Brain Receptor May Hold Key to Treating Neuropathic Pain  

By Pooja Shree Chettiar and Siddhesh Sabnis  

Pain is easy to understand until it isn’t. A stubbed toe or sprained ankle hurts, but it makes sense because the cause is clear and the pain fades as you heal.

But what if the pain didn’t go away? What if even a breeze felt like fire, or your leg burned for no reason at all? When pain lingers without a clear cause, that’s neuropathic pain.

We are neuroscientists who study how pain circuits in the brain and spinal cord change over time. Our work focuses on the molecules that quietly reshape how pain is felt and remembered.

We didn’t fully grasp how different neuropathic pain was from injury-related pain until we began working in a lab studying it. Patients spoke of a phantom pain that haunted them daily – unseen, unexplained and life-altering.

These conversations shifted our focus from symptoms to mechanisms. What causes this ghost pain to persist, and how can we intervene at the molecular level to change it?

More Than Just Physical Pain

Neuropathic pain stems from damage to or dysfunction in the nervous system itself. The system that was meant to detect pain becomes the source of it, like a fire alarm going off without a fire. Even a soft touch or breeze can feel unbearable.

Neuropathic pain doesn’t just affect the body – it also alters the brain. Chronic pain of this nature often leads to depression, anxiety, social isolation and a deep sense of helplessness. It can make even the most routine tasks feel unbearable.

About 10% of the U.S. population – tens of millions of people – experience neuropathic pain, and cases are rising as the population ages. Complications from diabetes, cancer treatments or spinal cord injuries can lead to this condition. Despite its prevalence, doctors often overlook neuropathic pain because its underlying biology is poorly understood.

There’s also an economic cost to neuropathic pain. This condition contributes to billions of dollars in health care spending, missed workdays and lost productivity. In the search for relief, many turn to opioids, a path that, as seen from the opioid epidemic, can carry its own devastating consequences through addiction.

GluD1: A Quiet But Crucial Player

Finding treatments for neuropathic pain requires answering several questions. Why does the nervous system misfire in this way? What exactly causes it to rewire in ways that increase pain sensitivity or create phantom sensations? And most urgently: Is there a way to reset the system?

This is where our lab’s work and the story of a receptor called GluD1 comes in. Short for glutamate delta-1 receptor, this protein doesn’t usually make headlines. Scientists have long considered GluD1 a biochemical curiosity, part of the glutamate receptor family, but not known to function like its relatives that typically transmit electrical signals in the brain.

Instead, GluD1 plays a different role. It helps organize synapses, the junctions where neurons connect. Think of it as a construction foreman: It doesn’t send messages itself, but directs where connections form and how strong they become.

This organizing role is critical in shaping the way neural circuits develop and adapt, especially in regions involved in pain and emotion. Our lab’s research suggests that GluD1 acts as a molecular architect of pain circuits, particularly in conditions like neuropathic pain where those circuits misfire or rewire abnormally. In parts of the nervous system crucial for pain processing like the spinal cord and amygdala, GluD1 may shape how people experience pain physically and emotionally.

Fixing the Misfire

Across our work, we found that disruptions to GluD1 activity is linked to persistent pain. Restoring GluD1 activity can reduce pain. The question is, how exactly does GluD1 reshape the pain experience?

In our first study, we discovered that GluD1 doesn’t operate solo. It teams up with a protein called cerebellin-1 to form a structure that maintains constant communication between brain cells. This structure, called a trans-synaptic bridge, can be compared to a strong handshake between two neurons. It makes sure that pain signals are appropriately processed and filtered.

But in chronic pain, the bridge between these proteins becomes unstable and starts to fall apart. The result is chaotic. Like a group chat where everyone is talking at once and nobody can be heard clearly, neurons start to misfire and overreact. This synaptic noise turns up the brain’s pain sensitivity, both physically and emotionally. It suggests that GluD1 isn’t just managing pain signals, but also may be shaping how those signals feel.

What if we could restore that broken connection?

In our second study, we injected mice with cerebellin-1 and saw that it reactivated GluD1 activity, easing their chronic pain without producing any side effects. It helped the pain processing system work again without the sedative effects or disruptions to other nerve signals that are common with opioids. Rather than just numbing the body, reactivating GluD1 activity recalibrated how the brain processes pain.

Of course, this research is still in the early stages, far from clinical trials. But the implications are exciting: GluD1 may offer a way to repair the pain processing network itself, with fewer side effects and less risk of addiction than current treatments.

For millions living with chronic pain, this small, peculiar receptor may open the door to a new kind of relief: one that heals the system, not just masks its symptoms.

Pooja Shree Chettiar and Siddhesh Sabnis are neuroscience PhD candidates at Texas A&M University.

This article originally appeared in The Conversation and is republished with permission.

A Pained Life: Riding the Medical Merry-Go-Round  

By Carol Levy

I recently went to an Urgent Care clinic because the left side of my face -- the side with the trigeminal neuralgia and phantom pain -- was swollen.

Had it been the right side of my face, I have no doubt they would have prescribed antibiotics and sent me home. Instead, because it was the left side, it became a major issue of “What is it?”

That earned me another ride on the medical merry-go-round.

Urgent care recommended I see an otolaryngologist; an ear, nose and throat specialist. He did nothing for me, but did pronounce, “Yep, it's swollen.”

My family doctor prescribed steroids, ordered blood tests, and a CAT scan of my facial bones. That was no help.

Next came a dermatologist who said, “No idea. See your neurologist.”

So I did. She ordered an MRI of my facial bones and more blood work. Again, all negative.

My GP suggested another otolaryngologist. The second one said she didn’t know what was causing my face to swell, but prescribed an antibiotic anyway.

At the next appointment, I was floored when she asked, “Has anyone else told you your face is swollen?”

That implied I was making it all up. Even though the swelling was obvious. 

Pain is not obvious.  Articles tell us not to exaggerate our pain or to pretend that we’re not in pain. The lesson seems to be to avoid stigma or judgement by not indicating one way or another if we have pain.

Is it any wonder then that we're asked, “Are you sure it's really that bad?” Or it’s suggested that we’re not really hurting, and could work or get out of bed if we really wanted to.

Being questioned about the reality of our pain is an awful discussion to have. We say we have it. That should be enough. And to some doctors, very few it seems, it is.  We say we have pain and they accept it.

Then, of course, there are the doctors whose philosophy is “seeing is believing.” Because our pain is often invisible to the eye, they refuse to believe us.

Until now, it never occurred to me that also applies when we go to a doctor with a normal everyday complaint. They still didn’t believe me, even when the swelling was plainly visible.

I still have the swelling. No one has figured it out. It’s just one more instance where a chronic pain condition interferes with getting the medical care that we need. And send us for another ride on the merry-go-round.

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.