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A Life Larger than Pain

The Pathway from Resignation to Renewal

Chapter 1: The Power of Perceptions

The last resort of pain control strategies–altering the perception of pain–remains the most mysterious. The human mind is the most important and least understood arena of modern pain management. We all suffer from the same diseases and injuries, but we don't perceive them in the same way.

–DR. FRANK T. VERTOSICK, JR.[1]

THERE IS NO SUCH THING as life without pain. But for those in acute or chronic pain, there is no real life possible without some relief from its relentless punishment.

I am a pain doctor. My specialty is one of the most rapidly growing areas in medicine. The suffering individuals who walk through the door of our clinics come to us because their pain won't go away and they don't know where else to turn. For many of them, we are the last stop on a long journey of medical evaluations, procedures, and prescriptions. They are losing confidence in healthcare providers. They are losing hope.

A woman walks into our examining room for her initial appointment. She is a professional woman in her early fifties and CEO of her own successful business. She has worked hard to get where she is in life. She has done all the right things, and they have paid off. Just when she reaches the peak of her accomplishments and begins to enjoy her hard-earned satisfaction, she is struck with excruciating back pain. Her life has virtually come to a halt.

The problem began when she herniated a lumbar disc. Due to increasing weakness in her right leg, the neurosurgeon performed a disectomy. Unfortunately, she developed some scar tissue around nerve roots after the operation. This consequence led to a different but more severe pain than she had originally endured. In an attempt to alleviate this new pain, she underwent yet another surgical procedure. There was some temporary relief within a few weeks, but the pain came back again, this time in a slightly different pattern–nagging, constant, and lacerating. The problem just won't go away.

I can hear in the tone of her voice and see in the lines of her face that she is disillusioned and afraid. She has done all the right things, but they did not help her with her pain and suffering. In fact, she now has more intense pain, of a different quality, than she had prior to entering the healthcare system. Depression has set in; she has trouble sleeping; she cannot concentrate on her work as she once did; and she has no energy for relationships.

The pain seems to be taking over her life. She is worried about how she is going to keep her business going, because there is only so much she can delegate, and the stakes are high. But she is fresh out of medical and emotional resources for dealing with the pain. The surgeon who performed her back operations is out of ideas. There is nothing more he can do for her, she is told. She is angry at the feeling that others simply expect her to get over it. In fact, she suspects that some think it's all in her head. This is especially frustrating for a woman who has spent her adult life priding herself on her clear-headed realism. It is humiliating to feel that she is perceived as a hypochondriac. She didn't get this far in life by feeling sorry for herself or making up problems–quite the opposite. But the pain is beyond her control, and no matter what it only gets worse. As a last resort, she has been referred to the Pain Center in Santa Fe.

During our initial visit, in the process of listening to her story and performing a thorough neurologic and physical exam, I become convinced that her pain is all too real and her depression profound. I conclude that placing a needle at the scarred nerve and injecting anti-inflammatory medication under x-ray guidance (a transforaminal

epidural) might alleviate some of her pain temporarily. It might also down-regulate the pain cycle, which would quiet the pain messages that her body is transmitting back and forth between the site of the problem and the brain. In the long term, however, it is clear to me that my mission is to help her open up to some psychological, behavioral, and eventually spiritual resources that may expand what she now considers very contracted options.

In order to accomplish this mission, my initial challenge at the outset is to give her a sense of hope–a tiny thread of inner renewal she can grasp hold of as we start our journey together. For her, I will play a new role as a medical practitioner: not a fix-it specialist who cures her problem, but a facilitator who helps her catalyze her own powers of healing. I will help her rethink her current circumstances, reframe her pain, and learn to draw upon her own inner resources. She is not even aware of these resources right now, because her perspective is so cramped by the incessant pain and its accompanying discouragement.

My goal in this initial visit is that when she walks out the door, she will feel that far more has taken place than the fatiguing routine of yet one more physical examination. I want her to be touched beyond the merely physical routine of examining symptoms and gathering data. I want her to have a much different experience than what she has been conditioned to anticipate from the medical establishment.

I know this woman will have to face the reality that although there is a great chance of healing, there may not be a cure. She will evolve, but it will be frightening to leave the concept of cure behind–the assumption that there is a procedure or medicine or shot out there somewhere that will entirely eliminate her problem. We have a long road ahead to walk together. But I know that as she lets go of her hopes for being cured and moves toward the truth of the realities she must live with, the process will catapult her into emotional and spiritual growth beyond her previous expectations. She will have a new and different energy for her work and her relationships as she evolves into healing of the mind and heart, even though it may not entail the physical restoration she has been seeking.

the problem that won't go away

The lead article in U.S. News and World Report, March 17, 1997, was titled "The Quality of Mercy. Effective pain treatments already exist. Why aren't doctors using them?"[2] The writer cited the staggering costs of unrelieved suffering: 34 million people in the country suffer from chronic pain. Each year, millions seek relief at hospitals or pain clinics. Back pain, migraine, and arthritis rack up medical charges amounting to $40 billion annually. Chronic pain accounts for one-fourth of all sick days taken–50 million lost work days.

The American Academy of Pain Medicine estimates that pain costs the American people $120 billion each year.[3] Only one-third of persons suffering with chronic headaches seek treatment. Nearly 90 percent of all diseases are manifested through pain.

The experience of pain is a reality for every human being. It will happen to each of us: today, tomorrow, years from now in the aging process, or through the suffering of a loved one. Biologically, pain is a virtual certainty–as universal as eating and sleeping.

One in five Americans currently lives with chronic pain. At least 14 percent of these sufferers have headaches severe enough to miss work and to qualify them for some disability. Millions of Americans have low back pain or pain associated with whiplash, Herpes zoster, peripheral neuropathies, cancer, or with chronic diseases such as AIDS, diabetes, and arthritis.

I propose that we rethink how we approach pain, how we try to alleviate it, and how we understand it. I would like to question our conventional assumptions and responses by exploring how much they are influenced by cultural values we have uncritically assimilated. I want to point out that over time, and across other cultures, this problem has been dealt with in very different ways–and, in many cases, more creatively and effectively than in our current society, which seems to focus narrowly on the goals of pleasure and immediate gratification. Within the borders of our own country, there is enough cultural diversity and richness to offer significant opportunities for cross-cultural observations of the

differences in how various ethnic groups and religious traditions deal with the problem of pain.

For all those who at the most common level share the experience of vulnerability to pain, I hope to awaken the thought that pain is not simply a negative physiological and psychological response to injury. Because pain has been with us since childhood as an inevitable and regularly occurring fact of life, we are so close to it that we cannot see the forest of meaning beyond the trees. We respond rather than reflect. We flee rather than find reason to stay within the moment and understand more deeply this very universal human experience.

our pain phobia

As Americans have progressed into more pleasure and less discomfort, our comfort zones have narrowed considerably. Two generations ago, before air conditioning and central heating systems, people experienced the seasonal changes of temperature extremes and lived with discomfort as part of daily life. Severe cold or heat was simply a part of the cycle of nature. Now, our technology has enabled us to insulate ourselves from extremes. We like our indoor temperature to hover around 73°-74° F, and only a utility crisis will get us to change it.

This accommodation to physical comfort is representative of the way our society deals with discomfort in general. We are out of practice in dealing with it on a daily basis. In our pleasure-seeking society, we are less likely to bump up against the ordinary hardships and privations our great-grandparents took for granted. We have no idea that there may even be some pleasure outside the comfort zone.

Our society is pain-phobic as well as aging-phobic. We tend to associate pain with deterioration and aging–a process our culture fears rather than honors. But the best way to disarm fears about terminal illness and possibilities of great pain is to face them in advance, to prepare for them, and to think about death as a naturally-occurring part of life. Aside from grieving personal loss and sharing others' grief in community, one of the reasons we go to funerals may be our psychological need to prepare for death. The proliferation in recent years of books on death

and dying reflects the dearth of ways our society offers for preparing and undergoing this universal experience.

In the United States, advertising feeds our dependence as consumers by conditioning us to believe that staying healthy is a complicated matter beyond the grasp of the average person. We are obsessed with maintaining physical health, as if vitamin supplements, carefully calibrated exercise, the perfect blend of herbal remedies, pain killers, and a trillion dollars annually invested in medical expertise are necessary to prop up our fragile existence. I wonder if most of us would do just as well by practicing periods of solitude, silence, and simplicity.

In Western society we tend to speak about body, mind, and spirit as separate categories. In the last few decades there has been a trend toward holistic integration of these components of the human person, largely because we have treated them in isolation from one another. In Santa Fe, where I live, the communal melting pot is strongly flavored by Native American cultures. Compartmentalizing existence is alien to Native Americans, who view such Western fragmentation with wry amusement. To them, reality is all one, and everything in life has a spiritual basis. Body and mind are not spoken of independently from the spirit.

The Native American's spirituality is the entire matrix for their existence. They see this spirituality in animals, trees, and nearly everything that goes on in life. The processes of body and mind follow naturally from the spirit, at the center of this matrix. Pain is not an alien and fearful enemy but a natural dimension of life in this world, an aid in preparing for life in the next world.

shifting perspective

Medical sociologist M. H. Becker speaks about the new cult of physical fitness, diet, and maintaining one's best chance for health.[4] The current emphasis in healthcare promotion is risk reduction, self-discipline, and motivation to attain health. Becker says this new focus fosters a dehumanizing self-concern that substitutes personal health goals for more important human society goals. It is a new religion in which we worship

ourselves, attaining the nirvana of good health through disciplined devotion to diet and exercise. Illness is punishment.

This new religion of individualism emphasizes health spas, beauty aids, the ideal diet, and the perfect combination of herbs–the pursuit of a narcissistic self-actualization at the expense of a better balance with spirituality, with community, and with relationships. Adherents to this religion are especially unprepared to face the trials of disease and deterioration. All their hard work in observing the dos and don'ts has led not to the promised immunity from suffering, but to the bitter taste of defeat.

Our technological age has bred in us a preoccupation with technique and created the illusion that we are in control of our lives. It has fed our sense of entitlement to long life and physical beauty. Ancient wisdom recognized the shortcomings of such a perspective. "No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it," cautioned the Roman philosopher Seneca. A Latin proverb asserts, "He who lives medically lives miserably." The rapid trend toward specialization in medicine has brought disadvantages along with benefits. Attention has shifted from the person to the body parts: instead of treating a whole human being, we diagnose ailments in discrete organs, systems, and functions. Patients are left to sort out conflicting opinions and batteries of procedures without much help in sizing up the whole picture or integrating a bewildering array of data.

Medical fragmentation has carried over into pain management, one of the newest specialties in the medical establishment. Pain medicine integrates a mechanistic, technique-oriented approach with mind-body practices to complement localized treatment of specific pain sites. But the unique suffering of those in chronic pain affects them in all areas of life-physical, mental, and emotional. Managing this suffering rather than succumbing to it requires cultivating inner strength and developing a transcendent framework of understanding.

Along with the development of penicillin and the polio vaccine, the most significant medical advances of the past century include the twelve-step approach to treating addictions. The Alcoholics Anonymous (AA)

movement has had a profound influence in helping millions of people to become functional members of society again. Although it is spiritually based, it uses concepts and language that include a wide spectrum of belief and unbelief in a divine being while affirming a reality that transcends the individual. Stepping outside one's own framework is crucial, because self-deception is what keeps the addict from recognizing and managing addictive behavior. By affirming the need for a greater power within a supportive group therapy setting, the AA program frees people to look beyond themselves and embrace powerful opportunities for healing.

The recovery movement blossomed as alcoholics discovered that through this experience of pain and suffering, their lives became more meaningful than they had been before the onset of the addiction, because the consequent personal growth extended into all aspects of life. In this process of overcoming, many individuals discover new and untapped potential.

Entrenchment in chronic pain is not unlike alcohol dependency in that sufferers are consumed by a concentration on self–specifically, they are fixated on the body. The technical term for this is "somatically-focused." If pain patients can get outside themselves by redirecting their focus onto a greater power, they can begin to break the stranglehold of their entrenchment.

Pain physicians can help entrenched chronic pain patients to focus beyond the body through interdisciplinary therapies. Behavioral psychology, physical therapy, and cognitive treatment–to name just a few–create fertile ground for a patient's individualized recovery process. They help individuals get outside the framework of their pain and view it from a distance, giving them the chance to see glimmers of color beyond the dark and gray world to which they have been confined.

In 1988, Dr. John Riley and his colleagues at Brown University studied the association of a chronic pain diagnosis with physical impairment (i.e., the inability to do certain kinds of work).[5] They found that many patients believe pain automatically implies impairment. Yet the bedrock of treatment for chronic pain–reactivation or increasing appropriate

activity–is the opposite of impairment. Our society bombards us with quick-fix promises and miracle cures. We have been conditioned to look for something that will make the pain go away, fast. We associate pain with shutting down, not with increasing our levels of activity and mobility.

Effective treatment of acute and chronic pain generally requires a fundamental shift in perspective. It is not easy to change your way of looking at life–advice and information alone are not enough for most of us to do the hard work of personal growth. My own greatest changes have come from the crises of major transitions and life-threatening events.

We might not be able to change the fact of pain, but we can change how we allow it to affect us. Most of us are not very good at doing this, because we have been acculturated with the expectation of a pain-free life.

reframing reality

"As he recovers from chronic fatigue syndrome, Keith Jarrett produces a CD of simple grace," reported Time magazine in a profile of the jazz pianist.[6] For over two decades the internationally-renowned musician had cultivated a highly successful performance and recording career. Then he was stopped in his tracks by an illness that came on suddenly and would not go away. He entered a long night of suffering, unsure if the day would ever dawn when he could play again.

After two years he began making improvements, but they were painfully slow. "Basically, I can't do my work," he told Time reviewer Terry Teachout. "But I'm doing dribs and drabs of it. I can do a little more all the time." He began recording again in the effort to give his wife a Christmas present, so tired that he could manage only a few minutes per session. And then a miracle occurred. "Something started to click with the mike placement, the new action of the instrument–I could play so soft–and the internal dynamics of the melodies of the songs. It was one of those little miracles that you have to be ready for, though part of it was that I just didn't have the energy to be clever." The fatigue seemed to shift the center of his creativity from the intellectual to the intuitive. Jarrett described the event in the language of purification: "It's almost as

though I was detoxing from standard chordal patterns. I didn't want any jazz harmonies that came from the brain instead of the heart."

This is a striking illustration of a reversed perspective on pain: from an enemy that shuts down options to a catalyst for new directions. Although we would not wish such an agent of change on anyone, we can celebrate what emerges from the suffering. "Rarely has a jazz album come so directly from the heart," raved Teachout. Chronic fatigue changed the way Keith Jarrett played his music, and something new and lovely came from it.

Reframing reality involves letting go of previously held expectations of what life would be like. This is a painful and difficult process. But it contains the seeds of hope, because it nurtures openness to what may be given to us in the present. From the ashes of dashed hopes, new ideas and hidden gifts may emerge. Some gifts are all the more precious because they are unexpected.

Those in constant pain don't have the luxury of ignoring the difficult lessons of life. Because they are forced to live outside their comfort zone, they have an opportunity to glimpse what lies behind the veil of everyday reality. For some, this will be a sense of eternity, renewing their perspective on the here-and-now. For others, it may be confronting head-on the issues of personal growth they have been avoiding, or changing priorities while there is still time to focus on what ultimately matters.

*     *     *

At the end of our initial consultation, my new patient leaves with a prescription for temporary pain-relief and another appointment. Next time we will explore cognitive skills for dealing with pain, such as biofeedback, hypnosis, and relaxation. I will discuss with her some ways in which she can gradually become physically active again, both in working around the pain and in working through it. We will review the anatomy and physiology of her pain problem, so that she understands what kinds of procedures might decrease, or down-regulate, her pain. And I will begin listening for her spiritual kernel.

Later that day while driving home, I remember the desperate look on her face when she said to me, "Doctor, the pain just keeps getting worse. What am I going to do?" I counteract her despair by visualizing the opportunity I have to help her. In the process of facilitating her transition from raw pain and suffering to personal and spiritual growth, I will watch her learn to celebrate her uniqueness. If we are successful, what loomed as defeat will lead to renewal. This is the paradox at the heart of the pain experience.

I am choosing to take the journey of transformation with my patient. I know there may be periods of marked discouragement and disappointment for her. The threat of failure will weigh heavily on me as well. Physicians are as ego-driven as anyone else, and it would be much easier to practice in a more concrete, cause-and-effect environment–when someone has appendicitis, you take the appendix out. The before- and-after with an appendectomy is clear, and it feels much better than persevering through the uncertainties of discovering which drug may help and which procedure will promise a benefit outweighing the risk. But with tenacity and divine guidance, I trust that together she and I will walk through and overcome the obstacles of discouragement and frustration.

It is exciting for me to see patients evolve, each in a profoundly unique way, beyond their pain and suffering. It's like watching the desert bloom after a rain, changing immediately from a desolate landscape to one of surprising luminescence. My job is to help pain sufferers move beyond the cramped confines of a life constricted by pain to arrive at a new sense of wholeness. Each time this happens, it is a sacred event. Our Western culture tends to view pain as a mechanical problem–diagnose the origin of the injury and apply scientific expertise to eliminate the cause or repair its results. But the process of transformation extends beyond the physical plane. The most significant work I do as a pain doctor takes place where the limits of technological expertise meet the power of the human spirit.


Steps For The Path:

evaluate your perceptions of pain

To help you experience what you are reading, an interactive section- containing self-test exercises, questions for reflection, and suggestions to help strengthen body, mind, and spirit for pain relief–follows each chapter. You may find it helpful to use a separate journal or spiral-bound notebook as a place to record the steps you take along the path to a larger life. In addition to recording responses to questions at the end of each chapter, try writing in your journal frequently. Record what a good day is like and what a bad day is like. Observe any initiatives you made to manage pain, and when it seemed that the pain was managing you.

Choose a minimum level of regular entries, such as simply rating your pain on a scale of one to ten each day. This step alone can give you a sense of accomplishment in moving forward, helping to offset the sense of being trapped or stuck. When you look back across days and weeks, you may notice helpful patterns. Write them down.

If you are inclined to do so, pray about the steps you take to move from entrenchment to renewal. Consider asking a friend to encourage you by meeting with you regularly to talk about how you are doing with the Drag-Down Ds (see chapter two). Tell your doctor or healthcare provider what you're doing and what you're learning from it.

1.

Today, I would rate my general pain level as:

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

pain free

excruciating pain

2a.

Use the statements on the next page to help you evaluate how your pain affects your general well-being. For each statement, check the box for the response that is most true for you.

 

 

Always

 

usually

 

sometimes

 

seldom

 

never

I feel a sense of hope for the future.

 



 



 



 



 



I have a strong sense of self-worth.

 



 



 



 



 



I have confidence in my ability to accomplish the tasks of everyday living.

 



 



 



 



 



I am generally satisfied with the quality of my relationships.

 



 



 



 



 



I am able to take responsibility for my own wellness.

 



 



 



 



 



I can take initiative in pursuing alternatives to drugs for managing my pain.

 



 



 



 



 



I feel a sense of wholeness and purpose in my life.

 



 



 



 



 



2b.

Review your answers to the chart above. What are the most significant ways in which your pain shapes your attitudes and perspectives?

3.

Do you agree or disagree that changing your perceptions of pain can change your experience of pain?

 



[1] Frank T. Vertosick, Jr., M.D. Why We Hurt: The Natural History of Pain. New York: Harcourt, 2000, p. 261.

[2] Shannon Brownlee and Joannie M. Schrof. The Quality of Mercy. US News and World Report, March 17, 1997, pp. 54-67.

[3] A Brief Guide to Pain Medicine. American Academy of Pain Medicine, 4700 W Lake Ave., Glenview, IL 60025.

[4] M.H. Becker. A medical sociologist looks at health promotion. Journal of Health and Social Behavior. 1993:34 (Mar): 1-6.

[5] JF Riley et al. Chronic pain and functional impairment: assessing beliefs about their relationship. Arch Phys Med Rehabil. 1988 Aug, 69(8): 579-582.

[6] Terry Teachout. Directly from the Heart. Time, November 8, 1999, p. 139.

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