Our Search for a New Pain Doctor

By Marlee Hanson, Guest Columnist

I am 31, and my husband Ray is 34.  Ray is disabled.  His biggest daily struggle is chronic pain from  a serious back injury. Adding to our troubles is that we live in Montana, a state where there is an acute shortage of doctors willing to treat chronic pain with pain medication.
 
Ray has undergone multiple surgeries to fuse his spine.  We went into these surgeries knowing he would lose some range of motion, but hopeful that they would lessen his pain, allowing Ray to be the husband and father he desperately wants to be.  Sadly, the surgeries were difficult, the recoveries were long, and his pain has only worsened postoperatively.  The disappointment has been crushing.
 
Interventional pain procedures have sadly failed to help my husband as well.  He has endured diagnostic CT myelograms and developed post-procedure cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) leaks.  One was severe enough to require an epidural blood patch.  A CSF leak causes vomiting and a severe headache commonly known as a spinal headache.  These are not only painful, but can lead to meningitis.  The primary treatment is bed-rest.  When this fails, an epidural blood patch is performed.  Though it relieves the headache in most cases, it puts the patient at further risk of developing meningitis.

On many days my husband is not able to move, get out of bed, prepare food, or even take a simple shower because the pain is so severe.  Thankfully, Ray has found relief through opioids. Oxycodone allows him to function so he can be a husband and father.  It gives him enough relief that he is able to stretch and do physical therapy exercises. 

Exercise has also allowed him to rebuild muscle, improve stamina and helped decrease his pain.  None of this would be possible without the pain relief opioids provide him. Unfortunately, we fear my husband is weeks away from losing access to the one medication that truly gives him relief, as his physician’s license has been suspended.

Once we knew this was a possibility, Ray and I began seeking a new doctor to treat him. I believe my husband is a low risk patient.  He takes his medication as prescribed, does not abuse it, and has never been discharged by a doctor for misusing his medication. He has never overdosed. 

ray and marlee hanson

So far we have scheduled appointments with two doctors. The first one neither examined my husband nor reviewed the X-Rays and MRI’s we brought to the appointment. This physician made his treatment decision based on the prescription monitoring database and gave my disabled husband a prescription for one quarter of what he usually takes in a month, along with a pamphlet on vocational rehabilitation. 

We told the doctor Ray had already consulted vocational rehabilitation when it was suggested by his workers compensation caseworker.  We explained to the doctor how much opioids have reduced his pain and improved his ability to function.  The doctor said it was simply not worth the risk of his license being suspended.

Years ago, workers’ compensation and Social Security deemed that Ray was disabled, based on input from several physicians.  We felt this new doctor was not listening, and we were disappointed when he refused to provide the chronic pain management my husband needs. 
 
We were still hopeful that the second doctor, who was recommended by a friend, would assume responsibility for his care.  Ray waited five months for this appointment.  The day before the appointment, the doctor's office called to cancel, stating she would not see Ray for pain management. She also refused to fill his prescription.  He has taken these medications with good functional benefit for the past eight years.

We used to travel to Missoula for chronic pain management.  The trip was inconvenient and the long drive exacerbated his pain.  Eventually we were fortunate enough to find a physician in Helena near our home.  Unfortunately, we will now be forced to travel for appointments once again and deal with all that this entails.  Our next appointment will be in Great Falls.  If Ray does not receive care there, not only will we be forced to travel out of state, but my husband will also have exhausted his supply of medication. 

Ray is a law abiding citizen with a chronic pain condition that needs to be addressed.  Finding care is nearly impossible in the current regulatory climate.  I fear deeply that one day he will escape his pain by suicide.  Ray is not suicidal at all, but I fear if he is forced to go without medication, he will become bound to bed in pain, and I fear that suicide will be the outcome.

The government is looking at opioid pain relievers as harmful substances.  When these medications are illicitly used and abused there is a problem.  That problem does need to be addressed.  However, as harmful as those medications have been for some, they are just as helpful for others.  We do not need laws restricting or banning opioids; we need a nationwide effort to ease the suffering of those who are in pain.  We need doctors and practitioners who are trained in proper use & dosage of pain medication, as well as alternative pain treatment. 

Physicians need to look at chronic pain patients as individuals, just as they do with other patients.  Each condition varies in severity and everyone metabolizes drugs differently.  Please allow doctors to prescribe the medications Ray needs to survive so can be the husband and father he wants to be.  His children and I deserve that, as does he. 

Marlee and Ray Hanson live in Montana.

Pain News Network invites other readers to share their stories with us.  Send them to:  editor@PainNewsNetwork.org. 

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

What to do Before Seeing a Doctor

By Barby Ingle, Columnist

When I first started having chronic pain issues, I would go into the doctor’s office and expect them to fix me. But we were talking two different languages and I was getting nowhere fast.

Learning to communicate with your doctors is important in your treatment plan. To do this most effectively, it is important to prepare. Improving your communication skills will lead to better treatment and pain relief.

Before seeing a doctor, try to put your thoughts in order so that you can accurately describe what you are experiencing. On days like the past few weeks, when I am in a full body flare and my pain is very high, my brain starts to mess up my words and even normal conversations become difficult.

Times like these made me realize that I had to get organized and prepare a checklist for my doctor visits. It’s part of becoming your own best advocate.

You can start by answering questions, such as “What did I do since I last saw this doctor?” Review past treatments and ask yourself, “Are they working and what makes the pain better or worse?”

It is good to keep a journal of your activities and pain levels so that you can reflect on these questions. Keeping a journal helps me organize my thoughts and answer these questions more precisely and accurately.

When you keep track of your pain, you gain a better understanding of what causes it, and what activities help or hurt. Prepare a personal history, be brief, and stick to the needed information on your checklist. If there are any concerns about your medications or if you would like to try a different medication you have researched, be able to explain why to your doctor.

Another important step is getting your emotions under control. I have found that if you go into the office showing frustration, anger, anxiety or other negatively perceived emotions, the doctor will be less likely to provide you with useful tools. Providers will focus on your mental status first.

I experienced this phenomenon a lot in the beginning of my search for proper treatment and diagnosis. So many doctors said, “Do you want to get better?” or “It is all in your head, so I can’t help you.” One physician even told me, “Try a different doctor. I am stumped and these symptoms don’t make sense.”

Letting your emotions get the best of you at the doctor’s office will create trouble. If you prepare ahead of time, you may still have these emotions, but you will be better able to keep them under control. You will also have a more productive doctor visit by staying on track and progressing forward with a treatment plan.

Go into the appointment having evaluated yourself and your symptoms. Keep yourself in check, stay calm and positive, and assist the doctor with finding the answers so that the outcome will be more beneficial for you.

Every provider is not the same. One of the most important decisions confronting patients who have been diagnosed with a serious medical condition is choosing a qualified physician who will deliver a high level and quality of medical care. Finding the "best" doctor to manage your condition, however, can be frustrating and time-consuming unless you know what you are looking for and how to go about finding it.

In the beginning of my ordeal, I followed what the doctors told me to the letter, even when I had doubts about their recommendations. My focus was on getting better and I was brought up to believe that doctors knew better and had all the answers. It took me almost three years after my accident to realize that this was a complete myth. Healthcare providers are human too, and they can make mistakes.

When preparing to see a provider it’s important to know your needs so you can be assertive and ready to listen to their instructions while in their office. Try to find a close friend or family member who can attend with you or record the exam on your smartphone so you can refer back to it between appointments.

The day before or on the morning of an appointment, write your questions out. I create a one page checklist that includes my medications/dosages, what I need a refill on, current issues, ongoing issues, past procedures, and questions. I use this checklist to guide my appointment so I cover everything important. I put my thoughts in order so that I get the best care possible.

Another time this comes in handy is in an emergency situation. About a month ago, I had to head to the emergency room after breaking my foot. I was simply walking in my house and walked into a wheel of a suitcase. My bones are fragile and I knew instantly from the sound and the pain that my foot was broken. I grabbed a copy of my latest checklist and headed out the door.

When the nurse came in to take my history and vitals, the pain was overwhelming, but my checklist answered most of her questions. I didn’t have to concentrate on making sure she got the right information, as my brain was clouded with severe pain at the time. That helped her help me. Being prepared is an essential element for proper diagnosis and treatment.

In my next column, I’ll have some tips on what to do during the actual visit to a doctor.

Barby Ingle suffers from Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) and endometriosis. Barby is a chronic pain educator, patient advocate, and president of the International Pain Foundation. She is also a motivational speaker and best-selling author on pain topics.

More information about Barby can be found at her website.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

The Top 5 Questions Pain Patients Want Answered

By Pat Akerberg, Columnist

I’m sure you recognize them, the questions that invade your mind and take you down rabbit holes digging for real answers.  With our worlds turned upside down by chronic pain and/or illness, we want the kind of answers that make sense of our new reality.  We’re convinced finding those answers will somehow turn us right side up again.

So we ask various versions of why, how, what, where, and who questions.

Perhaps the question that haunts the most is the slippery “Why?” question.  It’s not long after you have a name for the source of your suffering that you ask, “Why me? Why did this happen to me?”  That question makes it very personal, like we were victims purposely targeted. 

It’s as if we believed that we were somehow immune, operating in a protective bubble that shielded us from all potential harm.  And when that bubble burst, an unexpected, unthinkable, and undeserved betrayal was visited upon us.

Why questions are slippery because they hold us captive in the lore that there is an answer that can be known with absolute certainty.  And they presume that having such an answer in hand would create a better outcome or even change it.   More often than not, why questions simply frustrate because most speculations masquerading as answers feel inadequate, unsatisfactory, and leave us wanting something more definitive.

One day I asked myself exactly who was I expecting to give me the answer to my “Why me?” question.  Was there anyone who could tell me with reliable authority whether it was my genetics that set me up for trigeminal neuralgia? Or was it my severe auto accident, a blood vessel pressing on my trigeminal nerve, the hefty amount of stress in my life, or a combination of all of those factors? 

The realization finally dawned that I wasn’t going to get the actual answer to “Why me?”

So with the biggest question unanswered, I moved on to the next questions.

If not why, then how did this happen to me?  How questions beg for specific factors that explain how the chronic illness came about, how the horrible pain started.

Sometimes I still ask myself how it is that I didn’t see or feel this coming, as if I could have.

Without one clear precipitating event, how questions have a tendency to defy real answers too, so they begin to give way to the more practical inquiries.  Once I crossed over into the “what” questions, being more proactive became possible. 

What questions identify potential actions that we can consider taking.  I started by asking, “What now?”  What options do I have?  What kind of specialist do I need to see?  What medications and/or treatments have the best track record?  What kinds of risks might be involved?  I searched for what I could read to help me learn and understand more about my condition.

Each of those what questions laid out paths to pursue for my neurological disorder and I went down all of them.  Some worked better than others and some failed me completely, but that wasn’t from lack of trying.

The what questions that aren’t very helpful are the “What if?” ones.  That’s because in my experience they tend to dredge up fears of worst-case scenarios or self recrimination.  Asking yourself “What if I had only (fill in the blank)” is an example of punishing self doubt for impossible to forecast outcomes.

Certain answers to what questions will automatically cause us to ask “where” questions.  Where questions are those that attempt to pinpoint a location or direction for us to investigate. 

For instance, if there’s a specific treatment or surgery, where are the best medical centers for those?  Or, if medication or treatment didn’t work, it’s time to tale stock and ask “Where do I go from here?”  Sometimes we can benefit by asking where to find support groups (in person or online) to connect with people dealing with the same issue.

When at an impasse, we find ourselves stepping back to process all we’ve been through by asking ourselves where we fit now or where our situation is taking us.

It seems that where questions naturally fold into questions that ask about who.  Who questions have a direct purpose; they are asked to locate an expert with a solid track record that might offer help.    

We ask others with successful outcomes who they were treated by or who operated on them.  We wonder who we will relate to the most when we join a support group or who might offer the best help or resources for assistance.  

Over time, I even came to wonder who among my dwindling friends would stay with me for the long haul. 

However, the most important who question that I continue to ponder now is, “Who am I now that this progressive, painful disorder took over my life?”

I would say that the jury is still out on that answer.  But I’m working on it, as I’m sure many of you are too.  And it’s not surprising that sorting out answers to an internal core question like that would involve asking ourselves those same five questions in search of meaningful answers we can accept:

1)  Why would I think I was immune from harm?

2)  What have I learned that I wouldn’t have otherwise?

3)  Who do I want to be in response to this life change?

4)  Where are these important insights taking me now?

5)  How do I choose to reframe this experience and my purpose?

Pat Akerberg suffers from trigeminal neuralgia, a rare facial pain disorder. Pat is a member of the TNA Facial Pain Association and serves as a moderator for their online support forum. She is also a supporter of the Trigeminal Neuralgia Research Foundation.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

Why I Hate February

By Crystal Lindell, Columnist

I effing hate February. First of all, it should be spelled Feburary. It’s called phonics, people.

And then, everyone who is happy and well-adjusted gets to brag about the fact that they found true love for a whole freaking day. The Bears are never in the stupid Super Bowl. And there are no longer any Christmas lights to get us through the eternally dark days.

Also, it’s the anniversary of when I first got sick.

I guess that’s the real issue. I will forever associate it with the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Sorry, February.

Feb. 4, 2013 was the day I went to the ER, and it means it’s been three years exactly since I first woke up with rib pain. Even though I’ve been doing better lately, I’m still extremely broken — both physically and emotionally. My ribs still hurt if I do too much, or get too stressed, or rain is coming, or Pretty Little Liars gets too intense.

And I’m having the worst anxiety from the long-term morphine withdrawal. 

Like anxiety attacks that leave me crying in the middle of Target on a Friday afternoon for no reason, other than the fact that I have convinced myself that I’m never going to get married or have kids, and that I will likely die broke and alone in an apartment filled with old newspapers and cats. And I’m allergic to cats.

It sucks.

Every day when I wake up I have to constantly tell myself: Today is a new day. The sun is up — again. The sun always comes up. And today you get to start over. Today will be better.

I have been trying to look back over all the progress I’ve made since last year at this time — I lost weight! I feel mostly better! I got out of a relationship that needed to end! But I usually just end up thinking about what my life would have been like if I had never gotten sick.

My painniversary is one of those days that stop me in my tracks. It’s bigger than New Year’s and more stunning than my birthday every year.

It’s one of those days where I woke up three years ago assuming my life was just going to go according to plan, but instead the world ended. It’s the kind of anniversary nobody expects to ever have.  

They say that Virgos are really hard on others, but it’s only because they are hardest on themselves. As a Virgo, I can tell you that it’s true; I’m totally judging you, but it’s only because I think I suck.

I should have lost more weight by now. I should be married with kids by now. I should have finished my freaking book by now. How come I can’t get completely off the morphine? What is wrong with me? These are the thoughts that constant anxiety and horrible pain plant in your head.

I wish it was different. I wish I was a cliché motivational poster or something and I could write about how I’m a better person now — a stronger, more compassionate person. How being sick made my faith stronger and made me amazing. But that’s not real life. Being sick didn’t make me stronger. It made me weaker and it broke me into a bunch of shattered pieces and it’s going to take a long time to put me back together.

I’m using this app called Calm to try to meditate. I even paid $9.99 for a month worth of extended meditations. I’m forcing myself to work out. And I’m trying to write through all my emotions.

But at the end of today, it’s still today. The three-year anniversary since I first woke up with rib pain, went to the ER and everything I ever knew got all effed up. 

Tomorrow is a new day though. The sun will come up — again. The sun always comes up. And tomorrow I get to start over. Tomorrow will be better.

Crystal Lindell is a journalist who lives in Illinois. She loves Taco Bell, watching "Burn Notice" episodes on Netflix and Snicker's Bites. She has had intercostal neuralgia since February 2013.

Crystal writes about it on her blog, “The Only Certainty is Bad Grammar.”

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

How I Found Hope for Fibromyalgia

By Lynn Phipps, Guest Columnist

The year 2004 began for me a decade-long nightmare. Bedridden with severe body pain and disabled from 3 migraines per week, I lost my career as a social worker, ironically working with people with disabilities. I lived with severe pain and bone crushing fatigue daily.

Before I became ill, I didn’t believe in fibromyalgia. I was so wrong.

My diagnosing physician treated me with the standard medications for fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, post traumatic stress disorder, migraines, anxiety, depression, and pain. None of the three FDA approved fibromyalgia medications worked. A combination of Norco and Butalbital taken every 4-6 hours managed the pain and migraines, giving me some ability to function.

Over time, I was able to take the pain medications less often, every 6-7 hours. I was taking care of my hygiene, my family and home again. The pain medications allowed me to move more, which is essential for managing fibromyalgia pain. I began exercise again for about ten minutes a day.

I remained his patient for 7 years until he yelled and humiliated me when I asked for a prescription for one migraine pill while out of town. I had forgotten to pack mine. He treated me like a drug addict and called me a liar. I was stunned, as that was the only time I had ever asked him for pain medication. I fired him.

Only one physician out of thirty was willing to take my case because it was so complex. I had to wait eight months for an appointment.

lynn phipps

In the meantime, I was seen by a PAC (physician assistant, certified) at a local clinic. I also tried alternative therapies such as acupuncture, massage, and herbal remedies. I tried hydrotherapy, saw countless physical therapists and chiropractors, all claiming they could cure me. Nothing worked. I was becoming fatigued to the point that I could no longer drive to my appointments. Discouraged, I gave up all hope of getting better.

I was referred to a pain specialist whose specialty was to find the nerves causing the headaches and cauterize them. The theory was that scar tissue would then form on the nerves, blocking the pain. It didn’t work. I was afraid at every appointment that he would stop prescribing Norco because he did not believe in pain medication. One year later, he did.

I couldn’t believe that a pain specialist would take away all of my pain medications. I hadn’t misused or abused them. I took less than prescribed. It was cruel. He helped me titrate off of Norco, because studies indicate they cause rebound headaches. He was right, but I was still in so much pain that I was not functioning. Two years with no pain relief had him referring me to a pain psychologist.

The pain psychologist determined that I was not a meanderer; that, in fact, my pain was legitimate. Vindication! He then changed my life by telling me that if I were ever to get well, I had to go to a larger metropolitan area.

A google search led me to an MD in San Francisco who specializes in treating fibromyalgia. A fibromyalgia patient herself, she understood my diagnosis. She explained that she got her life and career back after two years on something called the Guaifenesin Protocol, which includes taking an expectorant drug to clear airways in the lung. It was not a cure, but followed precisely, would reverse the fibromyalgia symptoms.

The basic principles of the Guaifenesin Protocol include finding the proper clearing dosage, eliminating the use of all salicylates (a natural chemical found in plants, as well as household and hygiene products) and following a low-carbohydrate hypoglycemic diet to combat low blood sugar, which mimics many fibromyalgia symptoms.

The Guaifenesin Protocol helps sluggish kidneys excrete the build up of phosphates, which are believed to be the cause of fibromyalgia symptoms, at a rate of six and a half times faster than without it. Over time, this leads to the reversal of fibromyalgia symptoms.

For the first time in three years, I felt hopeful. The doctor examined me and agreed with the  fibromyalgia diagnosis, stating I was one of the worst cases she had seen. She also reviewed recent lab work, discovering that my blood sugar was slightly elevated. She suggested a hypoglycemic diet. Within 6 weeks of the diet, I had more energy and less pain.

I have been taking Guaifenesin and following a hypoglycemic diet for 14 months. Before I made these changes, I had 62 of the 68 most generally accepted Fibromyalgia symptoms.

I now have only 14 fibromyalgia symptoms. I am taking only four prescription medications instead of thirteen. I am off all pain medications. And I am no longer bedridden.

Lynn Phipps lives in northern California with her family. Lynn has a degree in social work and is currently helping fibromyalgia patients navigate the Guaifenesin Protocol at FibromyalgiaWellness.info.

Pain News Network invites other readers to share their stories with us.  Send them to:  editor@PainNewsNetwork.org. 

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

How to Stop Hospital Horrors

By Ellen Lenox Smith, Columnist

I am guessing many readers will be able to relate to this topic -- the horrors of being in a hospital with a complicated chronic condition like mine, Ehlers Danlos syndrome. Whether it is a planned surgery or an emergency visit, patients who do not fit into a “neat box” often find that staying in a hospital can be insulting, frightening, and at times dangerous.

If you are reading this as a medical professional who works in a hospital, I hope you will think about what it is like to be a patient in this circumstance and consider helping to change the staff’s attitudes and ways.

I will share three short stories to help you to begin to understand the horrors that can happen.

One of the most horrifying things my husband and I faced was when we flew from our home state of Rhode Island to Wisconsin to have my feet reconstructed. My life, after the surgery, was to be five months in a wheelchair, non weight bearing. It was not an easy assignment to face.

After the successful surgery, a hospital social worker was assigned to find a safe rehabilitation center for me until I was strong enough to  travel back home.

She arrived in the room four mornings later to announce that not one place would accept me because I was “too complicated” due to my drug and food reactions. As a result, I was to be discharged to home. We were sent that afternoon to a motel that turned out to be filthy. I had to use a bedpan since I was no longer able to walk and then flew home the next day. It was humiliating and also dangerous to send me home just a few days after major surgeries, but we had nothing we could do to change this.

Lesson Learned: I did, in time, write to the president of the hospital to let him know how unacceptable this treatment was. From that point on, we were given a wonderful team to help make sure this never happened again. We have returned year after year to the same hospital for my surgeries.

Another event was dealing with IV’s. Because of my condition, IV’s were difficult to hold in place and many times became infiltrated, sending medication into the surrounding tissue instead of the blood stream. One night I kept telling the nurse in charge of me that the IV was dislodged. I was told all was just fine, even though as he administered the pain medication into the IV it stung and made the location of the injection swell immediately.  

He said  to “get some rest, you are just tired.”  Well, I was right, the pain medication did not get into the blood. So, I had to suffer with unnecessary pain until an ICU nurse came down and was able to successfully get the IV catheter into a vein and stay there. This all happen in the middle of the night while I was in post op, exhausted and paying the price for a nurse not willing to listen to me and take me seriously.

Lesson Learned: Today, I no longer get an IV. We either use a PIC line or port for surgeries. They hold and work for me!

My next story involves a friend who was admitted to a hospital so sick that she was not able to get out of bed without passing out and going into seizures. Due to her complications, she was not able to get the care needed and was transported to Johns Hopkins Hospital. Within 24 hours, after a standard MRI while laying down, it was declared that she was to sit up, take the neck collar off, and be discharged.

The problem was the only way to get a true answer for what was wrong with her was to have an MRI while standing up.

After much hard work by her mom and husband, my friend was transported to Doctor’s Community Hospital; where it was determined, via the correct neurosurgeon who ordered the correct imaging, that she needed a neck fusion quickly to save her life. Yet, two hospitals wanted to discharge her home and felt she was just fine.

Lesson Learned: Be sure to get to a hospital that your skilled doctor has connections with. Don’t give up until you find the right doctor at the right hospital, for if my friend had listened to the first two places, she would not be alive today.

So what can we all do to change the potential of inappropriate treatment, or even no treatment at all?

1) Try to deal with your difficult issues, as much as you can, at home and with doctors you can trust, instead of running to a hospital. My husband and I have a pact to stay away from hospitals as much as we can to keep me safe, even though we both admit that we would so appreciate knowing we could go there safely for help.

2) If there is no choice but to go to the hospital, come as prepared as you can with files of your medical records, including lists of medications, medications you react to, supplements, diagnosis, previous surgeries, contact info for doctors that treat you, and tests done along with their dates and locations.

3) I have a packet of all this information that we keep in the car “just in case.” I also keep the records on my computer and can easily add new information when needed.

4) Make sure your doctor is part of the hospital you go to or is able to connect with the right people in the one you must get to.

5) If you have a negative experience, write the president of the hospital, not to just vent and complain, but with the intent to share issues of your care and to help educate in any way you can. Remember, if we just bad mouth them, we could potentially not be welcome at all. I had a phone call once from a local doctor who saw a negative Facebook post by a frustrated patient that included the doctor’s and the hospital’s names. The call was to ask me to take down the post, because the hospital staff were reading it and were really upset. The doctor told me we had to be careful how we dealt with this or people would reject taking us at all!

6) Write your congressman and share why being admitted to a hospital in their district is dangerous for you. If we don’t speak out, it continues and we suffer.

Unfortunately, we walk a fine line. We need to share these horror stories, but we have to be cautious how we do this. We want changes to happen, but we don’t want to turn people off by being so aggressive and so angry that they turn away from helping us or others like us in the future.

Education is constantly the theme; teach others what your condition is like, offer to speak out, and even consider a letter to the editor to share your concerns. But again, remember to think how you express these words. When somebody approaches you feeling extremely angry, you feel that vibration and want to back up. The medical team will feel this way too.

We have to be bigger people and put our anger aside to explain what it's like to be in our situation.

Ellen Lenox Smith suffers from Ehlers Danlos syndrome and sarcoidosis. Ellen and her husband Stuart live in Rhode Island. They are co-directors for medical marijuana advocacy for the U.S. Pain Foundation and serve as board members for the Rhode Island Patient Advocacy Coalition.

For more information about medical marijuana, visit their website.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

My Life as a Teen with Chronic Pain

By Stacy Depew Ellis, Guest Columnist

School, sports, music, catching up on the latest gossip. That is what I wish I could say my teenage years were filled with.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a great life. However, I was more concerned with being at school, when my last dose of medicine was, and how I was going to get up the stairs.

When I was in eighth grade, I had a traumatic accident in my dance class. After being misdiagnosed and put in a cast for almost three months, I was diagnosed with a chronic pain syndrome called Reflex Sympathetic Disorder (RSD) or CRPS.

I was sent to yet another doctor to see about treatment. It was decided that I would continue taking pain medication and start receiving lumbar injections. Little did I know that sleepless nights and several emergency room trips would also be included. I would be given more than the recommended amount of painkillers and would still be screaming in pain. Every trip back there offered more questions about a teenager being addicted to prescription drugs. Every doctor in town had seen me.

I started high school as a homebound student. I was going to school for my elective classes and seeing a teacher at my house for core classes. A lot of kids my age got hurt, most of them had a cast at some point. But my illness wasn’t visible; you couldn’t see anything wrong with me. I began losing friends and rumors spread like wildfire throughout my community and school. The worse my pain was, the worse the rumors were. It was tough, but I got through school.

STACY DEPEW ELLIS

After my 33rd spinal injection, I put a stop to the poking and prodding. The doctor hit a nerve and I was paralyzed from my shoulder to my finger tips for two days. Forty-eight hours of not moving an arm. Even more doctors came to see me and I started what would become the first of many steroid treatments.

Time went by and nothing got better. I had headaches, achiness, and started having trouble putting my thoughts into sentences. I saw a neurologist who once again started a smorgasbord of tests. Using my body as a human cushion was normal. What seemed like years of MRIs, spinal taps, and some things I have never heard of, led to the diagnosis of multiple sclerosis.

MS? Really? I was 21 years old.  My first round of treatment was a huge dose of steroids. I took 150 Prednisone pills followed by three days of IV steroids. My flare ups were bad, leaving me in the hospital for weeks at a time. I was a guinea pig for these pharmaceutical companies, injecting myself with a different medicine every month to see which worked best.

It was relieving to finally have a diagnosis and know what was wrong, but having MS is almost worse than not knowing. Heaven forbid I get sick and need to see a doctor. No one wants to treat someone with something like MS. Doctors immediately go to “it’s just the MS” and real problems get overlooked and never fixed. Honestly, the dentist even has trouble being your doctor.

I have been on medicine almost my whole life. I have been seen for depression and spent my paychecks on medical bills. There may never be a cure for multiple sclerosis and I may always be popping pills and injecting things into my stomach, but I am happy to say that I do my hardest to not let my disability hinder me. I try to not let it even be a part of me and I live my life to the fullest.

I will be on anti-anxiety medicine forever but I also believe that I can do anything that I desire. That is something that no doctor can ever take from me.

Stacy Depew Ellis lives in Alabama with her husband. Stacy proudly supports the Alabama-Mississippi National Multiple Sclerosis Society and the Ronald McDonald House Charity, which provided housing for Stacy and her mother when she was in a treatment program in Philadelphia.

Pain News Network invites other readers to share their stories with us.  Send them to:  editor@PainNewsNetwork.org. 

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

Does Chronic Pain Define Us?

By Crystal Lindell, Columnist

The strangest part about having mental health issues is that it makes you wonder who you really are as a person — in your core.

Like if you’re feeling insanely anxious because of morphine withdrawal, does that make you an anxious person? Does that become part of who you are? Is that suddenly one of the many personality traits people will associate with your character?

Or, when you’re on morphine, and it changes you from a Type A person into a Type B person, is that who you are now?  Is that your personality?

Or what about when you’re in so much pain that your patience is gone, and you realize that you are being a total bitch to everyone within striking distance. Does that make you a bitch? Is that who I am now?

I honestly don’t know who I am now.

I’ve been feeling especially unsteady lately as I try to navigate a new-found glimpse of health where I have actual pain-free days, and as I also simultaneously try to go off morphine completely. It turns out long-term morphine withdrawal is so much more emotional than anyone ever tells you.

And it turns out that I actually have no idea who I am as a person anymore.

I’m working with a psychologist and a psychiatrist, and I’m trying to figure everything out. But it’s almost like I spent the last three years of my life so completely consumed with my health issues, that I lost my identity. 

Back when my parents got divorced, I remember being in a “kids from divorced families” support group about two years after everything first went down, and the woman leading the group asked me to tell everyone a little bit about myself. And I suddenly realized I didn’t know myself well enough to answer that question.

I remember lying and saying I was involved in things I used to be involved in, like theater. I realized in that moment that I had been walking through life with my head down, with my eyes on the ground for years, and I was trying to look up and see the world around me again. I’d been so consumed by my family’s issues that it literally hurt my eyes to look up. 

These days, the setting is different but the realization has been the same. I’m on a date, or writing a Twitter bio, or talking to my therapist, and I suddenly find myself unable to answer basic questions, like “What are you interested in?” “What do you like to do for fun?” or “How would you describe yourself?”

And it hits me, that for the second time in my life, I have no idea who I am.

I know what I’m not. I’m not a youth leader anymore. I’m not Type A anymore. I’m not independent anymore. I’m not even drug free, or a practicing Christian, or living in my own place.

But if I’m not any of those things, who am I?

They say that going through hard times makes you realize who you really are as a person. If that’s true, it turns out that this whole time I was an atheist, Type B, bitch.

But I’d like to believe something else. I’d like to think that hard times are like a fire, a hurricane and maybe a bomb -- all at once — and they just destroy everything in their path. Picking up the pieces means finding lots of damaged things. It means that for a while, everything is burned, and blown up and underwater. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be damaged.

The important thing is figuring out how rebuild, and creating something new from the wreckage. It’s about figuring out what I want my soul to look like now that it’s endured an explosion. I’m not sure yet who I will be when everything gets redone — I’m not sure who I want to be.

When 2016 started, I posted a quote on my Instagram, “What is coming is better than what has gone.” 

And I have to believe that whatever I choose to rebuild, it will be better than what the pain destroyed.

Crystal Lindell is a journalist who lives in Illinois. She loves Taco Bell, watching "Burn Notice" episodes on Netflix and Snicker's Bites. She has had intercostal neuralgia since February 2013.

Crystal writes about it on her blog, “The Only Certainty is Bad Grammar.”

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

#PatientsNotAddicts Campaign Launched on Twitter

By Ken McKim, Guest Columnist

There’s a hashtag coming to a screen near you: #PatientsNotAddicts. Its importance to the millions of people who suffer from chronic illness cannot be overstated.

Words matter. Words are powerful. They can educate, but they can also blind. They can sway the opinions of millions of otherwise thoughtful and intelligent people through nothing more than simple repetition, even if the information they repeat is patently false.

In a 1992 study by McMaster University researchers, it was shown that people give more weight to something they hear repeated over and over again, than something they have only heard once. People will do this even if the person repeating the information has proven untrustworthy in the past on multiple occasions. Repeat it often enough, and a lie becomes the truth.

We see this all the time in life. It’s why advertising exists, and why politicians will never completely stop using negative campaign ads. Its how one discredited doctor was able to scare the daylights out of millions of Americans about the so-called dangers of vaccines, thus leading to a resurgence of diseases that had previously been all but eradicated, like measles and whooping cough.

This same tactic is now being used against medications that give relief to millions of people who are fighting cancer and chronic illness: opioid-based painkillers.

There’s no better way to ascertain public opinion on a subject than by Googling it. In this modern century of seemingly unlimited information, Google serves as society's mirror, reflecting back to us the truth of how we feel about any given subject. It’s not hyperbole to say that as Google goes so does the world, and this is especially true when it comes to the subject of opioids.

A recent search of Google using just the word “opioids” found that 50% of the search results had to do with addiction and abuse. Only 4% of the results dealt solely with the proper use of opioid pain medication.

It’s plain to see that media coverage on the subject of opioids skews overwhelmingly negative, and the average person researching the topic will come away with an equally negative (and unknowingly distorted) opinion of them.

It’s this negative societal view that the CDC was probably counting on to divert attention from their covert attempt to issue new prescribing guidelines to severely limit the prescribing of opioids. The webinar they held on the subject last September was an invitation only affair. No press releases were issued, and the period of time allotted for public comment was a paltry 48 hours (which was laughable considering most of the public had no idea this was taking place). 

If not for the vocal pushback from the chronic illness community and organizations like the Washington Legal Foundation, these new guidelines would already be a fact of life for all United States citizens. Sadly, these guidelines are now the law of the land for our wounded veterans, as part of the $1.1 trillion spending bill passed and signed into law by President Obama last December.

Taking opioids for pain does not automatically turn you into an addict, any more than eating M&Ms turns you into chocolate.

Chronic illness may be invisible, but the chronically ill can no longer afford to be. That’s why #PatientsNotAddicts is important. Words are powerful and repetition can be a tool for the truth as well as for lies.

Using this hashtag can help remind everyone that pain patients are ordinary people. They are your loved ones, friends, neighbors and co-workers. What they want more than anything (except for a cure, of course) is to recapture just a small piece of the life they had before their illness took hold, before the never-ending pain of their condition destroyed the lives they had built for themselves -- lives that included careers, birthday parties, graduations, playing with their kids and being intimate with their spouses or significant others.

For hundreds of millions of people, opioids help them do just that. To deprive them of that small ray of hope in the name of “protecting them” is nothing short of inhumane.  I believe we are better than that, America. Prove me right.

Ken McKim is an advocate for anyone with a chronic illness, and has made more than 43 videos on topics such as Crohn’s disease, lupus, depression, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and much more. You can see his videos at Don’t Punish Pain and on his YouTube channel.

Ken began advocating for pain patients when his wife was diagnosed with Crohn’s – and he came to realize that the chronically ill were often stigmatized by society. That realization led him to make a 32-minute video called "The Slow Death of Compassion for the Chronically Ill."

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

If I Had Cancer

By Vikki Towsey, Guest Columnist

I am not a junkie. I am not a pill seeker. I am not a doctor shopper. I am a chronic pain patient. I am a mother, a wife and a friend. I am a social worker. I work with offenders being released from prison who have HIV or AIDS. I am their advocate. I help navigate the healthcare system for my clients.

I find it odd that for my own healthcare needs I am often left on my own to mediate between my three treating physicians. No one advocates for me or helps me navigate through the labyrinth-like healthcare system. My doctors do not communicate nor do they collaborate with each other to make sure I am provided the best care possible.

I have Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS), a chronic autoimmune disorder that has wreaked havoc on my body. I went undiagnosed for 20 years, but it was not from a lack of trying to find answers to the severe back and hip pain that left me bedridden for months on end.

To say I have suffered is an understatement. My children suffer, my husband suffers, and my career suffers. This is largely due to the belief within the medical community that women do not contract AS or they have no idea what AS is.

My diagnosis came too late to prevent the damage done to my joints, which is not repairable. Ankylosing Spondylitis has also increased my chances of early mortality.

The treatment prescribed doesn't work well. I am on a biologic, sulfasalazine, and a commonly prescribed NSAID. While inflammation has decreased due to the joint damage, my pain is still severe. It disrupts my life and causes widespread fatigue.

VIKKI TOWSEY

People with disorders like mine are often fighting not only our conditions but a system that has become adversarial for many of us. Our pain has become a scarlet letter that identifies us as junkies, pill seekers, and criminals.  The CDC's proposed opioid guidelines will ensure that this continues. We are imprisoned by our suffering and endure a sentence of constantly fighting a system that is set up to deprive us of treatment that provides some quality of life.

If I had cancer, there would be widespread acceptance of any treatment that would provide improvement to my condition and quality of life. No one would think twice about writing me a prescription for opioids. In fact, not prescribing opiates would be considered malpractice. If I had cancer, I would also not be put in a federal database and I would not be looked at with suspicion by my pharmacist.

It almost creates a sense of envy for the chronic pain patient. Aside from the fact that cancer sucks, life might get a little easier for us. Before you argue that no one should wish for cancer, you are right! Cancer is horrible. So is living every day with pain so severe that it leaves a wake of victims in its path.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't choose this life. I didn't ask to be dependent on pain medications that give me the ability to take my children to a movie on a Saturday afternoon. My husband didn't ask to marry someone who cannot participate in household chores without the assistance of a pill.

I relate to the fear of asking for pain medication that will label me an addict, pill seeker, or junkie. We are let down every day by a system that is supposed to provide care for us. We are failed by doctors who took an oath to do no harm. All I want is a pain free day.  Is that too much to ask?

My life is worth more than haphazard and limited care. I demand better. We all should demand better. Our doctors should demand better. If we don't demand these things, then we just create more victims. Write to your doctor, write your representative, senators, and please write the CDC and tell them enough is enough!

Vikki Towsey lives in Virginia with her family. Vikki is a social worker, professional life coach, and co-administrator of the Ankylosing Spondylitis Project, an advocacy group for people with Ankylosing Spondylitis and other chronic illnesses.

Pain News Network invites other readers to share their stories with us.  Send them to:  editor@PainNewsNetwork.org. 

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

Miss Understood: How Arthritis Has Changed Me

By: Arlene Grau, Columnist

I've been noticing several changes in myself since turning 30 this past August, most of which are physical and have more to do with my lupus and rheumatoid arthritis (RA). I've never been the type of person who cares about her looks or what people think about me. However, when I began noticing large nodules forming on my fingers and persistent swelling around my wrists and knuckles I became more self-conscious.

It became especially embarrassing one day when I went to share how I had noticed certain nodules getting bigger and a friend said, "Wow that looks gross." I guess in a way I expected her to be more sympathetic about my situation, but some people may never understand.

I have some fingers that I can hardly bend and others that remain stiff for hours. Most of my fingers have become swollen and tender to the touch. I'd say my hands have suffered the most due to my RA and it makes life that much more difficult.

Just a few weeks ago I woke up unable to walk, so I ended up in the hospital. After having x-rays and an MRI, they ended up finding a labral tear and severe arthritis damage in my right hip, hence the reason why I couldn't walk.

I saw an orthopedic surgeon who said I can either have surgery now to repair it or get a cortisone injection to see if it helps temporarily, but based on the amount of damage my hip has I'm going to need a hip replacement in a few years. That news hit me like a ton of bricks.

ARLENE GRAU

I'm only thirty years old and I already have to mentally prepare myself for a future hip replacement? Not because I fell or because I broke it, but because my arthritis is so advanced that it ate away at my hip. It's a lot to take it. I feel like every time I've gotten tests done, whether its blood work or an MRI, they always find something that I don't want to hear about.

All of this and people still tell me that I don't look sick, they question my illness, or the severity of it. They question why I no longer work or what I do all day. They assume I must be having a wonderful time while my kids are at school. All assumptions because they either enjoy gossiping or they don't want to bother sitting down and getting the facts from me.

At a glance I may look like any other person. But up close you can see that I'm not your average mom or housewife.

My diseases have caused so much to my body. I have so many battle wounds and stories. Some untold, some I've cried about, and some I'm proud I've overcome.

My diseases have changed me. I'm not the same person I was when I was first diagnosed and I don't just mean that in the physical sense. In some ways I'm stronger because I've overcome so much and I'm going to continue fighting. But I also feel like I've aged and I'm tired of all the changes it's brought upon me.

They say change is good, but I don't think they were referring to the type of changes caused by autoimmune diseases.

Arlene Grau lives in southern California with her family. Arlene suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, lupus, migraine, vasculitis, and Sjogren’s disease.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

CDC Guideline: A Good Start that Needs Improvement

By Stefan Kertesz, MD, Guest Columnist

President Obama began his 2016 State of the Union address by referencing an American epidemic of opioid overdoses. He was right to do so. The Centers for Disease Control report that 2014 saw a record of 18,893 deaths related to opioid overdose, a category that includes both medications and heroin. Given a rising tide of deaths, it is only sensible to look closely at how opioids come into distribution. There is more than one path. Doctors write prescriptions, and the pills may be consumed properly or improperly. Or they can be sold, given to friends, or stolen. Heroin is incredibly cheap and potent these days. It’s often laced with other drugs and can cause overdose in ways that users can’t predict.

A major portion of the public health response has focused on doctors and their prescriptions (disclosure: I’m a primary care doctor trained in internal medicine and addictions). Most public health authorities believe a major contributor to the rising tide of overdoses has something to do with the prescriptions for opioids we write. Our tendency to write prescriptions for pills like hydrocodone or morphine rose precipitously from 2000 to 2011.

Everyone knows a story of someone who wheedles pills out of credulous physicians. Barring a few so-called pill mills (which alone cannot account for the rise in prescriptions), most doctors writing prescriptions for opioid pills do so in response to a patient with severe chronic pain. There are an estimated 100 million Americans with chronic pain, and between 5 and 8 million take opioids for that pain.

It stands to reason that among the patients who have received opioid prescriptions, surely some (or many) should not have received them. Many doctors have decided to prescribe less, starting in 2012, according to national data.

If prescribing went down while overdoses went up these past few years, it’s fair to say that there is room for argument about precisely how doctor’s prescriptions relate to overdoses. But few would argue there is no relationship at all. Thus, great hopes are pinned on the notion that getting doctors to prescribe differently (and less) for their patients with pain will be key.

Last year the Centers for Disease Control, after consulting an extensive array of experts and interest groups, prepared a draft guideline for doctors on prescribing opioids. In December they placed notice in the Federal Register seeking public commentary. By deadline on January 13, over 4,300 comments were received.

There is a reason this document excites so much passion. In part, organizations such as the American Cancer Society project this guideline will not be voluntary, but will carry force of law.

The hope is to prevent development of addiction and overdose that devastates countless families. Yet, there are those 5 to 8 million patients who receive opioids, some of whom believe that they are at risk of losing access to a crucial medication that is helping manage their pain, improve their quality of life and overall function. As medical boards, insurers and government agencies enforce this guideline, prescribing differently from the topline recommendations is likely to become onerous, leaving many patients in the lurch.

If you listen to this conversation between this 70-year old coal miner who suffered 18 major injuries, and a chief advocate (addiction specialist Dr. Andrew Kolodny) for the reduction of opioid prescribing, you feel the tension. You will hear the distress of a man who fears being confined to bed from his pain, and the concern of an addiction doctor who believes opioid pills have done harm, not good, even perhaps to the man to whom he is speaking.

The experts convened by the CDC include many I know and respect. They have taken a fairly strong stand. They conclude that the literature shows no evidence of enduring benefit from opioids, and that measurable harms are tied closely to dose. They urge careful assessment of risk and benefit. They urge aggressive use of urine drug testing to identify patients who take opioid medication differently from intended or use illicit drugs.

In 56 pages, they say a lot more. My primary care patients include several with chronic pain, and my practice lines up pretty closely with precisely what the guideline recommends. And despite that, I feel this guideline is not yet ready, not given the power we project it to have.

For reasons I shared with the CDC, I think it reaches a bit beyond the available science in some places, neglects it in others, and misconstrues how best to translate it in the care of our patients. It risks making opioids less available to patients who are benefiting from them. It is not far from where it needs to be, but it needs improvement.

Friends, some of them national leaders in primary care, addiction and pain medicine, have urged me to publish this concern broadly.

For people interested in learning more about these concerns, I offer them in linked piece at Medium.com. I offer it to show that one can take a different stand without rejecting the science or the underlying public health commitment that I fully share with the honorable drafters of the CDC’s draft Guideline. For the readers who believe I am right, or perhaps have also misconstrued the science, I welcome your thoughts.

Stefan Kertesz, MD, is an Associate Professor at the University of Alabama at Birmingham School of Medicine. Opinions expressed are solely his own and do not represent positions of any agency of the U.S. Federal Government or the State of Alabama.

This column is republished with permission by the author. It originally appeared in Medium.com, along with the comments submitted by Dr. Kertesz to the CDC about the guideline.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

CDC Needs to Obey the Law

By Mary Maston, Guest Columnist

I am a chronic pain patient. I do not hold a law degree, and quite frankly with the pain I am always in, reading complicated law jargon makes my head ache. That being said, I was blessed with common sense.

The way that the CDC is holding secret meetings about the agency's proposed opioid guideline  is a direct violation of federal law. This has been pointed out by Mark Chenoweth of the Washington Legal Foundation, as well as other professionals that are better versed than I.

The real question here is how long are they going to be allowed to get away with it?

“Workgroup meetings are not open to the public,” a CDC spokesperson told Pain News Network, referring to two meetings recently held in secret by a newly appointed advisory group.

The Federal Advisory Committee Act (FACA) says differently:

(1) Each advisory committee meeting shall be open to the public.

(2) Except when the President determines otherwise for reasons of national security, timely notice of each such meeting shall be published in the Federal Register, and the Administrator shall prescribe regulations to provide for other types of public notice to insure that all interested persons are notified of such meeting prior thereto.

(3) Interested persons shall be permitted to attend, appear before, or file statements with any advisory committee, subject to such reasonable rules or regulations as the Administrator may prescribe.

I have yet to see President Obama, CDC director Tom Frieden or anyone else claim “national security” is the reason these meetings are not open to the public. But I know why they want to do this behind closed doors. They know that the guidelines are wrong and have upset millions of people with hundreds of incurable diseases and conditions that are already struggling under heavy scrutiny. They don’t care about that and continuously turn a deaf ear to those who are pleading for them to stop what they are doing.

Are they even going to read and take to heart over 4,300 comments left mostly by actual patients and caregivers of chronic pain patients on regulations.gov? Do you want to know why more comments weren’t left and why many were written anonymously? It’s because many people are terrified to go against the government and they are afraid of retaliation. They already have such a difficult time finding a doctor that is willing to prescribe opioids that they don’t want to do anything to further rock the boat.

If you join any support group for any chronic illness – just pick one – there are hundreds of them, it won’t take long to realize that overprescribing is not the issue. Join my group, where pain is grossly undertreated, if treated at all, and it’s a daily discussion by a multitude of people from all sorts of backgrounds. Overprescribing may have been an issue in the past, but not anymore. The DEA made sure of that.

The CDC and the addiction specialists that helped draft the guidelines don’t care that in their efforts to save thousands of people from addiction they are sentencing millions of pain patients to a life of agony. They’ve admitted that the overdose numbers that they spout off as validation for their actions aren’t correct, but they continue to use them as a scare tactic to advance their agenda. You can’t lump heroin users in with legitimate patients who take their medications responsibly. This is flat out lying and it is fraud.

“We have heard some concerns about the process. We’ve done a lot, but want to be sure there will be no concern about the final guidelines when released,” said Debra Houry, MD, director of the CDC's National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, who is the administrator who oversaw development of the guidelines.

Some concerns? Is this woman for real!?! They obviously had the intent to release the guideline in its original form with no thought of the millions of people it would impact so drastically. They intended to just roll with it and to hell with the consequences to people in pain. The Veterans Administration is already being required to follow the guidelines. How many post war veterans do we have that have sustained life altering injuries in battle? “Just take a Tylenol or Aleve. You’ll be fine.”

Some members of Congress think this entire covert process by the CDC is dirty, that’s why they are opening an investigation into their practices and the process by which they appointed the initial advisory panel. 

It’s about time, but it isn’t enough. I hope Congress also addresses how the CDC continues to conduct itself. It’s obvious to me and many others that have voiced “some concerns” that legal action needs to be taken against those who have intentions to knowingly and willingly hurt more people than they help, and breaking the law while doing it.

Tom Frieden and Debra Houry are allowing this circus to continue. They need to be held accountable and replaced. Enough is enough.

Mary Maston suffers from a rare congenital kidney disease called Medullary Sponge Kidney (MSK), along with Renal Tubular Acidosis (RTA) and chronic cystitis. She is an advocate for MSK and other chronic pain patients, and helps administer a Facebook support group for MSK patients.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

Power of Pain: How to Boost Your Mental Health

Barby Ingle, Columnist

Let’s face it. Living with any chronic illness is very difficult. When it also involves pain, we are bound to experience changes in our personality, mood, and mental health.

It is hard to admit that we are depressed, snap at others, and take our physical pain out on them. My husband and I spend a lot of time helping others in pain. He has said to me that if I dealt with my pain like some other people do, we would never make it. 

When I first met my husband, I had just come out of a 10 year marriage to someone else. I knew what I wanted -- to figure out what my pain was and get a cure to fix it. I had no intention of dating, let alone getting remarried. 

I have a degree in social psychology and was able to keep in mind that no matter how horrible I felt, it was not the person I was with who was at fault. It wasn’t my fault either. Sometimes things are just because they are. I made a conscious effort to go above and beyond, be thankful, and to never snap at anyone helping me or choosing not to help me, as was the case with my ex-husband. 

I also realized that I needed some tools to cope with my new life. I needed professional help and guidance. Anyone facing the challenges of chronic pain will have “situational depression.” It is normal and common. Who would not be depressed after going from healthy to disabled?

Not only that, but chronic pain affects the limbic system in our brain, where mood is processed. I found that my anxiety and depression rose along with all the other things I was losing. It was very easy to snap at others around me or blame my situation on others. 

The tools I learned through cognitive behavior therapy helped get all of those feelings under control. I saw a few counselors as well as going to group counseling with others who were facing similar situations. I looked at it as an attitude tune-up to remind me of the life tools we need for our mental capacities to function to their best ability. 

Tools that I found most helpful were setting goals, getting organized, spending time outside, meditating, not to sweat the small stuff, and finding my purpose. The “Who am I?” question was where I started. One of the best exercises a counselor had me do was write down who I was. 

I had lost everything, my job, my husband, my house, and my driving privileges. I had trained my whole life to be a cheerleader. I was head coach of a division IA university and owner of a cheer/dance training company. It was my dream and it was all shattered. 

I had the hardest time starting the assignment. What I was since I could remember was a cheerleader. That was all I was, all I knew, all I wanted to be. I couldn’t go back into the counselor’s office with nothing on my paper. But I felt as if I was nothing. I had lost my purpose and doctors were telling me I would never get it back, even though they couldn’t give me a proper diagnosis. 

I called my psychologist and said, “I am failing again, I don’t know where to start, I am nothing anymore.”

He said, “Let’s start with your faith.” 

“I am Catholic,” I told him. “Okay, write that down,” he said. “What do you like most about yourself?” 

“My teeth” I replied. He said, “Write down, I have good teeth.”

I began to see where this was going. I began to look at all the things in my life that I am. 

I am more than this pain I am in. I am more than one thing. I realized that all my life, I had one goal and one dream, but I was so much more. When I was done, I ended up with 78 things on my list of who I am. 

I learned that I am not just a pain patient, I am well rounded and I am unique. We are all unique. Most importantly, I learned I was still a cheerleader. I was just going to have to change how I achieved and continued my purpose. Who I am and what my purpose is are two separate things that intertwine, but my purpose doesn’t define me. 

I encourage people who are having trouble after developing pain to write down their goals. Write down your purpose. Write down who you are. Use it as a reminder to yourself in your toughest moment that you still are! You are important. You count. You matter. 

You can accomplish your goals. The how, when, why, and who will help are yet to be determined, but you now have something to work for. 

Take on the smaller tasks first. Whatever boulder gets in your way is passable. Don’t think I have to go through this, but how can I get past this. Over, under, around, walk, bus, train, plane, there is a way. If it is too big in the moment, break it down even more. 

You don’t have to change your dreams and goals, but you have to find a new way to accomplish them that is not necessarily the easy path. We will all have personal failures, but it’s not over until you give up. That is just part of the path you are taking. 

Let go of the worry and stress of not accomplishing what you want in a specific time frame. Just getting parts done is an accomplishment in itself. No one is perfect, even the healthiest person on earth. Live for the positivity of life and for your own mental health.

Barby Ingle suffers from Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) and endometriosis. Barby is a chronic pain educator, patient advocate, and president of the International Pain Foundation. She is also a motivational speaker and best-selling author on pain topics.

More information about Barby can be found at her website. 

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

Why I’m Afraid to Go to My Pain Clinic

By Staci Dangerfield, Guest Columnist

I have an appointment to see my pain management clinic today and I am afraid.

I am always afraid before these appointments. I am afraid I'll once again be told that I am ineligible for pain medication. I am afraid that I'll again be pressed to do trigger point injections, despite their proven inefficiencies.

I am afraid that I'll be taken off one or more antidepressants and placed on others. Though I admit I am depressed, my depression has little to do with actual hormonal or emotional imbalances and a whole lot more to do with being in constant and relentless pain.

I am afraid that I will once again be passed on to a nurse practitioner or, as happens usually, a student nurse. I have yet to meet with a doctor.

I am worried that my attempts to convey my symptoms will be met with skepticism and just as often absolute negation. I feel like I am taunted by the school yard bully: "Lose weight, exercise, use positive thinking, rest more, sleep less, be more social” and so on and so on. My tears and sobs scoffed at, to the point I am distraught, giving credence to the antidepressant regime.

I am afraid that asking once again for narcotic and opioid pain relief, a proven and effective treatment for me, will lead to the “drug seeker” label. I am afraid that the moment the treatment room door closes, I will once again face dehumanization and my legitimate diagnosis becomes a game of Russian roulette.

STACI DANGERFIELD

How much more pain can I accept before I really do lose my mind and those antidepressants that I now do not need will become my lifeline to sanity, as I force my body to endure the radically painful sub-existence the doctors took an oath to prevent? Up, up, and up those dosages go until I am no longer capable of articulating my physical pain. Not that the pain goes away, mind you, because I am emotionally too numb to fight the pain.

I once read that pain is your body's way of telling you something is wrong. So why is my body being ignored in favor of shutting down my pain receptors and as a byproduct my entire emotional spectrum?

I am afraid of having to tell the pain center that my dentist ordered me 15 Norco pills because I have a massive abscess in my tooth. Today is my pain clinic appointment and tomorrow I will have three teeth extracted. Will I be punished for accepting the precious pain relief the dentist offered?

I didn't ask my dentist for pain relief. He saw my pain. He assessed how badly I needed relief and he ordered a minimal amount of medication to last the week of antibiotics, until the extraction could be done. I am afraid of the response from the pain clinic. Like a bad girl who knows she'll be severely punished.

More than anything, I am afraid of going back to the pain clinic with hope. Hope that this time there will be time to hear me. Hope that this time I will be treated humanely and with compassion. Hope that there will be a dialog of options that includes treatment of my physical pain. Hope that I will leave that clinic with a sense of peace, with a prescription for my pain. Hope that tomorrow I can wake up with a little less pain and a bit of anticipation for a better day. Hope that government stays out of my doctor’s office.

More than anything else, I want to not be afraid. I want to believe that hope is an option again.

Staci Dangerfield suffers from fibromyalgia, neuropathy, chronic fatigue, post-traumatic stress syndrome, severe anxiety, degenerative disc disease and chronic migraines. Staci lives in Alabama with her family.

Pain News Network invites other readers to share their stories with us.  Send them to:  editor@PainNewsNetwork.org. 

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.