How many of those deaths can we blame on Purdue Pharma? Will collecting billions of dollars in settlement money from opioid distributors solve our overdose problem? Or will it enrich plaintiff law firms just like the Tobacco Settlement did?

9. An Unfair Fight

I was inspired to write this by a family -- MY family. I know what it’s like to see a patient’s treatment plan forcibly altered and how it affects not only the patient, but all those who cherish and depend on them. Children get less attention. Spouses assume a greater share of household responsibilities. Employers deal with lower productivity.

This memo and a lengthier report will go out to families and physicians across the country with the aid of hundreds of patient-advocate communities I mobilized on social media platforms. Still, it hardly seems like a fair fight. The meek of the Earth versus an army of federally funded Type A regulators and paid expert witnesses falling over one another to advance their careers and pad their bank accounts by making life harder for people to treat their pain.

10. Taking the Battle to the States

You may decide against reading my report, but you will likely hear about it from peers, co-workers or constituents in the months to come. It is making the rounds. State legislatures. Medical boards. Medical associations. Patient advocacy groups. Defense attorneys (I was twice asked to serve as an expert witness by physician counsel). Federal agencies.

In the past two weeks, my associates have disseminated my report to the American Medical Association, AARP, federal and state officials, members of Congress and the White House.

I invite readers to do the same by downloading my report, “There Is No Crisis.” We’re just getting started.

Matthew Giarmo, PhD, is a social psychologist who has worked with terminally ill cancer patients. Matthew authors research-based reports in social phenomena, including the impact on workforce development of the Software Revolution and Great Recession, and the degradation of science by professional and institutional requirements. 

My Migraine Journey: From Electrodes to Cannabis

By Gabriella Kelly-Davies, PNN Columnist

The room swirled as my eyes fluttered open, and I could feel something tight around my neck. It felt like a vice, making it difficult to swallow. The antiseptic smell was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Struggling to focus my eyes, I heard a voice I knew well — it was Ben, a doctor at the hospital where I worked as a physiotherapist.

“How do you feel?” Ben said, shining a bright torch into my eyes.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in emergency. An ambulance brought you here. You were lying on the side of the road, unconscious.”

Ben told me the ambulance officers had received reports of cyclists being pushed off their bikes at the quieter end of the beach. They assumed that’s what had happened to me.

That day, my twenty-fourth birthday, heralded the onset of a life of migraine attacks.

Gabriella Kelly-Davies

During the 1990s, I regularly traveled around Australia for work while studying business at night. In the plane as I read my textbooks, a pain like an electric shock would shoot up the back of my neck and head.

It lasted for several minutes, then a deep ache started in the base of my skull. The pain eventually spread upwards, fanning out until it covered the entire back of my head and temples.

All too soon, the pain I experienced while flying became more regular and was most severe after sailing and playing my piano or cello. Cycling and tennis also triggered it.

In 1996, I started a job in Parliament House, Canberra as a policy adviser to a senior politician. Mid-morning, I would feel shooting pains running up the back of my head, accompanied by waves of intense nausea. Soon afterwards, a deep ache in the base of my skull started, quickly spreading up over my head and into my temples. My eyes felt gritty, as if they were full of sand, and I yearned for them to explode to release the mounting pressure inside them.

Often when the pain was at its worst, I couldn’t think of the words I wanted to say, infuriating some colleagues. Sometimes I couldn’t string two words together coherently. My mouth refused to form the words I wanted to say, as if the messages weren’t getting through from my brain to the muscles in my face.

The Merry-Go-Round

Returning to Sydney in 1999, I despaired of ever being free of pain and nausea. I consulted an endless round of specialists and health professionals, but none of them helped much. I felt overwhelmed by head and neck pain and a general sense of ever-increasing pressure inside my head and eyes. I fantasized about boring a hole through the base of my skull with an electric drill to release the tension.

Between 2000 and 2005, I progressively stopped doing all the things I most loved because they triggered migraine attacks. My goal became getting through a day of work, returning home and lying in a dark room with a series of ice packs under my neck.

Anxiety about being stigmatized and the intolerance I perceived in some colleagues at work prevented me from admitting I was in pain. Instead, I worked like a Trojan to ensure I maintained a high level of performance and no one could accuse me of using pain as an excuse to under-perform.  

While on the endless merry-go-round of seeking solutions, I ended up at the Michael J. Cousins Pain Management and Research Centre in Sydney. Dr. Cousins and a team of health professionals assessed me. They diagnosed occipital neuralgia, a form of headache that can activate migraine attacks. I had chronic pain, a malfunction in the way the nervous system processes pain signals.

The team suggested an experimental treatment. It involved implanting tiny electrodes into the back of my head and neck to block the pain signals from traveling along the nerves in my head. I agreed to the surgery and afterwards; I had fewer migraine attacks than previously. I even had a few completely pain-free days.

One year later, I felt something sharp sticking out from the base of my skull. My pain specialist discovered an electrode wire protruding through the skin. Tests revealed the electrodes were infected, so they were removed. Afterwards, migraine attacks returned in full force.

Three months later, new electrodes were implanted, but they didn’t work as well, possibly because scar tissue blocked transmission of the electric current. Still, overall I was better than before the initial surgery. I worked full time and sang in a choir at Sydney Opera House.

Disappointingly, disaster struck in 2008. A superbug infected the electrodes, forcing my doctor to remove them. Once the infection cleared and the electrodes were re-implanted, they were only partially successful, and my life returned to its pre-electrode state.

Multidisciplinary Pain Management

A significant turning point occurred in 2009 when I participated in a three-week multidisciplinary pain management program. Each day, a team of pain specialists gave lectures on topics such as chronic pain and how it differs from acute pain. The physiotherapists started us on a carefully graded exercise program, and a psychologist taught us cognitive behavioural therapy techniques to help us change the way we thought about and dealt with pain. Surprisingly, the exercises didn’t cause a flare-up and at last I felt as if I was making progress.

The pain management program taught me to stop catastrophizing and to believe I had the power to change how I reacted to pain. For years, I practiced the stretches and strengthening exercises every night after work. I also applied the psychological techniques, and they became central to my daily routine.

Twelve years later, I continue to live with migraine. I’ve tried several migraine preventatives, but none helped. Eight months ago, I started taking medicinal cannabis and it has significantly reduced the frequency and severity of migraine attacks.

Over the years I’ve learned to reduce the impact of migraine on my life by using techniques such as mindfulness meditation and carefully paced exercise that turn down the volume of pain signals racing through my malfunctioning nervous system.

Chronic pain is complex and difficult to treat but it is possible to live well with pain. I encourage you to do a multidisciplinary pain management program and continue your search for approaches that reduce the impact of pain on your life.  

Gabriella Kelly-Davies is a biographer and studied biography writing at the University of Oxford, Australian National University and Sydney University. She recently authored “Breaking Through the Pain Barrier,” a biography of trailblazing Australian pain specialist Dr. Michael Cousins. Gabriella is President of Life Stories Australia Association and founder of Share your life story.

The Fentanyl Exposure Myth Must End

By Roger Chriss, PNN Columnist

There is a pervasive belief that exposure to even a speck of illicit fentanyl can be immediately life-threatening. The most recent example is a story from USA Today.

“Dramatic body camera footage shows that a sheriff’s deputy in California nearly died after being exposed to fentanyl at an arrest last month,” the story begins, explaining that Deputy David Faiivae collapsed after finding a “white substance” in the trunk of a suspect’s car on July 3.

Faiivae appears to be revived by his training officer with a nasal spray of naloxone, an anti-overdose medication. The body camera video of the incident was so dramatic, the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department turned it into a training video:

There are reasons to be cautious with stories like this. Fentanyl is a potent synthetic opioid responsible for tens of thousands of overdose deaths, but experts say it’s not nearly as dangerous as it is often portrayed.

"You can't just touch fentanyl and overdose," Ryan Marino, medical director for toxicology and addiction at University Hospitals in Cleveland told NBC News. "It doesn't just get into the air and make people overdose.

"We have a lot of scientific evidence and a good knowledge of chemical laws and the way that these drugs work that says this is impossible."

Casual contact with fentanyl is not generally life-threatening. As Marino explains in a guide for first responders, fentanyl powder is not absorbed through the skin and powdered opioids do not aerosolize.

This is a well-founded view. Drs. Lewis Nelson and Jeanmarie Perrone wrote in STAT News that “there is clear evidence that passive exposure to fentanyl does not result in clinical toxicity.”

But stories of passive exposure to fentanyl being life-threatening are becoming more common. Google Trends shows a rapid uptick from 2017 onward after media coverage of an Ohio patrol officer supposedly overdosing on fentanyl after brushing a bit of powder from his shirt.

According to a 2020 study in the International Journal of Drug Policy, there were 551 news articles in 48 states about casual contact with fentanyl from 2015 to 2019. The reports received about 450,000 Facebook shares, potentially reaching nearly 70 million people.

“Fueled by misinformation, fentanyl panic has harmed public health through complicating overdose rescue while rationalizing hyper-punitive criminal laws, wasteful expenditures, and proposals to curtail vital access to pain pharmacotherapy,” the study found.

If passive exposure to fentanyl were as risky as media and law enforcement suggest, wouldn’t there be a flood of bodies from illicit drug operations? Drug labs do not operate with robust safety measures and street dealers handle drugs in ways that would make passive exposure inevitable. Deaths result when fentanyl is ingested, not from casual contact.

The misperceptions of passive exposure risks are impacting law enforcement, emergency services and medical care. As a result, pharmacy professor Lucas Hill joined with Marino and others to write an open letter this week to media outlets called “Retraction Request for Dangerous Drug Misinformation.”

“We are issuing this letter to request a retraction and correction of your recent article which perpetuates a myth: that casual contact with potent synthetic opioids such as fentanyl poses a health risk to first responders. This is dangerous misinformation that can cause harm both to people who use opioids and to members of the law enforcement community. We greatly appreciate your cooperation in addressing this error.”

The letter is the latest attempt to reduce the harms of media misinformation about drugs. But as with so many things involving drugs, mythology drives too much of the media and law enforcement narrative.

Roger Chriss lives with Ehlers Danlos syndrome and is a proud member of the Ehlers-Danlos Society. Roger is a technical consultant in Washington state, where he specializes in mathematics and research.   

The Ever Changing Rules of CRPS

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

Two weeks ago, writhing at a level 10 pain, struggling to position my heating pad just right for a moment of relief, I told God that if it was time to take me, that was okay.

I thought I knew the rules of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. After nearly four decades of trying to sidestep the burning torture, making every attempt to not poke the bear, I was confident I’d cracked the code enough to ward off any long-term flare. The kind that makes you think about dying.

But a shot of emotionally heightened experience, a jigger of COVID vaccine, and a splash of post-chemo recovery combined to turn the rules on their head. I think.

No question, I needed to see my mom. Due to my bout with aggressive breast cancer, a once-in-a-century pandemic, toxic family members and my mom’s advanced Alzheimer’s, I hadn’t seen her in a year and a half. When COVID loosened and I discovered she’d been placed in a nursing facility, a window of opportunity opened for a possible visit without seeing family members that harm and hurt.

The heavens opened and I got to spend a glorious day with an angel disguised as my mom.

But before that, wheeling up to the facility, my profound dread leapt to the nth degree, fearful that I might be facing a firing squad made up of familial cruelty. That, along with the emotional elation of time together with Mom – loving each other through her scattered cognition – sent waves of arousal through my nervous system, sparking over-the-moon pain as my partner, John, and I made our six-hour return trek to LA.

Over the next days, then weeks, as my pain maintained its grip, I knew in my gut this flare was something altogether new and terrible. But why? As I learned long COVID was inciting cytokine storms of pain and fatigue, and that many of my vaccinated sisters in pain were experiencing epic flares, I postulated that the vaccine (which had already re-erupted chemo side-effects) was probably the secret sauce for my exquisite agony. 

Without a doubt, this is the worst CRPS flare I’ve had in 35 years – and that one from the Reagan 80’s left me using a wheelchair to this day. Imagine my fear of what I might lose this go around. I’ll tell you, it’s soul-shaking.

In the past when I’ve experienced bad flares, my doctors have encouraged me to temporarily go up on gabapentin (Neurontin), a nerve medication I’ve taken for many years with good results. Because I despise taking drugs and never trust the “temporary” part, I’ve always resisted increasing the dose. That is, until now. Truth be told, a month into this flare, it took only a nudge from my doctor to increase my daily gabapentin in-take by 300mgs.

What a mistake. Fair to say, while the increase lowered my pain level by about three points, a HUGE improvement, the side effects were scorched-earth. I was wiped out to the point of being barely functional. This “never-a-napper” was falling asleep mid-day and I would wake with dementia-level disorientation. John had to remind me what day it was, where I lived, and what was happening in our lives.

I also suffered with suicidal ideation, compulsive thoughts, depression, joint pain, constipation, blurry vision and spatial difficulties. I’d traded one hell for another.

On the fourth night, I turned in bed and woke to the room (or was it my head?) spinning. The vertigo alerted me to the fact that if I continued this drug increase, I’d likely fall – and that could be catastrophic.

The next morning, with my doctor’s consent, I went off the extra gabapentin and, in its place, started Alpha Lipoic Acid. I took this supplement during chemo to ward off neuropathy, and it did the trick without side effects. Okay, to be fair, I wasn’t aware that it made my urine smell like burning tires as the chemo drugs masked that little nugget. Sorry, John.

That night, I experienced my worst pain ever, but, again, why? Even more confusing, I woke with honest-to-goodness relief, the last thing I expected. In fact, for the first time in weeks, I didn’t describe my morning swim as torture. As of this writing, the relief is holding, though threatening to return to the “I’m ready to die” level. But now, I have a taste of hope.

Still, I’m exhausted, scared and confused.

This is the essence of CRPS. It can come and go with little apparent cause. It can hide and seek, and its rules of engagement are ever shifting, ever evolving. It’s a devil that pokes its white-hot pitchfork of torture whenever, wherever it feels the urge. It’s crazy-making.

For all this madness, for all the uncertainty about my hell flare, these things I know for sure.

I did the right thing by getting the vaccine. COVID, or one of its variants, would (still might) kill me. I’m also doing my part to end this pandemic.

Chemo saved my life. While I’m betting it’s playing a hand in my current suffering, and will most likely present unknown damage down the line, I would not be alive without it.  

I was right to see my beautiful mother. I don’t know how much time either of us has, as I’m still a few years from “free-and-clear.” For my remaining days, I’ll always recall her reaction upon recognizing me, crying out my name and holding me so very tight. As my wonderful friend, Irene, reminds me, Mom and I have an epic love.  

Mom taught me to love myself, too. And I do. Completely. That love extends unconditionally to my CRPS, as it’s a part of me as much as anything is.

39 years into my dance with this mercurial disease, I doubt I’ll ever get ahead of it as its mystery and misery run too deep. Still, I can love it completely without complete understanding.

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 20 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 Overdose Crisis Is Misunderstood

By Roger Chriss, PNN Columnist

As U.S. opioid lawsuits wind down with multi billion dollar settlements, there are increasing calls for more measures to address the overdose crisis. The calls range from further tightening opioid prescribing practices to legalizing cannabis and other drugs, all in the hope of stemming the rising tide of addiction and overdoses.

The standard view of the crisis is of a simple system, described in mechanistic terms like supply and demand or “stock and flow.” There are a handful of policy levers, and pulling on a lever will hopefully create a proportional change in the crisis.

Obviously, this approach hasn’t worked. The U.S. has reduced opioid prescribing by over 40% and seen no improvements in overdoses. By contrast, Germany is the world’s second-largest user of prescription opioids and does not have an opioid crisis.

Many U.S. states have legalized cannabis, in part as a solution to the crisis. But in the wake of cannabis legalization there are even more overdose fatalities, to such an extent that cannabis is now viewed as possibly making the opioid crisis worse.

There are also claims that prohibition is the problem and that full drug legalization is the remedy. But the legal status of tobacco and alcohol can hardly be called a public health success.

Drug abuse does not occur in a social or technological vacuum. The development of the hypodermic syringe helped morphine and heroin become street drugs, the cigarette rolling machine enabled the modern tobacco disaster, and the advent of the vape pen and synthetic cannabinoids is causing new public health problems.

The Crisis Is Not an Epidemic

All of this suggests that the current understanding of the overdose crisis is mistaken. We’ve been treating the crisis as if it were an “epidemic” caused by a single pathogen, spread through one form of transmission, and treatable with one intervention. But the overdose crisis is not an epidemic in the strict sense of the word.

Instead, it is better to think of the world of drugs as resembling a tropical country with an abundance of parasites and pathogens. Such a country is beset with viral, bacterial and fungal threats coming from a vast variety of sources. With each season the threats shift, and over the years the threats change. But they are always there, and must always be addressed.

In such a country there is no one policy lever or regulatory dial that will control outcomes. Such a country is a highly complex nonlinear dynamical landscape that is very sensitive to small changes in fundamentally unpredictable ways. Moreover, the landscape will offer up novel threats and surprises far more frequently and less predictably than intuition would suggest.

As a result, even a small change in policy can easily have unexpected effects downstream, often unintended and maybe even tragic. For instance, public health policy meant to reign in prescribing for chronic pain has impacted cancer and palliative care. And tapering patients has resulted in more mental health crises and overdoses.

This conceptual difference means that simple solutions like fentanyl test strips or urine drug testing will not end the crisis. They may help on the margins, but to expect more is to misunderstand the nature of the crisis. And even if a bold stroke does help, it only does so briefly. And then the landscape offers new challenges that must be spotted swiftly and addressed adroitly.

The world of drugs can only be managed through comprehensive efforts at prevention, monitoring and treatment with support from local communities and society at large. Countries without an overdose crisis are notable not only for doing many things the U.S. does not, but also for pursuing their efforts consistently year after year.

The overdose crisis will keep evolving as more drugs are developed and delivered to an ever-changing world of drug use. Neither lawsuits nor legalization address the core of the crisis. In the U.S. there are too many charismatic crusaders brandishing simple solutions. But in public health there are very few heroes who understand the complex nature of the problem.

Roger Chriss lives with Ehlers Danlos syndrome and is a proud member of the Ehlers-Danlos Society. Roger is a technical consultant in Washington state, where he specializes in mathematics and research.   

Mission Creep and the CDC Opioid Guideline

By Roger Chriss, PNN Editor

It’s been over five years since the CDC released its opioid prescribing guideline for chronic pain. Now that the agency is looking at possible revisions, it’s worth taking a close look at what research is showing about the effects of the guideline.

First, let’s revisit the goals of the 2016 guideline:

“This guideline provides recommendations for primary care clinicians who are prescribing opioids for chronic pain outside of active cancer treatment, palliative care, and end-of-life care.

This guideline is intended to improve communication between clinicians and patients about the risks and benefits of opioid therapy for chronic pain, improve the safety and effectiveness of pain treatment, and reduce the risks associated with long-term opioid therapy, including opioid use disorder, overdose, and death.”

That’s not what has happened in practice. Instead, the CDC guideline has impacted pain management in both cancer and palliative settings, and has impeded access to care for people with chronic painful disorders.

Cancer and Palliative Care

Several major studies have appeared this year on the effects of the CDC guideline, all finding substantial and unexpected impacts on cancer and palliative care.

An Oregon State University study of over 2,600 hospital patients discharged to hospice care showed a decrease in opioid prescribing and an increase in the use of less powerful, non-opioid analgesics. As result, “some of those patients might have been undertreated for their pain compared to similar patients in prior years.”

Similarly, a study in The Oncologist looked at cancer patients with bone metastasis, and found that opioid prescribing fell significantly between 2011 and 2017. Researchers said their findings “raise concerns about potential unintended consequences related to population-level reduction in opioid prescribing.”

And a study in the journal Cancer found that in interviews with 26 patients with advanced cancer, the majority “experienced stigma about their opioid use for cancer pain management.” Patients also reported difficulties with pharmacies and insurance coverage of opioids.

Chronic Noncancer Pain Care

In chronic noncancer pain management, the CDC guideline has had mixed effects. A recent study in JAMA Network Open concluded that guideline-based opioid prescribing “has potential to improve pain management and reduce opioid-related harms,” but never addressed whether patients thought their pain care actually improved or was even adequate.  

The guideline has also had a chilling effect on some providers. A 2019 study in JAMA Network Open found that over 40% of primary care clinics in Michigan would not accept new patients being treated with opioids due to “decreased social desirability bias.”

The American Medical Association recently reported that many pharmacists have refused to fill legitimate opioid prescriptions, with some patients being told that they were not really in pain and others being subjected to “humiliating accusations that they were drug seekers.”

The AMA shared the experience of one doctor who came back from vacation to learn that he had been blacklisted by a major pharmacy chain that would no longer fill his prescriptions for controlled substances.

“When the CDC guidelines came down in 2016 basically saying we needed to take as many people as we could off opioids, I knew that my patients were in for a world of trouble,” said Aaron Newcomb, DO. “I was particularly concerned about my patients who were stable on low-dose opioid therapy for years. And my concerns have translated into an even worse reality for both me and my patients. Getting blacklisted by a national chain who had no clue about my practice was professionally wrong, but it also hurt my patients and my community.”

The goals of the CDC guideline were laudable. Improving patient outcomes and reducing public health risks are vital to the wellbeing of society. But at least so far, it’s hard to see the CDC guideline as having achieved any of its stated goals. Instead, we have guideline creep and a worsening overdose crisis.

The CDC alone should not be blamed for this outcome. States implemented laws and regulations, in some cases before the guideline was even released, that have contributed to these unfortunate shifts in clinical outcomes. The CDC even warned about misapplication of its guideline, though to little apparent effect.

There is clearly a lot of guideline creep at work. The impacts of the CDC guideline reach far beyond the use of opioids for chronic noncancer pain and are affecting patients in unintended ways, including those suffering from cancer and terminal illnesses or recovering from surgery. Patients and providers are hopeful the upcoming revision of the guideline will address these outcomes and improve pain care.

Roger Chriss lives with Ehlers Danlos syndrome and is a proud member of the Ehlers-Danlos Society. Roger is a technical consultant in Washington state, where he specializes in mathematics and research.  

Rare Disease Spotlight: Transverse Myelitis

By Barby Ingle, PNN Columnist  

This month as part of my series on rare diseases and conditions, we’ll look at transverse myelitis (TM), an inflammatory disease of the spinal cord. TM causes pain, muscle weakness, numbness, tingling, and bladder and bowel dysfunction. Severe cases can even result in sudden paralysis. 

Can you imagine being fine one minute and the next being paralyzed and losing control of your bowels?

The most famous person I have heard of having transverse myelitis is Allen Rucker, an author and comedy writer who developed TM spontaneously at the age of 51. Rucker wrote a memoir about becoming paralyzed due to TM: “The Best Seat in the House: How I Woke Up One Tuesday and Was Paralyzed for Life.”

As with many TM patients, Rucker was paralyzed from the waist down and has no control over his legs, bladder or bowel. He will need a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Despite these challenging conditions, Rucker continues to write and uses his communication skills to help others understand what it is like to live with a rare disease.

Transverse myelitis can occur at any age, but most often affects patients between the ages of 10-19 and 30-39. Some people do recover from TM, but the process can take months or even years. Most see improvement in their condition within the first 3 months after the initial attack, giving them a good idea of what they will face long-term.

There are many different causes of transverse myelitis, including viral, bacterial or fungal infections that attack the spinal cord. The inflammatory attack usually appears after recovery from an infection, such as chickenpox, herpes or shingles. TM can also be caused by immune system problems or myelin disorders, such as multiple sclerosis.

Patients who develop transverse myelitis can go through many treatments, including intravenous steroids for days to weeks at a time, plasma exchange therapy, antiviral medication, pain relievers, and drugs used to treat complications. There are some preventative medications to help keep inflammation down, avoid new flares and long-term complications.  

A patient can expect to undergo multiple MRIs of the spine as well as blood testing and possibly a spinal tap to check cerebrospinal fluid. They may also be started on physical therapy, occupational therapy and psychotherapy.

It can be difficult to know the course an individual with TM might take, but they fall into three areas: no or slight disability, moderate disability and severe disability.  The sooner that proper treatments begin for TM, the better the outcomes can be.

If you suspect you might have TM, keep track of when the symptoms started, what they are and how fast they progressed. Note if they presented through pain, tingling or other unusual sensations such as loss of bladder and bowel control or difficulty breathing. A provider will also want to know if you have recently traveled or had any infections or vaccinations.

If you are diagnosed with transverse myelitis, you can find support at the Siegel Rare Neuroimmune Association, a non-profit that advocates for people with TM and other neuroimmune disorders. They are a great resource for those who need assistance for research and daily living. Facebook also has several TM support groups, such as Transverse Myelitis Folks and Transverse Myelitis Society.

We are now halfway through our series on rare diseases and conditions. So far, I have covered transverse myelitis, Paget’s disease, Alexander disease, X-linked Hypophosphatemia, cauda equina syndrome, vulvodynia and Dupuytren's contracture. Next month I will look at Friedreich’s Ataxia.

Barby Ingle lives with reflex sympathetic dystrophy (RSD), migralepsy and endometriosis. Barby is a chronic pain educator, patient advocate, and president of the International Pain Foundation. She is also a motivational speaker and best-selling author on pain topics. More information about Barby can be found at her website.

Being Judged for My Invisible Disability

By Victoria Reed, PNN Columnist

One of the things that irritate me is when people have complete disregard for disability parking spaces and park in them without a permit.

Recently, my family and I traveled to another state for a wedding. While we were there, we decided to check out a popular outdoor tourist attraction. Being that it was a weekend, the attraction was quite crowded. As we entered the parking lot, it was clear that we would either need to wait for a parking space or leave altogether. We decided to take our chances and wait.

Then I noticed a car parked in one of the disability spaces without the required permit. While the car had been ticketed by the National Park Service, I was a little annoyed because I have a disability placard (prescribed by a rheumatologist), and we could have parked in that space. Or someone else who is disabled could have.

My disability placard has been invaluable to me over the years, as I suffer from at least two of the “invisible” illnesses—rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia. On days when my RA or fibromyalgia is at its worst, I utilize the placard and park in a space that would help minimize my walking distance. Sometimes both conditions work in-tandem to make my life miserable, causing joint pain and muscle pain/weakness.

I know I may not look disabled on some days. I try to put myself together before going out (no offense to those who are unable to), and I don’t use a wheelchair, scooter, cane or walker on a regular basis. I have used wheelchairs and electric scooters in the past while attending sprawling places like Universal Studios, zoos or other venues with my kids or where there would be significant walking involved.

Because I often don’t appear like a person who is disabled, I have received the “looks” from people when exiting my car after parking in a disabled parking space. I’ve also gotten nasty stares when I pull in and don’t hang my disability parking tag right away.

I wish that people would not be so judgmental, but sadly, some are! You never know what a person might be struggling with that’s not readily apparent. I always try to keep that in mind. If a person doesn’t use assistive devices, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they are not needed or mean that a person is completely well. 

Not only is the pain of RA and fibromyalgia a significant issue for me, so is the profound fatigue that accompanies both of these conditions. Some days, even if I’m not having active joint or muscle pain, the fatigue can be nearly incapacitating and make walking (or doing just about anything) difficult. In addition, the fatigue causes shortness of breath. People can’t usually see that.

Another thing that I’ve noticed in this Covid era is the decrease in disability parking spaces as retailers reassign those spaces for drive-up purchase pickup. I don’t have a problem with the drive-up spaces, as I often use them myself on more difficult days, but it’s a little concerning when disability parking spaces are reduced in favor of those. On better days, I like to park and go into stores because moving my body is good for me, regardless of the pain and/or fatigue I might be experiencing that day.

Hopefully, if Covid-19 ever completely goes away, retailers will add back those disability parking spaces that they took. We need those spaces!

It’s possible that someday I might need the regular use of a cane, walker or wheelchair, but until then, having an invisible illness and parking in a disability space will probably get more negative attention than it should. Yes, it bothers me when people judge me and assume that I don’t have a disability, but I will continue to keep my head up and go about my business.

As a chronic pain patient, I’ve learned to be tough, and I’ve had to develop a thick skin about be judged. Their problem is not my problem. However, my problem could someday become their problem! We are all just one accident, injury or illness away from possible disability. 

As for a parking space at that tourist attraction, we got one after about a 10 minute wait. I can’t complain too much about that!

Victoria Reed lives in Cleveland, Ohio. She suffers from endometriosis, fibromyalgia, degenerative disc disease and rheumatoid arthritis.