CRPS Is a Bad Name for a Painful Disease

By Dr. Forest Tennant, PNN Columnist

A few years ago, the “pain powers” of the day decided to change the name of a mysterious painful disease called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). 

Not long after the name change, I received a telephone call from a reporter who mistakenly believed that “CRPS” meant that chronic pain statistics were now going to be kept by geographical regions.  He wanted to know which regions had the least and worst pain problems.  He sounded rather despondent when I informed him the regions weren’t geographic areas, but referred to parts of the body. 

After a sigh and pause, he asked how many regions there were and where they were located on the body.  I finally had to admit that although I was familiar with legs, arms, buttocks and ears, I hadn’t been able to come to grips with exactly what the body’s regions were or where they were located, as they weren’t mentioned in Gray’s Anatomy.  The reporter apologized for bothering me and said he thought he would focus on prostate issues instead.

Not long after I disappointed the reporter, I attempted to obtain a prior authorization to pay for CRPS medications from a patient’s insurance company.  I had mistakenly assumed that the label CRPS had reached the bowels of the insurance industry, but a grouchy lady on the phone informed me that her insurance company didn’t recognize regional pain and only paid for legitimate painful diseases.  Furthermore, she questioned my ability and sanity, accusing me of creating a fraudulent diagnosis.  At this point, I rightfully decided the CRPS label may have problems!

These episodes underline the point that lots of people with CRPS are being poorly treated due to a name that doesn’t even sound like a legitimate disease or disorder. Their very real illness goes unrecognized and payment for treatment is often denied by their insurance.  At best, the CRPS label trivializes a condition that can be so severe as to force a person into bed, endure great suffering, and die before their time. 

The history of the name CRPS is most telling.  A British surgeon named Alexander Denmark wrote the first known description of a disease like CRPS in about 1812.  He described a soldier injured by a bullet this way:

“I always found him with the forearm bent and in supine position and supported by the firm grasp of the other hand. The pain was of a burning nature, and so violent as to cause a continual perspiration from his face.” 

Another physician who was working with wounded Civil War soldiers, Dr. Silas Weir Mitchell, published his findings in a 1864 monograph entitled “Gunshot Wounds and Other Injuries.” Mitchell described the basic injury as burning pain located in close proximity to the battle wound.  He also described the well-known characteristics of the disorder, including glossy red or mottled skin without hair, atrophic tissue, and severe pain caused by touch or movement. 

In his 1872 book, “Injuries of Nerves and Their Consequences,” Mitchell coined the term “causalgia” which he derived from the ancient Greek words kauaoc (heat) and oayoc (pain) to emphasize the nature of the disorder.

The term causalgia remained in place until about 1946, when Dr. James Evans, a physician at the Lahey Clinic in Burlington, Massachusetts, described 57 patients with injuries similar to those labeled causalgia by Dr. Mitchell.  Evans described his patients as having intense pain and clinical signs that he explained as being due to “sympathetic stimulation.” The patients experienced rubor (redness), pallor, and a mixture of both sweating and atrophy.

This syndrome would appear after fractures, sprains, vascular complications, amputations, arthritis, lacerations, or even minor injuries.  Evans found that sympathetic nerve blocks usually relieved the pain, so he rejected the term causalgia and gave it the name Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD).

The name RSD pretty well replaced causalgia until 1994, when the International Association for the Study of Pain (IASP) changed it to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS).  This change was led by the renowned pain specialist John Bonica, MD, who wanted to shift the focus away from the terms dystrophy, reflex and sympathetic back to pain. 

This argument for the change had validity, in that the condition doesn’t really have a reflex component and sympathetic blockades do not consistently relieve pain.  Also, dystrophy is medically defined as tissue degeneration, such as that caused by diseases of nutrition or metabolism. The IASP wanted the primary focus to be on pain.

Unintended Consequences

While the name changes from causalgia to RSD to CRPS were intended to bring better pain relief to needy patients, there have been several unintended consequences.  In fact, a reasonable argument can be made that the name change has been counterproductive. 

What should CRPS now be called?  It’s doubtful that a new consensus could be quickly developed, as the syndrome is complex and involves multiple issues. 

Frankly, I personally believe we should junk the term CRPS. It trivializes a most serious disorder, and I have found use of the name CRPS actually deprives some patients of the treatment they need.  I have often simply used the term “vascular neuropathy” to effectively educate pharmacies, families, insurance companies and patients about the condition.  At least this term sounds legitimate and serious!

Fortunately, regardless of its name, the syndrome appears to be diminishing both in incidence and severity.  Workplace injuries and vehicular accidents get immediate attention these days, while early medical and physical interventions usually prevent great severity. 

Also, there is now an understanding of centralized pain and its electrical discharges, which are greatly responsible for the so-called “sympathetic” symptoms of the disorder.  Treatments for centralized pain are clearly benefitting persons with this unfortunate disorder, regardless of whatever name you wish to call it.  I would call for a name change but I don’t know who to call!

Forest Tennant, MD, DrPH, is retired from clinical practice but continues his research on the treatment of intractable pain and arachnoiditis through the Tennant Foundation’s Arachnoiditis Research and Education Project and the Intractable Pain Syndrome Research and Education Project.

The Tennant Foundation gives financial support to Pain News Network and sponsors PNN’s Patient Resources section.   

A Pained Life: We’re Not ‘Normal’ So Don't Expect Us To Be

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

I recently contacted a local social service agency for help. They sent a social worker and wonderful lady, Margaret, to come to my home.

The first thing she did was a “depression inventory,” a questionnaire required by the service. The questions were pro forma, and if I was a “normal person” were probably an appropriate way to see if I was suffering from depression. For someone in chronic pain, not so much.

Margaret asked me, “Are you basically satisfied with your life?”

The choices were “Yes” or “No.” The questionnaire allowed for no other answer.

No, I am not satisfied with my life. I am mostly housebound, due to trigeminal neuralgia pain and the fear of triggering more pain if I go out. My reasons for being dissatisfied with my life are legitimate. It is not a sign of depression, but of my reality.

“Have you dropped many of your activities and interests?” Margaret asked. Yes, if you mean since the pain started 40 years ago. If you mean more recently, then the answer is no.

“Do you often get bored?” Of course, I do. I am home most of the time. My eye pain interferes with reading, writing or even watching a movie if there is a lot of movement on the screen. I spend a lot of time with the TV on, as background noise, and sitting in a chair or bed waiting for the hour hand to move so the day is closer to its end.

That sounds like depression. But for me, it's not. It's merely my life.

“Were my spirits good?” Easy answer. See the above.

My neurosurgeon told me there are no more treatments or surgical possibilities for me. They all have unknown risks and it’s not certain they would help. So, when I was asked, “Do you feel helpless?” and “Do you feel hopeless?'” my answer was yes to both questions. Because my situation is hopeless and helpless. The medical profession has told me so.

Margaret’s next question; “Do you prefer to stay at home rather than go out and do new things?” could have been two questions for me: "Do you prefer to stay at home?' No, I don't. "Would you prefer to be able to go out and do new things?" Yes, I would, but the pain won't let me.. 

“Do you think most people are better off than you?” was the last question. And the hardest for me to answer. In one sense, yes, because most people don't have chronic pain and they're not housebound. But I am in good shape physically, absent the eye and face pain, and my brain and mind work well. I am independent. So no, they are not better off than me. 

It all depends on the slant of the questions and the slant of the answers. 

Most of Margaret’s questions are not intended for people in pain. I don't expect them to make ones specific for the pain community and I'm not sure, given the spectrum of chronic pain and disability, if that is even feasible.  

We need to be seen for what we are. We are not “normal,” so please stop expecting that of us. 

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.

Raising Lazarus: Another Take on the Opioid Crisis

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Beth Macy’s bestselling book “Dopesick” – and the Hulu series based on it -- helped shape the popular narrative on the origins of the opioid crisis: that Purdue Pharma and the Sackler family duped physicians into prescribing highly addictive OxyContin to millions of pain patients, setting off a public health and overdose crisis that continues to this day.

Macy’s new book “Raising Lazarus” focuses on many of the same themes, but with an important new addition. She recognizes that opioid hysteria and fear of addiction went too far, depriving many people in pain of the medications they need to lead functional and productive lives.

“In recent years, law enforcement agencies, the CDC, and other medical authorities had overreacted to the first wave of the opioid crisis by clamping down too hard on opioid-prescribing,” Macy wrote. “Some doctors responded to the revised 2016 CDC opioid-prescribing guideline – and their fear of DEA prosecution – by declaring draconian caps and essentially abandoning their patients.

“People who needed opioids were refused access. Others with decades-long chronic conditions like extreme rheumatoid arthritis were abandoned by doctors and were now left bedbound. Some who were denied the opioids they’d been taking for decades attempted suicide or resorted to illegal drugs.”  

Those are welcome words from a noted critic of opioid “overprescribing.” But that passage – which is buried halfway through a 373-page book – doesn’t represent what Raising Lazarus is all about. Macy’s new book primarily deals with Purdue’s corporate greed and the ongoing struggles of working-class people in Appalachia to overcome addiction and a healthcare system that simply doesn’t work for them.

Macy is a bit defensive and resorts to gaslighting when she acknowledges past criticism from pain patients for Dopesick “drawing too much attention to overprescribed opioid pills.” Many of their complaints are valid, she admits, “if sometimes over-the-top and oblivious to the root causes of the crisis.”

Interestingly, Macy never actually quotes one of those “over-the-top” pain patients in Raising Lazarus, but she did interview Stanford pain psychologist Dr. Beth Darnall about the reluctance of doctors to prescribe opioids.

“Doctors are so concerned about being flagged, concerned about their license and their livelihood, they don’t want to take (chronic pain patients) on, and so you end up with patient abandonment, and iatrogenic harms that can create a medically dangerous situation,” Darnall told Macy.    

‘The Cruel World of Purdue Pharma’

Greed, no doubt, is one of the primary causes of the opioid crisis and Macy describes in detail how the Sacklers manipulated the political and legal system, paying their chief counsel the handsome rate of $1,790 an hour to gum things up as best he could to preserve the family fortune and prevent them from going to prison.

But she gives a free pass to others who have profited from the opioid crisis, often at the expense of pain patients, most notably the private plaintiff law firms suing drug makers on behalf of cities, counties and states.

Macy credits the late attorney Paul Hanly as being “the first to crack open the cruel world of Purdue Pharma” without pointing out that his law firm, Simmons Hanly Conroy, boasts that it “effectively invented large-scale, multi-defendant opioid litigation” and stands to make billions of dollars in contingency fees from settlement money.  

Also unmentioned is the $400,000 in campaign donations given by Simmons Hanly Conroy to former Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-MO) in 2018, who conveniently produced a well-publicized report that year critical of drug makers and medical pain societies that the law firm was suing. Overwhelmed with legal fees defending themselves, two of those pain societies filed for bankruptcy, a loss that pain management specialists, researchers and patients could ill afford.

Macy does quote anti-opioid activists like Dr. Andrew Kolodny and Dr. Anna Lembke, but doesn’t mention that they testified as paid expert witnesses for Hanly and other plaintiff law firms, making well into six figures for their testimony, which they often failed to disclose in conflict of interest statements.  

“The opioid-litigation money is a once-in-a-generation opportunity,” Macy writes, with unintended irony.

Macy is hopeful the settlement money – once estimated at $50 billion -- will go towards addiction treatment and better healthcare for communities ravaged by the opioid crisis. Unfortunately, much of it has already been spent on legal fees, media and public relations campaigns, and political donations. That’s not counting shady industries that have grown and prospered due to the opioid crisis; from drug testing and stem cell providers to cannabis promoters and drug cartels.  

Even though fentanyl and other street drugs are responsible for the vast majority of overdoses, Macy still clings to the tired notion that opioid pain medication started it all.

“A quarter century into the crisis, many people with OUD (opioid use disorder) have long since transitioned from painkillers to heroin, methamphetamine, and fentanyl, the ultra-potent synthetic opioid. And we now have a generation of drug users that started with heroin and fentanyl,” she writes. “Death by drugs is now a national problem, but the crisis began as an epidemic of overprescribed painkillers in the distressed communities that were least likely to muster the resources to fight back.”

I look forward to Macy’s next book and hope that she hears more from the distressed community of pain patients. They need a champion to fight for them too, not more gaslighting.

'Bend or Break' Raises Awareness About Invisible Illness

By Madora Pennington, PNN Columnist

Even though he was just a kid, people called Mitch Martow lazy. Too exhausted to maintain friendships and falling asleep in school, his classmates thought he was strange. Specialists couldn’t find a medical reason for his complaints, and psychiatrists had no answers either. Even morphine didn’t ease the pain that tortured him in his early teens.

One day, worn out from physical suffering that was compounded by so many doctors saying his pain was a mental issue, Mitch attempted suicide. He cried when he awoke in the ICU because he had not succeeded.

This is the story told in the documentary “Bend or Break.” Based mainly on Mitch’s blog posts, the film features interviews with Mitch and his family about how his mysterious illness turned their lives upside down and how a correct diagnosis changed all of that.

Mitch has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), a term for a number of similar, poorly understood disorders where the body fails to make stable collagen. As a result, the person has extreme flexibility, to the extent that their joints can bend backward.

With no obvious outward signs, many of us with EDS go decades without a diagnosis, despite frequently seeking care for its debilitating and perplexing symptoms.

MITCH MARTOW

When he was finally diagnosed correctly, Mitch’s family was troubled because EDS is under-researched and lacks effective treatments. For Mitch, his diagnosis made him happy: he was not crazy and could find others like him, which meant everything. It was the end of isolation.

To tell the story, Bend or Break showcases a young contortionist and dancer, Toria Summerville. Toria also has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so she is capable of astounding feats of flexibility. Interspersed with the interview segments are Toria’s beautifully choreographed dances that express the emotionality of the Martow family’s experience.

‘I Felt Very Alone’

Toria was 19 when she participated in the documentary, but her performance has the maturity and depth of someone much older. From childhood, she always knew she was different but didn’t know why. With no understanding of what was wrong, it was up to her to get by and cope with unacknowledged and unaddressed symptoms.

When she was 5 or 6 years old, Toria would be awake all night, crying in pain. Doctors said it was growing pains. When she was in the 6th grade, she was put on medication for anxiety and depression. Doctors assumed she had an eating disorder, but she was allergic to many foods, a common problem with EDS.

“I felt very alone growing up and very confused with myself. I knew something was going on, but I didn’t know what,” Talia says.

She struggled with brain fog and fatigue. Her differences attracted comments from other kids, which felt like bullying. In dance class, others would laugh at her inability to control her superhuman flexibility.

Toria was often getting injured with dislocating joints and easy bruising. Concerned guidance counselors would ask if anyone was abusing her. Well-meaning adults put her in a peer support group, but she could not relate to the other kids. There, therapists offered helpful tools, but they were not what Toria needed, so it felt even more isolating.

At a performing arts high school, Toria found understanding. Her circus coach instinctively understood her and took her under his wing. “We worked on abilities that my body could do,” she says.

For Bend or Break, Toria dedicated herself to understanding and demonstrating what the Martow family experienced, a process that was emotionally challenging, not only because of what Mitch went through but because much of it hit close to home. She walked a fine line.

“I had to be sensitive that it was Mitch’s story, not mine. I had to be in tune with all the milestones he was going through and portray that with my movements and facial expressions,” she explained.

In one sequence, she dances in a straitjacket, an idea she came up with from the feeling of being trapped by so many misdiagnoses herself.

Bend or Break concludes with interviews of others with EDS. Like Mitch, they look perfectly healthy. No one would guess how debilitating their EDS problems are. The documentary drives home the difficulty of having an invisible illness — one not indicated by obvious signs of impairment. People with invisible illnesses and disabilities have a hard time getting believed.

Toria hopes Bend or Break will spread awareness about EDS to the general population and medical professionals in every field. Had she been diagnosed correctly at an earlier age, Toria could have avoided many injuries and gotten better help in school.

“We need to cut back the time to get a diagnosis. My life would have been a lot easier if I had known about EDS sooner,” she says.

Mitch has seen firsthand the positive effects Bend or Break is having. Medical doctors have thanked him for the film because it helped them understand patients with EDS or other invisible illnesses. He’s also spoken to psychology students who have watched the film and is hopeful that when they start working as mental health professionals, they’ll be cautious about insisting that a patient’s chronic pain is psychosomatic.

The film encourages healthcare providers to be careful with diagnoses like "conversion disorder," where a symptom is assumed to be mental because no physical cause can be found. Being treated that way nearly destroyed Mitch’s life. “I tried to use suicide to escape from it,” he says.

Madora Pennington is the author of the blog LessFlexible.com about her life with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. She graduated from UC Berkeley with minors in Journalism and Disability Studies. 

Medical Gaslighting: When Your Doctor Makes You Feel Crazy

By Madora Pennington, PNN Columnist

"Gaslighting" describes the act of deceiving someone to make that person question themselves. It is a toxic interpersonal exchange, an act of psychological abuse that causes the recipient to doubt their own experiences and judgments.

According to sociologists, gaslighters are often insecure, and withhold approval or use hostility to gain the recipient's compliance. The gaslightee is motivated to go along with gaslighting to save the relationship.

This relationship pattern is eerily familiar in the medical exam room. The patient arrives, tells the doctor their symptoms, and expects the doctor to diagnose and treat them. The doctor has the same idea of how their interaction should play out.

“Medical gaslighting” occurs when a healthcare provider dismisses a patient’s symptoms or health concerns. Instead of listening, doing research or referring the patient to a more qualified specialist, the doctor disregards the patient’s issues, blames the patient, or declares the symptoms normal.

The doctor may even diagnose the patient with "conversion disorder" and state in their medical records that the patient’s symptoms are the result of psychological stress or even a personality disorder.

Missed Diagnosis

What happens when the doctor is wrong and a patient is misdiagnosed with conversion disorder?

Kristy Collins knows what that is like. She sought help at multiple facilities for her disabling symptoms, but instead was labeled as having conversion disorder. Kristy had her worst experiences at teaching hospitals.

“It felt like the doctor was in a position as a professor, being looked at by students who expected to have an answer. Not having one, the doctor seemed stumped, even humiliated,” she told me.

That's when the doctor announced that Kristy had a conversion disorder and entered the diagnostic code for it on her medical chart -- essentially a reason to stop treating her. She was soon discharged.

At another office visit, a psychiatrist asked Kristy about her relationship with her father. “I’ve seen a softer side to him because of my medical problems,” Kristy answered. The psychiatrist ran with this, declaring that Kristy yearned for her father’s love.

Kristy and her father were mystified by that because they had always been close. She had no need to invent medical problems to get his attention or to spend time with him. But there was no changing the doctor’s mind.

At one point, Kristy’s father begged her doctors to tell him where they could get her conversion disorder treated. They were willing to pay out-of-pocket for care, if that meant Kristy could get better. The doctors had no place to recommend. They merely insisted she get in an ambulance to go home.

It turned out that Kristy was suffering from undiagnosed and difficult-to-recognize genetic problems. They were the real causes behind her mysterious medical issues. A neurosurgeon at Children’s Hospital of Orange County diagnosed her with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Chiari malformation and hydrocephalus.

Kristy says she is not angry at the medical community, even after all the horrible treatment she'd been through. That’s in part because of the doctor who finally diagnosed her correctly.

“He hugged me and apologized for all of the bad doctors. That allowed me to forgive,” she said.

For Kristy, that appointment was healing.

Madora Pennington is the author of the blog LessFlexible.com about her life with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. She graduated from UC Berkeley with minors in Journalism and Disability Studies. 

Inflation Squeezes Families Dealing With Chronic Illness

By Heidi de Marco, Kaiser Health News  

Deborah Lewis rose from bed before dawn and signed in to her phone so she could begin delivering fast food, coffee and groceries to residents in this western patch of the Mojave Desert where test pilot Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier generations ago.

Lewis prayed she would earn $75, just enough to fill the tank of her Kia sedan so she could drive her 8-year-old daughter, Annabelle, 80 miles south to Los Angeles to receive her weekly chemotherapy treatment for acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Just a year ago, the same tank of gas would have cost $30 less.

After a full shift as a gig worker, the mother had earned close to what she needed. “It took a lot longer than I thought,” she said.

High inflation is hitting families across the nation. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, consumer prices in July were up 8.5% from a year earlier, one of the biggest increases in recent decades. The Bureau of Economic Analysis found that consumers are spending the most on housing and utilities, food, and medical care.

For millions of families living with chronic diseases — such as heart disease, diabetes, and cancer — or other debilitating conditions, inflation is proving a punishing scourge that could be harmful to their health. Unlike dining out less or buying fewer clothes, many patients don’t have a choice when it comes to paying for medicine, medical supplies and other ancillary costs. Some must drive long distances to see a specialist, and others must adhere to a strict diet.

“Chronic disease patients are usually on the front lines of seeing a lack of supplies or an increase in out-of-pocket costs,” said Paul Conway, chair of policy and global affairs for the American Association of Kidney Patients.

Health care has grown increasingly unaffordable. Half of adults report having difficulty paying their health costs, according to KFF polling. One-third say they or a family member has skipped recommended medical treatment in the past year because of the cost, and one-quarter of adults report rationing pills or leaving prescriptions unfilled.

Inflation has squeezed families further by driving up the price of gas and food, as well as medical products such as needles and bed-wetting pads. Health care costs have risen 5.1% since July 2021, and medical commodities — which include prescription and over-the-counter drugs, medical equipment and supplies — are up 3.7%.

Inflation is particularly detrimental to the health of low-income patients; studies have found a strong link between poverty and health. According to the California Budget & Policy Center, more than half of California households making $50,000 or less struggle to pay for food, housing, and medical costs.

For Deborah Lewis and her husband, Spencer, their concerns about the rising cost of gas have never been about skimping on summer travel or weekend getaways. It’s about making sure they have enough gas to drive Annabelle to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles for chemotherapy and other medications delivered through a port in her chest.

The family relies on Spencer’s disability check, which he receives because he has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a hereditary disorder that causes him severe joint pain. He also copes with broken discs in his spine and a cyst pushing against his spinal nerves. In January, he stopped working as a pest control technician, shifting more financial responsibilities to his wife.

The disability check covers rent and utilities, leaving Deborah’s freelance work to cover gas. They also get $500 a month from Miracles for Kids, which helps families with critically ill children.

On a June morning, Deborah packed snacks for the drive ahead as Annabelle, wrapped in her favorite blanket, waited on the couch. Most of her long blond hair has fallen out because of her treatments.

The night before, Deborah spent $73.24 to fill up at Costco. The average price of a gallon of gas in California remains above $5.

Before they left, Deborah learned the couple carried a negative balance in their checking account. “I have so much on my plate,” she said.

The family has already delayed health care for one family member: Their dog, a Doberman pinscher named Chief, skipped a vet visit for a mass pushing up his intestines.

AnNABELLE AND HER MOTHER, DEBORAH LEWIS (khn IMAGE)

Politicians are keenly aware of inflation’s leaching effects. In October, most California households will receive “inflation-relief checks” of up to $1,050 to help offset the high cost of gas and other goods under a budget Gov. Gavin Newsom signed in June.

But health experts worry that even with the one-time aid, affordability could become a life-or-death issue for some Californians. For example, the price of insulin can range from $300 to $400 per vial without insurance.

“We’ve seen a number of patients living with diabetes and on a fixed income greatly impacted by rising inflation,” said Matthew Freeby, an endocrinologist and director of the UCLA Gonda Diabetes Center. “Both Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes typically require multiple prescription medications that may already be costly. Patients have had to choose between day-to-day finances and their lifesaving medications, such as insulin or other treatments.”

Inflation is also a challenge for people who depend on certain foods as part of their health care regimen, especially with food prices up 10.9% in the past year.

Toyan Miller, 60, an integrative nutritional health practitioner from San Dimas, California, has been diagnosed with vasculitis and Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, two autoimmune diseases that cause inflammation. Miller’s medically tailored diet requires gluten-free, organic food. Miller said she’s dipping into her savings to afford the average of $300 she spends each week on groceries. Last year, she spent about $100 less.

“The avocado mayonnaise price freaked me out,” she said. “It used to be $8. Now, it’s $16.99.”

Even those who are healthy may find themselves helping family or friends in need.

In the mountainous Los Angeles neighborhood of Laurel Canyon, Shelley Goldstein, 60, helps her parents, both in their 90s, pay for items, such as incontinence products, not covered by health insurance. Goldstein’s father was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and lives in a retirement community with his wife, Doris.

“Those are basic things, but that’s like $70 a month between the two of them,” said Goldstein, who works as a speaking coach. “That’s a lot.”

Goldstein worries about how much more of her parents’ health costs she’ll have to shoulder since they are pensioners on fixed incomes.

“What keeps me up at night right now is what’s to come,” she said. “There’s two of them. My parents’ increased need for pads, meds, and other medical support increases as their health declines.”

Kaiser Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. This story first published on California Healthline, a service of the California Health Care Foundation.

Why I Still Take Precautions Against Covid

By Victoria Reed, PNN Columnist

We are three years into the Covid-19 pandemic, and while life has still not returned to normal, it’s understandable for people to be tired of hearing about the virus and less concerned about catching it. Scientists know more about covid and have developed tools to treat and even prevent the most serious outcomes.

But many of us who are suffering from chronic illness or chronic pain are still wearing masks, practicing social distancing and taking other precautions.

As I go out and about in my daily life, I’ve noticed that mask use is somewhat minimal. People don’t seem to be as concerned about the virus and its variants, even as cases are skyrocketing again. I’m one of the few who still wears a mask in crowded indoor places, airplanes and restaurants.

Fortunately, I have not yet been infected with covid. I attribute that to always being cautious in public (sometimes even outside) and when around family members who I know aren’t taking precautions. Being vaccinated and boosted is another layer of protection I believe has helped me.

The choice to be vaccinated is a personal one and should not be looked at as a political issue or be a source of ridicule. The same goes for mask use. Sometimes people look at me funny because I still wear a mask, but I am “allowed” to do that, just as others are equally allowed to stop wearing theirs.

I don’t judge people who choose not to wear a mask, and conversely, I shouldn’t be judged for wearing one.

Part of my caution comes from having a dysfunctional and overactive immune system, which is altered by a medication I take to control symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis (RA). This medication suppresses a certain part of the immune system that is implicated in the development of RA.  Rheumatoid arthritis primarily attacks the joints, but can also attack the heart, lungs and eyes.

Having to take this particular med (commonly called a biologic), makes me more vulnerable to contracting all types of infection, including covid. It also makes it more difficult to recover from infections and can lead to serious or even deadly complications. 

In addition, the threat of possibly ending up with long covid, when symptoms linger for months or longer, is a concern of mine, especially since fatigue is a major part of long covid syndrome. Profound and disabling fatigue is also a feature of RA and fibromyalgia, so anything I can do to prevent another illness that causes fatigue is important to me. Even mild cases of covid can cause long covid, according to researchers.

Covid can also lead to physical complications. Studies have shown that the virus can cause neurological problems, difficulty breathing, joint or muscle pain, blood clots or other vascular issues, chest pain and unpleasant digestive symptoms.

Furthermore, the virus has been associated with increased psychological problems, such as depression and anxiety. The media has reported on the unfortunate suicides of people who had been suffering from long covid and were unable to get any relief besides ending their own lives.

In the long term, it remains to be seen how covid will affect the millions of us who are already suffering from chronic pain and illness. Fortunately, there are treatments that help with the symptoms and recovery for the majority of people who become infected. There are also medications that can save the lives of those who are at high risk of severe illness.

As more time passes, I’m sure other treatments will emerge, and I’m hopeful that as a chronic pain sufferer with multiple chronic illnesses, I will be okay if I do someday end up getting sick with covid.

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

How Intractable Pain Causes Brain Tissue Loss

By Dr. Forest Tennant, PNN Columnist

The brain not only controls pain but the endocrine, cardiovascular, metabolic, respiratory and gastrointestinal systems. Any or all of these biologic systems may malfunction if there is brain tissue loss.

Beginning in 2004, brain scan studies began to document that brain tissue loss can be caused by intractable pain. Today, almost 20 years later, this important fact appears to be either unknown or a mystery to both the public and medical professionals.

Basic science researchers have unraveled the complex process of how and why this pathological phenomenon may occur. A good understanding of how this pathology develops is critical to properly care for and treat persons who develop intractable pain whether due to a disease or an injury.

What Causes Tissue Loss?

Tissue loss anywhere in the body is caused by inflammation, autoimmunity, or loss of blood supply due to trauma or disease. The brain scan studies done since 2004 that documented brain tissue loss were not done in persons who had a stroke or head trauma, but in pain patients experiencing inflammation and autoimmunity (i.e., collagen deterioration). It turns out that both biologic mechanisms may operate to cause brain tissue loss in intractable pain patients.

In the pursuit of understanding brain tissue loss and its accompanying malfunctions, it has been discovered that the brain and spinal cord (central nervous system or CNS) contain cells called microglia. They are closely akin to the immune protective cells in the blood stream which are called a “lymphocytes.”

The microglia in the CNS lay dormant until a harmful infection, toxin or bioelectric magnetic signal enters its domain, at which time it activates to capture and encapsulate the danger or produce inflammation to destroy the offender.

If the microglia are overwhelmed by some danger, such as a painful disease that isn’t cured, it produces excess inflammation that destroys some brain tissue which can be seen on special brain scans. Some viruses such as Epstein Barr may hibernate in microglia cells and create an autoimmune response, which magnifies inflammation and brain tissue loss.

Intractable pain diseases such as adhesive arachnoiditis (AA), reflex sympathetic dystrophy (CRPS/RSD), and genetic connective tissue diseases such as Ehlers-Danlos syndrome may incessantly produce toxic tissue particles and/or bioelectromagnetic signals that perpetuate microglial inflammation, tissue loss and CNS malfunctions.

This is the reason why proper pain management must have two targets: the pain generator and CNS inflammation.

How To Know You Have Lost Brain Tissue

If your pain is constant and never totally goes away, it means you have lost some brain tissue and neurotransmitters that normally shut off pain. If you have episodes of sweating, heat or anxiety, you probably have inflammation that is flaring. Naturally, if you feel you have lost some reading, calculating or memory capacity, it possibly means you have lost some brain tissue. MRI’s may also show some fibrous scars.

Fortunately, studies show that if a painful disease or injury is cured or reduced, brain tissue can regenerate. While we can’t guarantee that brain tissue will be restored, we offer here our simple, immediate and first step recommendations using non-prescription measures.

First, do you know the name and characteristics of the disease or injury that is causing your pain? Are you engaging in specific treatments to reduce or even cure your disease, or are you simply taking symptomatic pain relief medications? 

Start at least two herbal-botanical agents that have some clinical indications that they reduce inflammation in the brain and spinal cord: serrapeptase-palmitoylethanolamide (PEA) and astragalus-curcumin-luteolin-nanokinase. You can take different agents on different days. 

Increase the amount of protein (meat, fish, poultry, eggs) in your diet. Consider a collagen supplement. Limit starches and sugars. 

Start taking these vitamins and minerals:

• Vitamin C - 2,000mg in the AM & PM

• Vitamin B-12, Vitamin D

• Minerals: Magnesium and selenium

We recommend vitamins daily and minerals 3 to 5 days a week. 

The above will help you stop additional tissue loss and hopefully regenerate brain tissue.  

Forest Tennant, MD, DrPH, is retired from clinical practice but continues his research on the treatment of intractable pain and arachnoiditis. This column is adapted from bulletins recently issued by the Arachnoiditis Research and Education Project and the Intractable Pain Syndrome Research and Education Project.

The Tennant Foundation gives financial support to Pain News Network and sponsors PNN’s Patient Resources section.   

A Pained Life: The Blame Game

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

Do you ever second guess yourself or play the blame game?  I did it again when I found myself doing too much.

While reading, my eye pain from trigeminal neuralgia started to grow and I thought, “Oh heck, I can do one more page.” And with each additional page, I repeated what has become a mantra: “It's okay. I can do it.”  

But of course, I can't. Not without paying a price. 

I finished most of what I wanted to do, my eye pain constantly telling and then yelling at me, “Stop already!”  

By the time I gave in and stopped, the level of pain was exquisite. I had no choice but to go to straight to bed, and try not to move my eyes for 15 minutes, if I was lucky, or an hour or more if I was not 

I do the same when going outside. I know a breeze, or even worse the wind, will again trigger the pain from trigeminal neuralgia. Any touch to the affected side of my face does. But I so much want to go outside.  

“Oh, the wind doesn't look that bad,” I’ll say to myself as I watch the tree in my backyard swaying from the strength of the wind against it. I go outside, the pain is triggered and I scurry back inside as fast as I can, then wait the 15 minutes to an hour before the pain calms down.   

The whole time I lie there and self-flagellate: “I knew to stop, but heaven forbid I should do what I know is right. I knew better. It serves me right.” And so on. 

Most people do this kind of thing. “I knew I shouldn't have eaten that last slice of cake, this stomach ache serves me right.” or “I knew I shouldn't have made that right turn back there and now I'm lost.”  

It's normal, for everyone but us. Because our lives stopped being “normal” the moment the pain took over. For me, “normal” meant reading for as long as I wanted, even for hours at a time; watching a movie and enjoying the brightness and movements on the screen; walking outside even when the wind is strong; or enjoying the feel of snowflakes falling on my face.  

My “normal” for the last few decades has been the exact opposite. 

We can't blame ourselves when normal doesn't work for us anymore. Our “new normal” is stopping before the pain gets too bad, being honest and saying, “I'm sorry. I can't do that activity or go with you today.” 

To me, my new normal is an awful thing, but the longer I try to deny it, to hold on to my old normal, the harder it is to accept. And it seems there is no time limit for how long you can hold onto the false hope that the old normal will return.  

The irony is that the word normal means “standard,” yet everyone's normal is defined by their own peculiar standards and needs. So, at the end of the day, there is no true normal for anyone but the one measured by their own internal yardstick.

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.

Waiting and Wanting to Die in Canada

By Ann Marie Gaudon, PNN Columnist

RIP Margaret Bristow October 23, 1959 – August 10, 2022

No, that’s not a typo. My friend Maggie will be dying in a few days, on August 10 to be exact.

Confused? I am trying to make sense of this, too.

One night a few months ago, I was hurting. Oh, my goodness was I hurting! I was lying in bed and decided to do a quick body scan.

I began with my head. I had a throbbing headache, which I suspect was a result of fairly severe TMJ. It felt like my jaw was locked solid, which is terrifically painful, and my tongue was burning as well.

I also was suffering with tinnitus that night, which is typically accompanied by severe ear pain. I also felt gastroesophageal reflux burning a fiery hole in my gut.

Next up was a severe back injury from 2017, which was irritated and oh boy did that ever hurt! Down I went to my bladder, which was burning from an interstitial cystitis flare. Pudendal neuralgia had nerve pain radiating from my sacrum down both legs and into both hips. Osteoarthritis had my hips, knees, legs and ankles throbbing.

Finally, both feet felt like I had knives stabbing into them over and over, as I now have plantar fasciitis to add to my list of pain conditions. What a state I was in. Neuropathic pain, visceral pain, and musculoskeletal pain -- all in a rage.

Nine different pains in total that night, which is not at all typical for me. I had nowhere to put this earthly body for more comfort. Sitting or lying on my back increased the pudendal neuralgia; lying on my side increased my ear and hip pain; lying on my stomach was painful for my neck; and standing increased the plantar fasciitis.

I had nowhere to go, so I lay there quite still. In case you are wondering, yes, I have medications and I took them all. I also took everything OTC that I had in the house. It didn’t seem to make any difference; the pain was surging and the medications were no match for it.

I thought to myself that if this were to become permanent, I would surely not survive it. My problem-solving brain told me the only way out would be the release of death. If nothing could tame all of these pains, what choice would I have? I couldn’t work like this and I couldn’t engage in relationships like this.  I could barely string together two sentences in my head.

I could not function in any capacity, so I lay there quite still, trying my best to be with the pain, but not overtaken by it. In that one horrible night, I understood why my sweet friend had chosen to die on August 10, 2022.

‘I Would Rather Have My Medication Back’

Maggie Bristow has been in chronic pain for over 25 years from fibromyalgia, degenerative disc disease, spinal stenosis and arthritis. Her pain became so severe that she was given opiate medication, which she took for many years. By 2016, the Ottawa woman felt the medication was not working very well, because her pain was increasing.

Already feeling pressured to reduce his prescribing, her pain physician took her off opiates and tried many other types of treatment, but nothing worked. He told her there was nothing else left to try.

To this day I do not fully understand this part of Maggie’s story. Was she properly titrated on opiate medications? Were they combined with something else? What about novel approaches like opiates placed in the spinal fluid? I will never know. I do know that Maggie felt she was out of options.

“My body constantly feels like a blow torch has been taken to it. I’ve not been able to sleep in a horizontal position for 20 years and I am housebound due to the intense pain,” Maggie told me.

“Simple tasks like opening the mail, preparing food and maintaining good hygiene are agonizing, monumental tasks. I would rather have my medication back or be allowed to die peacefully.”

With her pain increasing, Maggie just wanted it to stop. That year she applied for assisted death under Canada’s Medical Assistance in Dying law (MAID), and was flatly denied because she did not meet the criterion that a natural death be “reasonably foreseeable."

MAGGIE AND HER LATE PARTNER, BRIAN

Maggie persevered and once again in 2019 applied for MAID. For the second time, she received a phone call telling her that her request had been denied. She felt very deflated, upset and confused.

Quality of life continued to worsen for Maggie and she waited patiently for new legislation to pass last year amending the MAID law, which removed the criterion that “death was foreseeable.”

When she applied for a third time, the MAID physician requested a new MRI, a second opinion from another neurologist, and someone to give her opiate pain medication. Maggie was dumbfounded at this third request, because she was searching for five years for opiates to no avail. She chose to ignore that, and responded to the other two requests which showed results that her spine was “totally inoperable.”

Weeks and months dragged on for Maggie. Finally, a call came from her general practitioner who told her that the MAID physician advised that she tried to contact Maggie with no success. Maggie said that was nonsense because she is housebound and never heard from her. The truth was that the MAID physician was not comfortable signing off on her case.

Part of the policy for MAID is that if a doctor is unwilling to help you, they must refer you to another doctor who will provide service for you. This however did not happen. Maggie was left hanging and extremely put out for all the time wasted when she could have been researching other avenues. She was now desperate.

A phone call took place to provincial MAID, with Maggie telling them that the Ottawa MAID declined her request. What were her options? They told her they would just refer her back to Ottawa. Really? Maggie was now quite angry and she called her GP, who reached someone else in the organization and found a MAID physician in Toronto who would help her to die.

This is where I go off the rails. A doctor will not help you get opiate medication, but will help you die? This was not the Canada that I was born into.

The MAID physician in Toronto reached Maggie via video conference and after her assessment said she would sign off immediately on her request. Maggie felt good about this but also knew that it takes two doctors to sign off for your peaceful death to happen.

Time dragged on again. The GP called her contact to ask what was happening and soon another video conference with a second MAID physician took place. This physician did not give Maggie any indication of what the decision was. Weeks later, Maggie received a call from the first doctor, who told her that her application was approved.

They would indeed help her to die as per her wishes, on August 10, 2022 at approximately 2:00 pm. They will have a long drive to get there, but Maggie’s sister will be with her. Afterwards, her organs will be harvested for donation and her body will be shipped back to Ottawa for cremation.   

Maggie blames Health Canada for the many problems she and other Canadian patients in severe pain have getting opiate medication.

“People like me, and there are many of us, continue to suffer. Suicide is our only option. This is a level of cruelty that is very difficult to fathom and really has to stop,” she said.

The world will be losing a gem on August 10. Maggie is a warrior woman for all that she has endured. She is a survivor through and through. I have seen grace, generosity of spirit, love, and even a sense of humor through all of this.

Is Maggie beyond treatment without a doubt? I will wonder about that for the rest of my life as I remember my sweet friend and all that she embodied.

Maggie’s partner Brian, the love of her life, passed in 2008. She will be survived by two children and five grandchildren.

Ann Marie Gaudon is a registered social worker and psychotherapist in the Waterloo region of Ontario, Canada with a specialty in chronic pain management.  She has been a chronic pain patient for over 30 years and works part-time as her health allows. For more information about Ann Marie's counseling services, visit her website. 

If you are in crisis and live in Canada, help is available by calling the Canada Suicide Prevention Service at 833-456-4566. If you live in the US, help is available by calling the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (formerly know as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline) at 988 or 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). You can also call 911 for immediate help.

Be Careful What You Wish For: Cancer Is Not a Way Out From Pain

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

When my oncologist recently spewed the worst word I’ve ever heard -- “recurrence” -- everything in my mind sped up and stopped at the same time. I made a brutal fight for my life in 2020 against Triple Negative Breast Cancer, but came up short.   

Now launching my second battle, a misguided myth disheartens me. Many of us with pain say things like, “I wish I’d been lucky and gotten cancer instead, because with cancer you either die or get better.”

WRONG! I now see this thinking as a cop out, a “poor me” pity party and gross disrespect for those who fight for their lives.

Let me break the suspense. If you ever get the Big C, it will not deliver you from your suffering. You won’t be jumping up and down with glee because your pain problems are over. Like the rest of us, you’ll take on the fight of your life and your pain will quickly take a back seat.  

Here’s more upending news about the “deliverance” mythology: With all of cancer’s apparent “perks” (abundant research, unending sympathy, bountiful support, etc.), it’s anything but the ticker-tape parade of arm-locked togetherness. In reality, an aggressive cancer diagnosis is a new brand of isolating, hellish suffering with death as a probable outcome.

Then there’s this: Cancer fetches a morbid world of trespasses. Many project their fears by pummeling us with religious fervor. It’s unsettling to receive pious magazines and missives about the new body I’ll soon have, the one without pain. Friends and people I don’t know remind me of how lucky I am to be nearing death’s door, because the other side will be paradise.

A head’s up! With cancer, even more than being in a wheelchair, one becomes public domain, open to an onslaught of good intentions delivered with a heaping side of judgement.

And there are the bizarre jealousies. I can’t believe I’m writing this. Have you ever noticed that many in the pain world compete? It’s all too often about who’s the sickest, who’s agonizing most. When you go to the front of the line with cancer, people can get cruel because you’re hailed as the winner of the “Can’t Get Worse Than This” award. Well, three cheers for me!

Soul-Sapping Support

Most heartbreaking, just when I thought my support system couldn’t atrophy further, people have scurried. A number of my close friends who stayed through my decades of pain have stunningly distanced themselves or pulled away altogether. Friends that I believed were strong enough to withstand anything, my rocks, crumbled.

And, ah yes, the platitudes. If I hear “You got this” one more time, I may lose whatever I still got. “Good luck” while walking away has become code for “I’m not strong enough for this scene, but I hope you can keep yourself above ground.”

Then there’s the classic, “If you just think positively, everything will be fine.” Far from it. Faking positivity is the most energy-draining, soul-sapping activity known to humankind.   

Have you ever heard the term, “scanxiety”? If not, that’s because you haven’t had cancer with its phobic-driving medical scans that endlessly loom. It may surprise you (it did me!) to learn that cancer falls into the chronic illness category, a potentially terminal co-morbidity. Even if you hit the jackpot of remission, you’re doomed to a life of fearful obsession over the possibility of recurrence. With cancer, I guarantee you’ll never, ever again be gifted a moment of real peace.        

For these reasons, and the many I don’t have room to share, I implore you to stop thinking that cancer is the way out of pain. To the contrary, if you’re ever diagnosed with a life-threatening malignancy, you’ll be praying for the good ol’ days. Just as I do.

Also, it’s an insult. There are many of us, fighting for our lives and weathering horrendous therapies just to have one more shot -- therapies that often leave us with increased life-long pain. So, please check yourself the next time you have the impulse to blithely state how people with cancer are the lucky ones.

I’m ashamed of the things I used to think and say. I was wrong and out of line. I apologize to all, past, present and future, who had, have or will have courage I didn’t honor.

Sorry for the finger-wagging. I know we’re struggling to cope with the day-to-day torture of our pain, along with the dread that our suffering will likely go on till we’re no longer. But desiring worse isn’t the answer. I guess I’ve seen too much now to put up with ignorance and lack of self-worth. Cancer does that to you, especially the second time around.

This boils down to the power of thoughts and words. I believe they have the sway to make us sick or well. Choose them wisely, and be careful what you wish for.

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.”

I’m Living Proof That Effective Pain Management Can Heal

By Heather Grace

My journey into what would become debilitating pain began at age 19, when my neck was injured in a head-on collision caused by a drunk driver. Being a backseat passenger in an older car meant there were no headrests.

I healed as best I could after the accident with chiropractic care and exercise. I was young and told myself I’d be fine, but sensed I wasn’t quite the same as before.

Nearly a decade of work in the IT field worsened the severity of my injury, due to faulty ergonomics. Between the severe pain and the horrors of the workers compensation system, it began to feel like I was in free fall. At my first visit with a prominent pain management specialist, I was told, “Normal is out the window for you.”

It was the worst thing I’d ever heard, so I began sobbing. What he said wasn’t actually cruel, it was honest. He could see that my body was broken by work comp care that included two botched neurosurgeries and one spinal discectomy-fusion surgery that came far too late to be a good thing. 

I was left with intractable pain and nerve damage, which would be diagnosed as Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) Type II. The CRPS is not regional at all, but spread to the whole body, thanks to the impact on my spinal column and brain.

I would later also learn that I was born with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, a progressive connective tissue disease.

HEATHER GRACE

Intractable Pain Syndrome (IPS) isn’t well understood in mainstream medicine because it’s not very common. In fact, even after working in Continuing Medical Education for 10 years, I’d never heard of IPS until I was diagnosed with it. I didn’t know that it was possible to be in severe unceasing pain.

People with IPS experience major health problems throughout their lives because of the physical and psychological toll that pain takes on the brain and body. Treatment for this complex and disabling condition must be taken seriously and done correctly.

A New Future

After all this was explained to me by my doctor, I realized that to move forward with my life, I had to stop pinning my hopes on returning someday to “normal.” I had to grieve the loss of my former life. Once I did, a door was opened to a meaningful future for me.

Thanks to amazing treatment with a physician who also helped me focus on the future, I’m living again in a way I didn’t think was possible when I first sat down with my doctor in 2006. He found the right treatments for me, which included opioid pain medication.  

I’ve reduced my medication dose slowly over the years. I’m now taking less than one sixth the pain medication I started with. That’s because I’ve experienced neurogenesis, a form of healing in my nervous system.

It is possible for people like me to heal, albeit very slowly over time when they get the care that they need. Despite the severity of my conditions, I’m doing well. Contrary to popular opinion, patients who get the proper dose of pain meds don’t always require more and more medication. While some patients’ dosages stay the same, some of us are able to lower our doses when our health improves.  

I’ve come so far. In 2004, when I left the job I loved awaiting two major surgeries, I thought I’d never work again. But I was able to obtain a full-time job (with benefits!) in 2020. It required a major effort, but I got here because I had a good foundation of long-term effective pain management, which lessened the impact of pain on my overall wellness.

Opioid medication does not define my care, nor my life. Pain meds are merely a tool I’ve used to get well. Every patient should have access to individualized pain care with the treatment options that best work for them. It’s crucial for patients if they’re ever going to see their health improve.

I won’t lie, it’s been a struggle and I have had my share of setbacks too. Yet I know without question that pain medication was required in my case. It made a serious difference in my overall health and paved the way to my future too.  

Effective pain management for someone with IPS is as vital as care for any other serious illness. You’d never tell a diabetic that an arbitrary maximum dose of insulin was all they were allowed to have. Why are pain patients any different? None of us asked for the pain, nor do we like having to take a prescription drug that’s so socially maligned. These judgments exist nowhere outside of pain management. Why are people in pain treated so differently and with such suspicion?  

The fact is, when the CDC’s opioid prescribing guideline was released in 2016, the consequences were far-reaching and dire. Countless patients have needlessly suffered and died because they lost access to opioids or were tapered, based on the guideline’s recommendations. Many of those deaths have been due to the pain finally overtaking the body. Other patients have chosen to end their pain via suicide. Imagine being so ill that you were forced to make such a choice!  

Without access to effective individualized treatment by physicians whose options aren’t stifled by a system that doesn’t understand pain, many more people with serious diagnoses will develop intractable pain.

Those outside the treatment setting have no business undermining patients’ pain care protocols. They simply don’t have the knowledge to be involved on that level. That goes for the CDC, DEA, state medical boards and insurance companies — along with anyone else who gets in the way of pain patients having effective care. 

Sadly, I know it’s the workers compensation system that led to the severity of my illness. I got an extensive education on how an overburdened system not designed for people with serious healthcare needs can result in disability.  

Please don’t jeopardize the future of an entire branch of medicine any further. There are human lives on the line. Everyone knows someone living with chronic pain. Make the changes needed to continue treating people like me — people whose lives don’t have to end because they have a serious injury or illness. It’s crucial to roll back the damage done by the CDC guideline before we all lose access to pain management forever.

Heather Grace is a patient, advocate and member of For Grace’s Board of Governors. She’s worked for health-focused nonprofits most of her career & developed Continuing Medical Education (CME) for nearly a decade. Heather lives with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome II and the genetic condition Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Heather has a website on pain issues called Intractable Pain Journal.

A Pained Life: Tincture of Time

 By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

“Tincture of time” is a medical maxim. Wait it out. Let's see what happens. Give it time. 

But when you have pain from trigeminal neuralgia, like I do, even a few seconds is too long to wait. Yet it takes time for pills to work. 

I don’t take my codeine prescription before the pain gets bad. I wait until the pain starts, then I take a pill. I hate taking codeine. It makes me feel awful, dry-mouthed and cloudy-headed. It takes about 15 to 20 minutes before it kicks in.  

Unless I let the pain get out of hand by continuing to do things that make it worse, I find my pain usually starts to calm down on its own, in about 20 minutes. The same amount of time it takes for the codeine to work. 

Maybe it's worth the wait. So many of us in pain are complaining, rightfully, that their doctors have reduced their meds or even stopped them completely. It's an awful situation, but one that may have some answers in the self-help column. 

When my pain starts, I no longer immediately head for the codeine bottle. I stop what I'm doing (which may not be possible for many of us), and wait the 20 minutes or so it would have taken for the codeine to help. And, thanks to tincture of time, I am better. Not always; but more often than not.

Tincture of time is one way for us to deal with the pain -- and simultaneously allows us to save pills for when the pain really does gets get out of hand.

It also has a downside. Many of us have lived with our pain for years or, like me, for decades. You get used to it, or as used to pain as one can get. I no longer talk about the pain unless I'm specifically asked about it. Then I usually just “pooh-pooh” it. I am so accustomed to pain that it is now a part of me. And I would rather not talk about it.

I do this with doctors. Any doctor that I see must know what my situation is, just by reading the names of the pain I have. They should know, so I don't make a big deal out of it. 

In that case, a tincture of time is harmful. I dismiss the pain even when I'm asking for help. They respond by not taking me seriously or thinking, “Well, her pain can't be that bad.”

Time can be an enemy or a friend. It may be the medicine we need or one that we need to ignore.

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.

Why ‘Song of Our Scars’ Is Out of Tune

By Janet Kozachek

Understanding a complex problem with a long history such as pain in all its permutations and treatments requires detailed and detached observation. In this respect, “The Song of Our Scars: The Untold Story of Pain” by Haider Warraich, MD, falls short.

In his book, Warraich explores the cultural and medical history of pain, including his own after suffering a severe back injury. Although informative on the science of pain, the book contains some misleading information about ancient and modern history that seem designed to advance what appears to be a strident anti-opioid agenda.

Ironically, what benefitted me most in reading this book were the discoveries made in the pursuit of a fuller story, which revealed greater truths and richer vistas through fact checking. But this was a sad lesson on how popular literature reshapes history in order to serve a narrative. The instances of this are too numerous for this review, so a few examples will have to suffice.

In an earlier op-ed piece written in 2019 for The New York Times, Warraich portrays pain as an emotional sensation, a theme which would become his mainstay in subsequent publications, including Song of Our Scars:

"The ancient Greeks considered pain a passion — an emotion rather than a sensation like touch or smell. During the Dark Ages in Europe, pain was seen as a punishment for sins, a spiritual and emotional experience alleviated through prayers rather than prescriptions.”

The ancient Greeks had a rich vocabulary for the physical sensations of pain, as well as an understanding of emotional pain. A quick search through the ancient Greek lexicon reveals four words to describe pain in both mind and body:  penomai, algos, odyni, and pathos. Algos is the root word for algia, as in the physical pain caused by neuralgia. Pathos describes emotional pain.

The Greeks not only defined the types of pain, they had myriad treatments for it, including an early version of TENS units, in which they had people dip their feet into a bath of electric eels!

Many gods of classical antiquity are associated with the opium poppy plant. According to Warraich, the Greek god of death Thanatos is “depicted holding a wreath of poppies or wearing poppies on his head.” But in my perusal of classical Greek sculpture and vase painting, there are no images of Thanatos bearing or wearing poppies. He is usually depicted holding a butterfly, sword or torch while guiding the dead into the hereafter.

Warriach also claims that poppies are seen in the story of Demeter, “who overdoses on the milk of the poppy to induce anesthesia and forget the torment of having had her daughter (Persephone) raped and abducted by Hades.” In Greek mythology, Persephone is abducted and taken to the underworld, but I can find no references to Demeter self-medicating, let alone overdosing on anything.

Warriach’s understanding of Greek mythology appears to have been derived from a cartoon by a contemporary artist and Wiki-Fandom, an online community for fantasy lovers.

It was enlightening to become reacquainted with Greek myths. I had a similar experience while researching certain claims made in Song of Our Scars about Great Britain’s Opium War with China. Warriach wrote that “the sale of opium remained banned on British shores – unless the sale was to someone of Chinese or Indian origin.”

“The Opium Wars – The Addiction of One Empire and The Corruption of Another,” by W. Travis Hanes and Frank Sanello, says otherwise:

“For not all opium from India ended up in China: Three hundred chests a year were diverted to England with the same disastrous effects as in the middle kingdom... opium was the opiate of the underclass in England’s grim and grimy industrial cities, where workers on pay day lined up outside the chemist’s for the inexpensive palliative to their industrial hell at the reasonable price of one and two pennies per packet.”

Another interesting instance of fact tweaking occurs with regard to Dr. Hamilton Wright, an anti-opioid crusader who served as a U.S. special envoy to China in the early 1900’s. Warriach wrote this about Wright:

“His travels exposed him to the dangers of opium abuse around the world, imbuing in him a special zeal against the poppy... He told The New York Times that year that thousands of people were “slaves to the opium habit, about five-sixths of whom are white.”

But the original context in the 1908 Times article is missing, because Wright mentions specifically that six thousand opium addicts were in New York City.

This gem from the original article is also omitted:

“While Dr. Wright believes that nearly all the Chinese in the great cities are addicted more or less to the habit of smoking opium, not more than one third of them, take it to a harmful extent.”

Cherry picked facts like that in Song of Our Scars often coincide with amorphously defined data like this:

“Multiple studies show that women are more likely to be prescribed opioids, in higher doses, and for longer periods than men.” 

Research cited in Maya Dusenberry’s book, Doing Harm, show that women are actually less likely to be prescribed opioids than men. One explanation for the disparity may be that the studies cited by Warraich appear to rely on raw numbers rather than ratios and percentages.

Warraich does admit to this, which begs the question what his purpose is in bringing up gender differences. Was it an attempt to ascribe opioid addiction largely to women?  It would be wiser to consult the National Institute of Drug Abuse, which reports that addiction falls more heavily on men.

Misleading information like this leads to misunderstanding, which may in turn provoke inappropriate actions -- especially if a narrative is shaped by an agenda. Hopefully, this review may serve as a cautionary tale to read popular literature such as Song of Our Scars with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Janet Kozachek lives with a cluster of painful disorders.

She is an internationally trained and exhibited artist, and holds a Master of Fine Arts Degree in painting and drawing from Parsons School of Design in New York and a Certificate of graduate study from the Central Academy of Fine Art in Beijing.

Janet is the author of The Book of Marvelous Cats, My Women, My Monsters, and A Rendering of Soliloquies: Figures Painted in Spots of Time.

Another Look at the Opioid Risk Tool

By Dr. Lynn Webster

I'm a proud grandfather to two young granddaughters. They are my world. Watching the U.S. Supreme Court rescind women's right to decide what to do with their own bodies made me feel angry that my granddaughters will be subjected to dehumanizing discrimination.

This tyranny against women extends beyond the Supreme Court’s decision over Roe vs. Wade.

I have read multiple accounts of women who are being denied access to opioid medication because they acknowledge a history of toxic adverse experiences as children or adolescents. Many such instances have occurred after women completed the Opioid Risk Tool, a questionnaire that asks a person if they have a history of preadolescent sexual abuse.

The refusal to prescribe opioids to women with a history of preadolescent sexual abuse is a defensive measure by providers to avoid being accused of causing an Opioid Use Disorder (OUD).

Why I Developed the Opioid Risk Tool

The Opioid Risk Tool (ORT) that I developed more than 20 years ago was designed to assess the risk of someone who was prescribed opioids for chronic pain treatment showing aberrant drug-related behavior.

The ORT was a simple questionnaire that could be administered and scored in less than a minute. It was developed at a time when we had no way to assess the risk of developing opioid abuse in patients who were prescribed an opioid for non-cancer pain. We needed a tool to help evaluate whether the risk of potential harm from opioids outweighed the potential good for each individual.

I never intended for doctors to use the ORT to determine who should or shouldn’t be prescribed an opioid. My goal was to help doctors identify patients who might require more careful observation during treatment, not to deny the person access to opioids.

Since abuse and addiction are diagnosed by observing atypical behaviors, knowing which patients are at greatest risk for displaying those behaviors is useful in establishing appropriate levels of monitoring for abuse. This was intended to protect the patient from potential harm. It was never supposed to be used as an excuse to mistreat patients.

The original version of the ORT contained 10 questions, including whether a patient had a history of preadolescent sexual abuse. Women who answered "yes" scored 3 points; while men who responded affirmatively scored 0 points. The higher you scored, the more closely your doctor would need to monitor your opioid use during your treatment.

The ORT questionnaire was based on the best evidence at the time. Multiple studies have since confirmed the validity of the questions used in the questionnaire. However, many people have criticized the question that asks about a history of preadolescent sexual abuse because of a perceived gender inequity. In addition, some doctors have generalized the ORT's question about preadolescent trauma so that it applies to a history of female sexual abuse at all ages.

I have written that the ORT has been weaponized by doctors who are looking for a reason to deny patients -- particularly, women -- adequate pain medication.

There are doctors who use their power to determine whether to treat a woman's chronic pain with an opioid or allow her to suffer needlessly based on the ORT's answers. This is no less malevolent than a forced taper resulting in suicides or the use of the CDC opioid prescribing guideline to criminally charge providers for not following the CDC's recommendation. In all of these situations, an injustice is being committed against innocent people.

It is also not much different from the Supreme Court’s decision to ignore a woman’s right to access full reproductive rights. Both are attacks on women.

Fortunately, Martin Cheatle, PhD, and his team published a revised Opioid Risk Tool in the July 2019 edition of the Journal of Pain. In his research, Dr. Cheatle found that a revised ORT using 9 questions instead of 10 was as accurate as, if not better than, the original ORT in weighing the risk of patients for OUD. The revised ORT eliminates the use of a woman's sexual abuse history as a risk factor.

At a time when females have had their human rights taken away by a Supreme Court vote, it is especially appropriate to reconsider how we assess risks for potential opioid abuse for women.

It distresses me to know that, while the original ORT served to help assess the risk opioids posed for individuals, it has also caused harm. Since the question about a woman's sexual abuse history does not provide any additional benefit, there is no reason to retain it. The revised ORT should be used instead of the original ORT.

Lynn R. Webster, MD, is Senior Fellow at the Center for U.S. Policy (CUSP) and Chief Medical Officer of PainScript. He also consults with the pharamaceutical industry.

Lynn is the author of the award-winning book The Painful Truth, and co-producer of the documentary It Hurts Until You Die. You can find him on Twitter: @LynnRWebsterMD.