We Need To Talk About Suicide Risk From Untreated Chronic Pain
/By Neen Monty
Doctors, policymakers, journalists, and pain experts endlessly warn about the risk of overdose from long term opioid therapy.
But almost nobody talks about the risk of suicide from untreated pain.
Why is this being ignored? Swept under the rug?
Refusing to treat severe pain is not a neutral decision. It is not “playing it safe.” It is not “erring on the side of caution.”
It is a clinical decision that elevates one small risk, while pretending the other barely exists.
Even when that risk is significantly larger, and not even remotely comparable.
Let’s look at the actual numbers. The annual overdose death rate for chronic pain patients prescribed long-term opioid therapy is estimated at:
0.017% to 0.256% per year
Around 0.014% annually at lower doses
Roughly 0.25% annually at high doses (>100 MME/day)
Roughtly 0.75% annually at very high doses (>200 MME/day)
Look at those numbers. Take them in. Understand how small that risk is.
And those numbers are from recent, large scale, well designed studies. That is what the evidence says. Not the rhetoric.
Yet overdose risk is the only risk anyone talks about. The risk used to justify forced tapers. The risk used to deny prescriptions. The risk used to terrify doctors into abandoning pain patients.
Now let’s compare it to the suicide risk associated with chronic pain.
Studies suggest:
5–14% of chronic pain patients attempt suicide
Chronic pain patients have a suicide risk 2–3 times higher than the general population
Around 9% of all suicides in the United States involve chronic pain
Take a good look.
It’s not 0.014 percent. Or 0.25 percent.
It’s five to fourteen percent.
Unlike the overdose rhetoric, this is not a theoretical or hypothetical “what if.”
And the suicide numbers are going up, as more and more people are force tapered off their opioid pain medications.
The cruel irony is that the pain management providers often treat opioid overdose as the worst possible outcome, while treating suicide is an unfortunate but unrelated side issue.
But uncontrolled pain is devastating. It destroys lives.
This is not hard to understand. Think about the worst pain you’ve ever experienced. Now, imagine it did not go away. Imagine you have to live with it every single day for the rest of your life. How long could you handle that?
Uncontrolled pain causes:
hopelessness
isolation
sleep deprivation
loss of identity
financial collapse
disability
relationship breakdown
depression
fear of the future
And if a person expresses any of these fears, they are often deemed as “catastrophising.” The psychological harm caused by uncontrolled pain is substituted as the cause of that pain.
And patients get psychological treatment, when what they really need is pain relief.
They are not the same thing. You cannot switch cause and effect and expect a good outcome. You cannot make physical pain go away with psychological therapies.
The best you can hope for is improved coping skills. But no one can cope with 8+ pain on a daily basis.
No one.
Not for very long, anyway. Not when you know that pain is never going away. How long could you cope with that?
Eventually, for some people, it causes the desire to escape. And there is only one way to escape, when doctors refuse to treat the pain.
Not because people living with severe, untreated pain are weak. Not because they are “catastrophising.” Not because they need a mindfulness workshop or some grounding.
Because severe, relentless pain changes human psychology.
That should not be hard to understand. If you put your hand on a hot stove, your nervous system screams at you to escape. Take your hand off the stove!
What exactly do people think happens when that signal never stops?
For years? Or decades?
I know that many clinicians choose to believe this kind of pain does not exist. That no one has pain that is a constant and severe 8+.
That is not true. That’s what we call denial. And it does a lot of patient harm.
My pain is an 8+ every day, for much of the day. My pain is not amplified by psychological issues. My pain is purely physical. I have been in pain for 20 years. If you think I haven’t learned about pain and coping skills, then you are doing me a grave disservice.
And here is the part nobody wants to say out loud:
When a clinician refuses to adequately treat severe pain, they are making a risk calculation.
They are deciding that preventing a comparatively rare overdose death is more important than preventing the far more common risk of suicide.
It makes no sense, not logically, not medically.
But it is true.
Every medical decision involves risk trade-offs. Medicine is all about risks vs benefits.
We accept bleeding risks to prevent stroke. We accept infection risks during surgery. We accept chemotherapy toxicity to treat cancer.
But somehow, in pain medicine, only one risk counts: Overdose.
Nothing else matters. Everything else disappears. The suffering disappears. The suicide risk disappears. And the patient disappears.
But the pain does not disappear.
Even worse, pain patients are often blamed for the emotional consequences of living in agony.
If they become distressed, hopeless, fearful, withdrawn, anxious or depressed, that is now framed as a psychological problem, a mental illness that requires psychotherapy, rather than an understandable and normal response to relieve their physical suffering.
Imagine applying that logic anywhere else in medicine.
An amputee becomes depressed and hopeless because they can no longer walk.
Would we respond by saying: “Have you tried reframing your thoughts?”
Or would we offer them treatment? Prosthetics? A wheelchair? The ability to regain some of what they have lost?
A person loses their hearing, and becomes depressed and hopeless because they can no longer communicate.
Would we respond by saying: “Have you tried learning about how hearing works?”
Or would we teach them lip reading and sign language, and introduce them to the deaf community?
I could list a million examples. The point is, we should treat the problem. In no other forum do we withhold treatment and offer psychological therapies that are inappropriate and ineffective, rather than treat the actual pain.
None of this means that opioids are risk-free. They are not.
Opioids can absolutely cause harm, especially when combined with sedatives, are used recklessly, or prescribed without appropriate monitoring.
But pretending that untreated pain is safer than treating with opioids is not evidence-based medicine.
It is ideology.
And the people paying the price are patients trapped in severe pain with fewer and fewer options.
Medicine loves the phrase: “First, do no harm.”
But untreated and undertreated pain is doing harm.
Patient abandonment is harmful. Forcing people to suffer while congratulating yourself for reducing opioid prescribing is harmful.
Sometimes, it is simply choosing a different kind of death for your patient.
An earlier death.
One that happens quieter.
One that is easier to ignore.
One that can be separated from lack of treatment.
One that can be attributed to poor mental health, instead of pain.
One that leaves no scandalous headline.
One that policymakers do not have to feel responsible for.
Perhaps that is the real issue. Overdose deaths are visible, while pain patients are invisible.
So only one becomes politically inconvenient.
Neen Monty is a patient advocate in Australia who lives with rheumatoid arthritis and Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy (CIDP), a progressive neurological disease that attacks the nerves.
Neen is dedicated to challenging misinformation and promoting access to safe, effective pain relief. For more information on chronic pain, the science, the politics and the lived experience, got to Pain Patient Advocacy Australia. You can also subscribe to Neen’s free newsletter on Substack, “Arthritic Chick on Chronic Pain.”
