Chronic Pain and Family Responsiveness

Chronic pain and family responsiveness image. How can caregiving be different with different ages for CRPS/RSD?Written by Laura Lustig, PhD for the RSDSA blog.

Originally Titled: “Chronic Pain And Family Responsiveness: Stories Of Courage In The Face Of Unimagined Change.”

There are many types of chronic pain experienced by people all over the world, many of which have been well recognized and have treatment regimens that are prescribed regularly by doctors and allied professionals. To categorize the pain of Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (alternately referred to as Complex Regional Pain Syndrome) as chronic pain is almost a disservice.

To begin with, people suffering from this syndrome go through indescribable pain that can strike without warning and become unmanageable. Then, there is the agony of waiting for someone to diagnose it correctly because, unlike so many other types of chronic pain, it is not commonly recognized until it grows in intensity. Even then, it is still not well understood.

All of this as preamble is known to those of you out there who are experiencing the pain, and to your families who are suffering the mental anguish of going from pillar-to-post trying to alleviate your family member’s pain.  My hope is that in reading my thoughts and suggestions, you will respond and tell your stories, your actions toward relief and your questions, through me to others like you and thus become a support team for each other. Your stories should not be silent and unnoticed; they should reach the ears of medical professionals and researchers.

But to any who have not experienced personally the anguish described above, those of you who are friends, relatives, neighbors, or associates of these families- my hope is that this article will better acquaint you with what they are going through in the hopes you find incentive for assisting them in whatever ways you can offer. Even the common family duties of everyday life are disturbed by the disabling effects of this syndrome.

The Role of Caregivers: The term “caregiver” has a multitude of meanings. It can range from a service provider taking care of a disabled person, to a parent, a spouse, a sibling, a son or daughter, or other relative taking care of the individual affected with CRPS. Each of these roles are different by the nature of the category and each can vary within the same category for individual families. It has life-changing consequences. Complicating things even more, many members of the same family not in a caretaking role may have their lives changed because of their relationships within the family.

So, how does one describe the duties of a caregiver in these situations? The best I can come up with is to compare them to the normative roles of individual family members and the variations that may occur in those roles.

For example, a mother and father of a fortunate child who is healthy of mind and body are expected to nurture and train their child for increasingly independent life as he/she grows. Along the way, their needs as spouses and individuals can be attended to with increasing confidence that they will, one day, launch Junior and move onto, or continue, their own interests and relationship needs. This paradigm cannot help but be hindered when a child has more dependency and critical care needs. The question is: can a parent of this child eventually reach normative life functions? Can the child eventually find ways of becoming independent? There is no general or right answer to this question.  Each family has to find their own way through the morass they encounter. It is all too common to deal with day-to-day issues and let time go by without thinking further about the future until it is upon you. But what is important is the recognition that your roles have been modified so that better planning can occur.

At this point, I would like to further identify myself and the role I took as a caregiver in my own family, because I faced a similar question as I raised my physically and mentally challenged son. I went day-by-day, doing everything I could for him: researching his condition, talking to doctors, going to clinics in the hope of finding diverse professionals who might lend their composite expertise for the medical, psychological, social and educational needs of my son. I think that in the back of my mind, not fully consciously thought out, I was looking toward a future in which he could be successfully launched toward a life of his own, and not remain in my caregiving role for the rest of my life. I have other children, and I always wonder if I gave each of them enough attention, not to mention my husband. Eventually, I was fortunate enough for my son to be moved to a life of his own, certainly not an independent one – he will never achieve that – but, at least a life in which he has contentment, work, and home life that approaches the normative environment I wanted for him.

I went through agony, crises, family troubles, and roadblocks within the social and educational environment that may, in some ways, be similar to what many of you are going through. At some point, I found myself asking who I was before and what I became after my experiences with my son Jesse. I wonder how many of you have thought about that. If anyone wishes to learn more about my story, my book “Attics of the Mind: The Story of Mother and Her Special Son,”  is available online or at Amazon.com. I was fortunate, also, to have 2 older children who love their brother and have taken courageous roles in helping him. Their story is also available online. But, I could not have done it alone, which is why I emphasize the importance to each of you of reaching each other and some helping professionals along the way. Your solutions are not only medical; they are psychological, social, educational, and ongoing. There is always one more thing to do, I found, and you may also.

But what of the role taken by a spouse? One hesitates to call this a caretaker role, though it may end up that way. In the so-called normative environment, one marries with the idea that there will be love, family, a division of tasks in the everyday life, a companion to share the good times and bad times. The readjustment becomes obvious when one spouse is hit with CRPS. How much adjustment is dependent on the state of the illness, and more than this, the understandings between the spouses of their responsibilities to each other. This is an even more difficult readjustment than one borne out of a natural caregiving responsibility of parent to child. In each case, the spouses will face a complete change in roles. Yet here again, the backdrop of attempts on the part of both spouses to approximate as normal an environment as possible is most likely to result in more harmony between them.

In some cases, it is a sibling who may find him or herself in the role of caregiver? Here, a whole life may be unintentionally upended. He or she may have the least expectation of anything in the natural course of events to prepare for this new role. It leaves many more questions than answers. For example, where does a new companion fit in; what of the expectations for career building and family development? How much does one continue moving in these directions when the needs of the CRPS brother or sister is suffering? If there are several siblings involved, the complications can cause rifts between them. Who takes the major role; is it divided equally; are there explanations one or more siblings give for taking a lesser role? Again, no easy answers.

I haven’t mentioned the reverse order of child to parent. In the ordinary course of events, children are expected to take some responsibility for providing a basis of helping their aging parent who may become ill. There are many agencies and living arrangements which can be found to provide care for the aged, but not so many for the parent who may not be elderly but who is suffering from CRPS. This condition may exhaust or go beyond the abilities of nursing care to know what to do or to provide the amount of care needed.

So, in all of these cases, what does it mean to do a good job. A caregiver can be thrown off his or her balance when confronted with the extraordinary problems involved. Even the best of care may seem insufficient – with attendant guilt feelings, loss of confidence, and eventually, despair.

In all of these cases, it is vitally important that people in the caregiver role find other supportive help. Talking to a therapist and other professionals, intimate friends and medical people can help create better balanced judgment and relief. It is vitally important that caregivers not become stressed out to the point that their own health is affected.

I know I have raised many more questions than answers. But, I feel confident that in each family there are strengths that can be found and resources to use. Each of you out there has your own story. Many of you can help with the solutions you have found, the resources you know of, and the empathy you can lend to each other. Together much can be accomplished; alone the troubles you face can feel impenetrable.

If you would like to share your story or have any suggestions for others involved with caregiving, please email RSDSA at [email protected]

How RSD Potentially Stole My Dreams – Cope With RSD/CRPS

Tatiana blogs about how RSD CRPS stole her dreams but also about how to cope with RSD CRPSWritten by Tatiana for the RSDSA blog.

Being diagnosed with RSD/CRPS is challenging at any age. Being young and going through the challenges of school can make it hard to cope for children and teenagers. Tatiana writes about her experience being diagnosed with RSD/CRPS, her stolen dreams, and how she has ultimately learned how to cope.

When I was a young girl, only five years old, I had crazy dreams. Every single time someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d smile, and tell them that I was going to be a dancer. A ballet dancer, to be specific, though I often dreamed of ballroom dancing. Getting to wear a ballgown, heels, and having a handsome gentleman’s hands draped on my waist, as I twirled around to music over and over was beyond exciting to me. I yearned for it. I lusted for it. Something I didn’t know when I was five years old was that the daydream would have ended sooner, rather than later. I did not know that by the time I’d turn sixteen, I’d already be living with a chronic illness.

Something that almost everybody knows about growing up is that it’s hard. Sometimes, it may even seem impossible. You may even feel like you just can’t do it. Between juggling school, and just everyday life, it can be hectic and stressful. Just imagine what it’s like to go through your day with pain so horrible, you’d wish to saw off one of your limbs, in hopes of finding some sort of relief. Imagine what it must feel like to have various parts of you set on fire, but realize that this fire cannot burn out, no matter how much water thrown on it, no matter how much ice you throw into the mixture. So, you want to fight fire with fire, and throw in some heat? I’m sorry to tell you this, but that’s not necessarily going to help you either. Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, now known as Chronic [Complex] Regional Pain Syndrome, is an autoimmune disease that attacks the sympathetic nervous system. It causes the brain to constantly send pain signals to different parts of the body, but the pain that it causes is not as simple as a muscle ache or a simple sprain. Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy causes a burning pain that can be brought to a point in which one cannot take it anymore. Many people with RSD/CRPS turn to suicide as their only option, leading RSD/CRPS to also have earned the nickname of “The Suicide Disease.” Unfortunately, although I am just a child, and I am trying to grow up, although I am trying to make something of my life and finish school to move onto college, and [find] my place in the real world, I also have the burden of RSD/CRPS to carry with me.
I started to experience my pain six years ago, when I slowly lost my ability to even just walk. I had previously sprained both of my ankles, and had finally recovered. Or at least I thought. At just ten years old, I was able to say that I could watch all of my friends running around in the school yard, but I couldn’t run after them. It hurt me to a point in which the pain resembled walking on shards of glass. As a clumsy child, I, unfortunately, had the joys of knowing what that felt like. And with that I spent an hour in the podiatrist’s office, being told that it was simply a case of plantar fascitis, and that I simply needed orthotics. And so, it was orthotics that I received. I didn’t know that these would not solve my problem, though. I was unaware that my pain would come and go as it pleased, and leave me practically crippled, from time to time.

On my fourteenth birthday, I had the joy of returning to the podiatrist, after being unable to walk again. This time, I was told that I had tendinitis, and a bruised bone. I was given a note that stated for no gym until further notice and an array of braces to wear on my ankles. At that point in time, friends of mine began to question me. They’d ask me questions that not even I could answer at that point. “Tatiana, what is wrong with you?” “Dude, you’ve been out of gym for eight months, when are you coming back?” etc. For a fourteen year old, being out of gym for more than eight weeks alone was a huge deal. And when teachers started to question me and my walking boot, that I was in to prevent pressure from being put on my foot, I had no clue what to say. But as before, my pain went away for a while.

September of 2015 came around, and I was in Florida with my family, trying to have fun, and enjoy myself in the various theme parks. I’ll never forget the night that we were simply walking through Epcot, and it was as if someone had literally torched my foot. I brushed it off, thinking it was just muscle soreness, from walking around way too much, without sitting. Everyone around me was having fun, and enjoying themselves. I didn’t want to ruin the trip. So, I kept my mouth shut until the end, when all of the walking, moving, and various rides jerking my body back and forth finally took a toll on me. Throughout our plane ride home, the turbulence brought me enough pain to make me want to crawl under a rock and never leave that sanctuary that that rock would’ve brought me. For days following our return, I stayed in bed and cried. I was in so much pain and discomfort- there was nothing that I did that would alleviate it. Another trip to the podiatrist, more false hope, and more joy stripped from my already stressful life. I was missing so much from my sophomore year of high school. I was missing out on everything my friends were doing, and the places they were going. I was at a point where I could barely even do the work I was given from my teachers. I was confined to my bed, living a painful life, full of depression and tears. Every single time that I attempted to leave my house to do something, the pain crept up on my shoulder, as if it were a ghost that was dying to tease me to no end, despite the fact that I could never catch it no matter how hard I tried. My pain to me was what a little black cloud was to a depressed person. It followed me around to no end. Toying with my emotions, making me hate myself more and more, with the less and less that I was able to do.
After missing twenty three days of school, and being out of gym for two and a half years, nobody believed me anymore. My friends began to doubt me, my family, even my own mother doubted me. Though my doctor always told me that she believed me, I started to doubt myself. I started to think that this pain was just a figment of my imagination. Something that my brain decided to make up because it had nothing better to do with itself. And that, that dragged me down into this depression that I was unsure I’d ever survive. I built up my walls and locked everyone out, including those closest to me. I no longer wanted to know anybody. I’d look in the mirror and see this broken, tattered body, looking back at me. And when I’d go to turn away, I’d whisper to the soul trapped behind the shards of glass, “You are such a liar.” I was breaking my own heart and I didn’t know if I could save myself.

In April of 2016, I could no longer move from the waist up. My ankles, believe me, they were just shot… I couldn’t bend down to grab a pen that fell from my bag, I couldn’t walk up two stairs, I couldn’t even sit up to do simple tasks such as drinking a tiny bit of water. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was falling behind in school and in life. Yes, I was surviving life, but was I really living it? Not at all! I’d drag myself from my bed every single morning, and force myself to get up, to go to school, where I’d suffer for 8 hours, only to come home and cry myself to sleep. Everywhere I went, I received pitiful glances and sad stares from people who knew me and the happy person that I once was. I begged the neurologist for answers. For a solution. For anything other than pity. And finally, after 11 MRIs, 8 X-Rays, and 3 C-T Scans, I was confronted with the fact that I have Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. By then, after much research, and suggestions from doctors, I had known what CRPS/RSD was. And I knew that it was one of the most painful conditions out there. At the end of the day though, the real question was, could I actually live with this?

I am almost seventeen now, and life is hard. Life is very hard. I have to work ten times harder to complete simple tasks than most people do. Getting myself dressed is an accomplishment alone. Occasionally, when I do have an endless amount of bad days, I do fall behind in school, and it is as if I am drowning in school work and the fact that I feel the need to impress my family. I think one of the most complicated things for me, though, is trying to keep up with my friends and people my age. Sometimes, I feel like an eighty year old woman, trapped in the body of a seventeen year old girl. Yes, I have friends. Yes, they have lives. They go out, they have fun. But I don’t always want to go out. I always want to have fun, but from time to time the pain becomes unbearable, to a point in which I cannot even go to school. Of course, people question me or accuse me of being lazy, but I know for a fact that I am not that at all.

Another huge problem about being seventeen and having CRPS/RSD is painkillers. I, like most patients with my illness, depend on painkillers to live a somewhat decent life. But, with the opioid epidemic, and me being just a teenager, people often accuse me of being a drug addict or a drug dealer. My question for the people who jump to conclusions would be, just who wants to take more than fifty pills per week? I take eight pills every single day, just to live a sufficient life. That’s fifty four pills per week. Do people actually find enjoyment from that? Because I don’t. I never could. Something that people don’t realize is that aside from naltrexone, I don’t take anything crazy. I take Lyrica, and if needed, gabapentin. It’s not like I’m popping oxy every hour on the hour. This is really a huge misconception, that I honestly hope is cleared up soon.

Despite all these struggles with people and their opinions, a topic that most teenage CRPS/RSD patients will not touch on is the struggle with themselves. Despite my hope, despite my dreams, my mind is a battlefield and I am constantly at war with myself. Being seventeen and struggling with such a chronic illness leads me to have such hateful thoughts towards myself. My mind is constantly pondering why I still have to be here, if I’m only going to suffer. The second I have a flare, I freak out, and wonder if I will ever find a lover who will care about me, despite my disease, despite the fact that it leaves me paralyzed with pain, and often, in tears. This is the part where my CRPS/RSD would want me to tell you that after this, I am giving up. That I refuse to go on. This is the part where it wants me to tell you that this is the end, that I cannot win this fight. However, I am not going to give that obnoxious ghost what it wants. I am the author of this story, and I refuse to lose this fight. I have been in therapy, working on my emotions affiliated with my illness for several months now. Finally, I have learned to love myself. I have learned to ignore what people have to say. I have learned to never give in, and to never give up. The second you allow it to win, is the second that you lose yourself. Although it might be hard, although this body may be cursed with such a painful disorder, I have decided to throw away that little dark cloud, and see the light again.

At the end of the day, no matter what happens, no matter how bad you feel, or how horrific your pain is, all that matters is you. All that matters is you and the fact that you can win this fight, no matter how hard it seems. Your pain tomorrow will not be as bad as the pain that you have felt today. Your life is not going to be horrible forever. Your initials are not RSD or CRPS. And all of us fighting this horrid disease, no matter how young or old, need to know that life does not end with RSD. This is only the start of my journey, and I am terrified for what is to come, but I am ready, and I am stronger than ever. Life starts now.

If you are feeling like harming yourself, feeling suicidal, or know someone that is feeling that way, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit their website

The Club No One Wants – The CRPS Club

Jamynne, a former paramedic, details what is is like to join the CRPS club, or the club no one wants.Written by Guest Blogger Jamynne Bowles

Jamynne details her life, from being a young shy girl, to becoming a paramedic that suddenly joined a club she never asked to be in- The CRPS Club. What has life taught Jamynne? What is to come for The CRPS Club?

Growing up in Northern Virginia, I remember being the shy girl who always wanted to fit in. Overweight and pudgy, I was bullied a fair amount during elementary school.You could say I was that proverbial “fat girl” that no one wanted to play with. Unless, of course, it was kickball. I had a strong leg, so generally I was one of the first few picked. But if we played Red Rover, tag, or anything related to that, forget it. My name was the last to be called and even then, you could hear my classmates groan as I slowly walked, head down, over to their group. It didn’t stop me from trying to fit in though, and it certainly didn’t stop me from wanting to be a part of what I perceived to be the “cool kids club.” Even when they asked me if I wanted to play “Ring around the Roses” [sic] and was shoved in the middle of the group while they danced around me singing, “blubber, blubber, blubber” as I cried, I didn’t stop trying to fit in. Somehow I knew that one day it would all work out…and if I could just get through that particular moment in time, things would get better. They had to. How could it get any worse? Growing up is awkward, at best. For anyone. And kids can be very cruel. But generally, things like that don’t last long…and things do get better. Even if it doesn’t feel that way at the time.

By the time I hit the 8th grade, the pounds started falling off me. I was gaining confidence in myself. I had friends. I was sociable. I played sports. I was involved with community theater. I was very active. Rebellious, but active. You could say that I was shopping around for “clubs” to belong to. It was not a struggle anymore to find people to hang out with. If I wanted to hang out with the rebels who smoked after school, so be it. If I wanted to hang out with my teammates from the softball team, I did. Or the community theater group, for that matter. There was not a shortage of places I could go. It was a big difference from elementary school. I had choices and those choices were mine. That felt good…even if the choices I made weren’t always the best ones for me. High school was more of the same. By my senior year, I was president of the drama club, I was a proud member of our show choir, and I was still playing softball. I wouldn’t say I was “popular,” but I had a lot of friends that I enjoyed hanging out with. I guess in a way, I had “arrived.” I was finally part of the “cool kids club.”

From there, while I wouldn’t say it was easy, I was still very shy, I didn’t have a problem making friends. Or fitting in. Or meeting new people. I enjoyed the challenge of clean slates and fresh starts. So much so, that at the age of 23, I picked up and moved to New Jersey after reading an article about one of the busiest EMS departments on the East Coast. I was a volunteer EMT at the time, but knew I wanted to become a paramedic one day. And this department seemed like it was everything that I wasn’t. It was tough. Brash. Aggressive. Cut throat. I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere in Virginia and I do like a challenge. So, against my mother’s strongly worded advice, off to Jersey I went. I knew no one. I had no friends up there. I had no support system. And while I knew I could always come home if it didn’t work out, I had no intention of ever returning. I knew somewhere deep inside that I would find a way to make it work. And I did.

I moved to Jersey during the Blizzard of ’96.Looking back, I think that was probably a sign of things to come. I challenged the NJ EMT state exam and passed. I didn’t have enough experience to get that dream job, but it gave me something to strive for. In the meantime, I was hired at a transport company, and did everything I could to work my way up into EMS. I had a full time EMS position 7 months later. Once again, I was a member of the “cool kids club.” I LOVED EMS. I knew early on that it was a calling for me. A few years after moving to Jersey, and working as an EMT in urban environments, I decided my next step towards my dream job at my dream department…paramedic school. So, I applied and got into one of the most competitive programs on the East Coast and it happened to be in NYC. Since I was working in Jersey City at the time, in order to keep my full time job and benefits, I worked 12 hour shifts as an EMT on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, and then went to school Monday through Thursday…clinical were from 8am to 4pm, and then class was from 6pm-10pm. For a year. It was so hard and there were times I didn’t think I’d get through it. But giving up wasn’t something that I could do. I wanted to be a paramedic.and I wanted to work in Newark. My last clinical assessment was at World Trade Tower II. I graduated about 3 weeks before 9/11. My job, my career, and the people I met through that brotherhood meant everything to me. Wearing that uniform, having that patch on your shirt, and knowing that this may just be the day you make a difference in someone’s life was why I got out of bed in the morning. It’s a club I couldn’t imagine not ever being a part of. I read a quote once that explains it perfectly: “You’re going to be there when a lot of people are born, and you’re going to be there when a lot of people die. In most every culture, such moments are regarded as sacred and private. No one on Earth would be welcomed, but you’re personally invited. What an honor that is.” And it was. I worked in some of the most dangerous cities in New Jersey and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

I worked for Jersey City EMS when our country was attacked on 9/11. We were right across the river on that fateful day. For weeks, if the wind was right, the overwhelming smell of jet fuel and burning bodies could bring you to your knees. We were front and center to receive the thousands of survivors who came across the river on those boats. We were also receiving body bags to put into refrigerated trucks for identification at a later date. All the while grieving those we knew we lost. Day after day, night after night, week after week, we worked. And we, too, became another kind club. A 9/11 survivors club. Our whole nation did, really. This was a club I didn’t ask to become a member of, but the pride I feel when I think about the men and women I worked shoulder to shoulder with, as heartbreaking as it will always be, I can’t imagine being anywhere else…or with a better group of people.

Life, while not without its struggles, was pretty good. I became that paramedic. I had a handful of mentors who I looked up to and learned so much from. I had some great friends. I bought my first house down at the Jersey Shore. I got engaged. I got married….and then divorced. In short, life happened. But during all of that, I had that one constant- the job that I loved so much. Being a paramedic was literally in every fiber of my being. I skipped holidays, birthdays, anniversaries with family…just so I could be on an ambulance. That’s who we are. That’s what we do. We live for it. I certainly did.

In late 2005, I got the chance to become a member of that club, that one club that I’d wanted to be a part of since I was a volunteer EMT in Harrisonburg, V back in 1996. I sat for the interview, and I got the job! Finally! I worked my ass off to get there and I knew I would never want to leave. My department used to make fun of me because I was so proud to be there. These people were the best of the best at what they did, and now I got to wear the same uniform. It was such an incredible sense of accomplishment. It was, for lack of a better word, my “everything”. The ultimate “club.” Until it wasn’t. Until it became my “nothing.”

In March of 2013, I stepped off the ambulance and felt a “pop” in my knee. Figuring I tweaked it, I reported the discomfort, filled out the necessary paperwork, but refused to go the the ED. Paramedics are infamous for self treating. I am no different. I didn’t want to go out on worker’s comp. In fact, the few times that I did, I got a “return to work” time frame from the treating physician right off the bat and then used it as a challenge to beat the return date by at least 2 weeks. I was successful each time. It didn’t matter if I was ready to go back or not, I needed to be on that ambulance. It was as necessary to me as breathing. I took the weekend and iced it. I bought a TENS unit from the pharmacy and did that 3 times a day. There was something wrong. I knew it. But, I had just applied for a chief’s position and there was no way I was going out. It would heal in its own time, I was sure of it. If I had only known how wrong I was.

By May, it had swollen to twice the size. I have a high pain tolerance anyway, but it was pretty bad. Still, I managed to work my shifts…..with my partner and our amazing BLS taking on the majority of the heavy lifting. I would ice between calls but sometimes that was hard to do. When you work in one of the busiest EMS systems in the state, it’s not unusual to respond to 20-25 calls in a 12 hour shift. It’s tough to ice on days like that. On May 17th, 2013 I stepped off the ambulance for the last time. I heard a loud SNAP and I saw stars. I’m not sure what went, but I knew it was bad. Still, I hobbled home and figured I’d fix it up over the next week that I had off. The other thing about those of us in EMS is this: we are capable of being in such a state of denial, that it doesn’t matter how sick or injured we may be, it takes a hell of lot to admit that we can’t do our job. We may take a few days off to collect our thoughts, but we’ll never admit to how bad something is. And if we do, it’s really, really bad.

I ended up having surgery in June, 2013 for a macerated meniscus. I was told that the radiologist said she’d never seen such severe meniscal injury in someone who continued to work. For whatever reason, I was proud of that! 10 days post op I noticed that the pain hadn’t relented. Not only that, my entire leg was awkwardly swollen, purple, and ice cold. I have had arthroscopies before and I know how quickly I rebound. I also know what to expect. This was bizarre. I reported it immediately to my surgeon. Since I was injured at work, my worker’s comp case manager was present at the time as well. He told me that all was okay. That I needed to start PT, and that perhaps this was normal. He said my leg was stable, in good shape and gave me the go-ahead to work as hard as I wanted in PT. So I did. It didn’t get better. In fact, it got worse. Much, much worse.

While I won’t go into details because I am still a worker’s compensation case (we won our appeal to have it reopened. Unfortunately New Jersey Worker’s Comp laws err more on the side of the employer and it’s been an uphill battle from the start), I will say that I wasn’t diagnosed with CRPS until April 2014. By the time of my diagnosis, it had spread. The one thing we do know about CRPS is that early detection and intervention is key. I, like many people, was not that lucky. There was a pretty decent delay in treatment after diagnosis and I am now systemic. I have severe autonomic dysfunction from the CRPS. I have had both in patient and out patient ketamine infusions, I went through 9 months of IVIG plasma infusions, and I’m on my second medical port in less than 2 years because of clots. I have had sympathetic blocks. I have had a stellate ganglion block. I have tried Neurontin, Lyrica, and I live on Zofran because throwing up has become a daily part of my life. I’m in Stage 2/3 kidney disease. I suffer from insomnia. I rent my food. Most of the time, I can’t keep what I eat down or in. I lose my vision intermittently and because of that, I rarely drive. I pass out sometimes. I lose my balance. I drop things often because my dexterity isn’t anything like it used to be. These days I can cut my own food and feed myself without wearing the majority of my meals on my shirt. But that wasn’t always the case. I’m forgetful. I get confused and overwhelmed easily…especially in times of stress. I tire so easily and yet I can be up for days. I never thought, in a million years, that I could function with the pain that riddles my body each and every day. Then again, I’m not sure I am functioning. I spend most of my days sitting on my couch. I think that’s just existing, honestly. I would have to say that the pain, for the most part, is completely incompatible with life. My doctor says that I am one of the most challenging cases he’s ever had as I have yet to respond to anything that’s been thrown my way. He says that I’m a strong candidate for the ketamine coma but unfortunately, due to the high mortality rate, it’s not legal in this country. I’d go to Germany or Mexico to have it done, but I’ve been told those programs have shut down due to the same mortality concerns. Still, I’d take the chance if I could. This isn’t living. And we shouldn’t be expected to exist in this manner.

While that’s been pretty horrific on it’s own, I think what’s worse has been the complete isolation this disease is capable of causing. I lost my job, my career, and any hope of a pension and retirement when I got sick. Friends either don’t believe you, don’t understand the disease, or have a difficult time seeing you suffer. For that reason, they stop coming around or calling. The adage “I’ve got your six” or “once you wear a uniform, you’re family for life” doesn’t seem to be true either. I prefer to buy into the “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy as the majority of people that I worked with, side by side, for almost 20 years in various projects throughout the state, I haven’t seen or spoken to since my diagnosis. My immediate support system is a team of 3…2 of which are my parents. They live in Northern Virginia…approximately 250 miles away. The house that I was so proud to buy back in 2004 needs to be sold and relocating would be in my best interest…especially to a much warmer climate. But while I am tangled up in NJ Worker’s Compensation, I am stuck here.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to work again. I know I’ll never be a paramedic…and that has been the hardest pill to swallow. To go from doing that for a living to doing nothing has been a cruel, and painful transition. For a long time, I didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t wearing a uniform. It was my entire identity. I cannot explain the feeling one gets when they’re part of a team who, by the grace of God, is able to save the life of a critically ill or injured person. Unless you’ve experienced it yourself, it’s hard to understand. But I will say it’s an amazing honor and very little can top it. While it didn’t happen often, when it did, there was no beating it. I grieve the loss of that. I grieve the person I used to be. I grieve the loss of my own potential as I feel I could have done so much more with my career had CRPS not taken over every facet of my life. I grieve the loss of ME. Life, as I once knew it, is long gone. But that doesn’t mean that life is over… and I think that’s something that we all need to remember.

In April 2014, I became a member of a club that I never wanted to join, and along with millions of people who suffer just as I do, it’s an uphill battle every single day. It’s a battle for dignity. It’s a battle for respect. It’s a battle for tolerance. It’s a battle for inclusion. It’s just a battle. A lot of people get to the point where the battle is just too much. I get that, but I don’t want that to be my story. I’ll never again know the feeling of saving another life. But I am learning what it feels like to save my own. Every single day. I still enjoy the challenge of clean slates and fresh starts and since that part of me hasn’t changed, I think that may be where I’ll find a new normal. Who says life can’t involve a mulligan or two?

Early diagnosis leads to early intervention. Early intervention must equal aggressive treatment. That cannot happen unless there is adequate and appropriate education given to our healthcare providers about this horrific and debilitating disease. With treatment options scarce due to lack of funding, lack of research, lack of education, and lack of insurance coverage, it can force even the best person to take matters into their own hands. Our suicide rate is very high. Even without that statistic, the severe complications of CRPS can shorten our lives exponentially. It is a very scary reality. One that I live with every day.

In a way, I feel fortunate. I at least had an opportunity to start the dream….I just didn’t get to finish. At least not in the way I had always envisioned. But, what about those who don’t even get that? I saw a Go Fund Me page set up the other week by a single mom who was asking for help to get her son, Tommy, to Texas for an experimental treatment that may just help him walk for his 8th grade graduation. Can you imagine? When the only goal an 8th grader has is to be able to walk the few steps needed to get his diploma, there is something very wrong with our healthcare system. Can you imagine being the parent of that child and having to ask for and rely on the kindness of strangers in order to get him the help he needs? And what if that help doesn’t come in the way you need it to? What then? Can you imagine how powerless that must feel? Can you imagine being Tommy? When I think about him, and so many others like him, I’m grateful for the honor of wearing that uniform. I’m grateful that I got to know what that felt like. I’m grateful that I at least got to have a taste of what the rest of my life, as I knew it at the time, could have been. But that doesn’t mean I will ever stop grieving the loss of my potential,.and until more is made available to help all of us…until we find a cure…it will never, ever, be okay to allow this disease the power to halt a life lived before it’s ever begun. We talk about CRPS as if it doesn’t have a face. The cold, harsh reality is, it’s got millions of faces. I am one of those faces. And whether I like it or not, I’m a member of this club and will be for the rest of my life.

Sing a Song – Getting Vocal About RSD This New Year

RSD CRPS warrior Shannon takes time to sing her song to santa with dog Finian.By Guest Blogger Shannon Leidig

Everyone has a song to sing, with every song being our own stories. Shannon writes about her song, what it means to sing it, and why it is important to hear the songs of others, whether they have RSD / CRPS or not.

Oh my, time surely does fly – you know the old saying the older you get the quicker it goes? So true.  I can hardly believe that another year is almost done and gone and I can honestly say good riddance – get gone and soon!  While there have been many blessings there have been a heck of a lot of upside downs/inside outs craziness that make me just want to smack my head.  Here is hoping that this Christmas brings many wonderful blessings to you and yours and may 2017 be one of the best yet.

Growing up, I remember a song called “Sing, Sing a Song.” I loved it for its simplicity.  However, in that simplicity a powerful punch was packed – and says a lot!

“Sing, sing a song, sing out loud, sing out strong

Sing of good things, not bad, sing of happy, not sad

Sing, sing a song, make it simple to last your whole life long

Don’t worry that it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear

Just sing, sing a song”

When I was first diagnosed with RSD in 1990 ~ many moons ago ~ there was not much known about it at that time.  I did not know where to go, who to turn to for help – not much of anything.  We muddled through as best as we could, telling family, friends, and people in my life who were concerned.  As we all know, it gets old as we constantly hear “You look fine. There is NO way you can be in [that] much pain,” or “How can you work when you say your body is raging on fire?”  Um, hello! I am Shannon first, not RSD/CRPS.  I finally decided to keep quiet and fight the battle on my own with my family and those in my circle of friends who cared, as I was so tired of having to explain.  I figured as long as I could work and do what I needed to do to get through the day I would be okay.

(Also, back in the dark ages there was not the awareness for chronic pain as there is today – for which I am so thankful the word is getting out there). I finally decided to open up a bit more and see what would happen once I shared that I deal with chronic pain as RSD/CRPS was so foreign to people.  I knew I wanted to help make a difference and this is the year I wanted to start singing my song.

Color the World Orange opened the door for me to raise awareness locally and hopefully spread to a wider area.  I decided to write a letter to the editor of our local paper and little did I know the impact it would have.  I sent my letter in to the paper and it ran the same day as my most recent blog posted on RSDSA which was “Don’t Judge a Book By Its Cover.” I knew that day that things were going to move in a way to help others be aware of RSD and how we can help those who matter in our lives deal with it.   I came home one evening and logged into my Facebook page to see a friend request from a person I did not know. I thought: “What the heck?! I will accept.”  Later that evening, I received a message stating: “Thank you for writing that letter to the editor as I thought I was the only one dealing with RSD.” Now, I know someone else with this.  The words “Thank you as now I am not alone” really impacted me.  We started to communicate and we have become friends. Singing my song, even quietly. is helping someone else.

I also received another friend request on Facebook from another person who had read my letter.  As it turned out, this was a gal who I had volunteered with at our local hospital, and she also has RSD.  I am thinking the power of the words and the impact [of] our stories, whether we think of them as stories [or] our songs. This is our life and if we share and “sing our song,” we can make a difference.

My song, if my tune can help others, then I am thankful, as I do not want others to tred through life and go through the experiences I did when I was first diagnosed.  If I can help others realize that just because I am a pain patient does not mean I cannot do anything; we can do anything we want if we put our minds to it.  Yes, we may have to adapt and go through the river and through the woods to get there, but we can do it.  Will there be roadblocks? Of course! But, if we hang on to those in our lives who matter and care (and each other) we can get through it.  Yes, having RSD/CRPS is difficult and does it sure does suck! Do I have dark days? Plenty of them! But, if I can reach out to my family and friends, stretch out my hand, I know they will grab hold and pull me back up.  There will be many trying and difficult days, but I will not let it beat me. Let others know we are people first, not RSD and then “Oh by the way my name is Shannon.” Nope, it does not work that way!

We all have our own songs to sing. The tunes are different, as are the words, but we all sing.  Just as we listen to the radio or our iPhone and bebop to our music, every person we encounter sings a song each and every day.  I was recently at our team meeting/Christmas party and part of our icebreaker was to go around and share the one thing people may not know about us- a great accomplishment and then one thing we are thankful for.  I was reminded yet again that we all have our own songs and I was blown away by some of the lyrics of life and how our lyrics can shape and mold our lives.  It was time for a new member of our team to share and she shared how she is thankful that those from her church will be helping her family have Christmas as they lost their father.  I was deeply touched by her song and I though how brave [it was] of her to share her song with all of us, as we really did not know her. I then reached out to her after the meeting and thanked her for sharing.

Once again, I was reminded that if we sing our songs, no matter how loudly or quietly we sing them, whether they be pitch perfect or terribly off key, we can sing our songs proudly and share with others.

Christmas [and the holidays are] a season of caring which leads to sharing which is giving and then receiving.  We have moments in our lives when those we love have to care for us and help us, or we meet someone who may just need a simple smile just to help get them through the day.  Share your song, and remember:

“Sing, sing a song, sing out loud, sing out strong

Sing of good things, not bad, sing of happy, not sad

Sing, sing a song, make it simple to last your whole life long

Don’t worry that it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear

Just sing, sing a song”

Warm wishes to you and yours for a very Merry Christmas and may the new year bring you much joy, peace and happiness to last all throughout the New Year.  Share your song and sing it as loud as you want!

From One Family to Another: A Pediatric CRPS Journey

Zoe learned how to face pediatric CRPS head on and is doing what she can to give backBy Guest Bloggers Bobby and Lauren Gellert

The Gellert’s daughter, Zoe, has faced CRPS head on. She has been inspired to do some great things. See what Zoe and the Gellert family are doing and what they learned about pediatric CRPS.

“Dad! You need to come home. The doctor said nothing is broken or torn, but I still can’t put my foot on the floor. It feels like someone is sticking a knife through my heel and it’s burning inside”.

These were the words of our 11-year-old daughter, Zoe, who the day before was involved in a crush injury to her right ankle. Zoe was immediately non-weight bearing and was describing pain symptoms that made no sense based on the findings from her X-rays and MRI.  She was diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome six weeks later.  For my wife and I, this was the first moment in our lives that ‘brought us to our knees’.  Having a child that is constantly in pain with symptoms that got worse over time was a devastating situation that immediately threw us into acute survival mode to obtain the best and most immediate treatment for our daughter.

Zoe is very intelligent, passionate and determined – a born leader.  Over the past nine months since her injury, Zoe has learned an incredible amount about herself and her disorder.  Today, although Zoe is fully functional and playing sports, she continues to manage her daily pain with techniques that she has learned and that she is enthusiastic about sharing with other kids that are suffering.  Zoe is committed to creating overall awareness about pediatric CRPS and to raising money to help fund vetted treatment and research projects and to help support parents seeking financial assistance for their child’s necessary treatments.  Attached below is a detailed video of Zoe’s story that we would like to share.  We hope that you enjoy it and that it is inspirational for you or someone that you know with CRPS.  If you would like to email Zoe, please contact her at [email protected]We hope to hear from you!

My wife and I are very grateful that within three months of Zoe’s injury she was diagnosed, admitted into the hospital for intensive multi-disciplinary treatment and was released from the hospital walking without any support.  However, the feeling of being ‘a fish out of water’ is still very fresh for us.  Being thrown into the abyss of CRPS – whether during the pre-diagnosed, treatment or recovery stages – is completely overwhelming.  Throughout our research, it was very important for us to consider treatment options that were non-narcotic, non-invasive – but aggressive and appropriate for a child.  There were always many things to consider and every day brought new challenges.  So below, we feel compelled to highlight and share what we have learned about pediatric CRPS and what has worked for us and our family thus far in our journey…

Top 20 dos, don’ts, suggestions, and practicalities for pediatric CRPS*

  • Do not apply ice
  • Do not cast or immobilize
  • Do not get a flu shot
  • CRPS can spread throughout the body over time without treatment
  • Emotional stress can increase the baseline pain endured daily
  • Blood tests do not support or exclude the diagnosis – which is clinical and primarily based through observation of a variety of classic symptoms
  • Thermography may be the most effective non-invasive diagnostic tool
  • If your child must have an IV or get a shot, use the smallest needle possible – sometimes called a butterfly needle
  • Discuss with your doctor administering an appropriate dosage of Ketamine along with any anesthesia during surgery
  • Your child must be encouraged to stay engaged in everyday life activities while in pain – endure as much daily physical activity or physical therapy as your child can tolerate
  • Continually touch, rub and desensitize the affected area – this will facilitate the circulation of blood and oxygen flow and eventually reduce pain
  • Recovery is mostly about function over pain – explain to your child that he/she will not hurt himself/herself – if your child can function while in pain he/she will feel in control of the pain and the pain level will be reduced
  • Do not ask your child about the pain he/she is feeling
  • If your child complains about the pain, be sensitive, acknowledge the pain and distract him/her with homework, chores, physical or social activity – but move on from the conversation
  • Your child must accept and surrender to the pain without letting the pain identify who he/she is – do not allow your child to mentally cut off the affected area from his/her body
  • Seek a Cognitive Behavioral therapist so your child has someone other than you to talk with about what they are going through and to learn visual pain management techniques
  • All family members should be encouraged to discuss with a therapist how they are coping with the affected family member’s diagnosis
  • Do not allow CRPS to take over the household or to be the main topic of conversation with family, friends and work colleagues
  • Consider Osteopathy and Homeopathy as regular, not alternative, treatment options
  • Five books to read:
  • Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life – Spencer Smith and Steven C. Hayes
  • Conquering Your Childs Chronic Pain – Lonnie K. Zeltzer M.D.
  • The Mind Body Prescription – John E. Sarno M.D
  • The Power of Now – Eckhart Tolle
  • Fulford’s Touch of Life – The Healing Power of the Natural Life Force – Dr. Robert Fulford

*We are parents, not doctors; hence, we are not making any representations or warranties regarding the above information which is based solely on the results of our own research and experiences.

As you saw in the video, Zoe created a GoFundMe site. Please click here if you are able to make a tax-deductible donation and/or please share the GoFundMe site on your Facebook page or any other social media outlet.  We thank you in advance for your support and for your donation.

We also have an Instagram account at @Zoesheroes! It would be super if you would follow us on our journey!

With appreciation and gratitude,

Lauren and Bobby Gellert

Please consider making a donation to RSDSA today!

CRPS & GI – Frustrations From a Nurse’s Perspective

Written by Guest Blogger Beth Seickel, RN, BSN

Nurse Beth's stomach while CRPS and GI issues were flaringCRPS and GI issues may have some correlation. Our own Nurse Beth details her perspective on this issue as both a person living with chronic pain and as a nurse. How can we prepare ourselves for hospitals? How can we educate the staff? As we educate the world around us, here is her story: The frustration of living with CRPS spills over into everyday life we would all agree. Yet, speaking as a CRPS patient and Nurse, I have gained a unique point of view both as the health professional and now as the patient. Yet, my vulnerability as a patient was tested from an ER visit for acute abdominal pain and CRPS flares of my GI/colon.

There isn’t a ton of documentation on CRPS in the GI system, including the colon. But that doesn’t mean CRPS isn’t an issue there. CRPS can spread to ALL aspects of the body, including our internal organs. Bladder dysfunction, bowel dysfunction and abdominal pain can be affected according to the April 2014 online health chat with Dr. Michael Stanton Hicks, board certified physician in pain management and anesthesiology at Cleveland Pain Management and Center for Neurological Restoration.

Additionally, an article written by Dr. Robert Schwartzman, “Systemic Complications of CRPS”, Neuroscience & Medicine, 2012; documents spread to “internal organs” including GI. Information referenced by Dr. Eamonn Quigley and Ronald Pfeiffer links gastrointestinal dysfunction in patients with neurological disease.  “Neuro-Gastroenterology” published by Elsevier Health Sciences explains the “brain-gut connection”.

Why, then, is it such a struggle to connect the dots? Can’t tell you how many medical professionals have said: “I don’t know what CRPS or RSD is, but it can’t possibly be related to your GI system/colon.”  If you say you do not know what CRPS/RSD is, how can you then make such a statement?

You would think as an RN I wouldn’t be faced with this. But even though I was prepared (having my CRPS card and ER/Hospital Protocol from RSDSA, along with a list of medications, medical history and doctors in my wallet at ALL times), I still faced added stress of some staff NOT understanding or interested in knowing about CRPS.

Imagine this: I am laying on an ER stretcher, moaning in pain, holding my discolored “burning belly”, with my multi colored feet handing out of sheets, vulnerable, and overwhelmed trying to figure out how to just get relief when a hospital staff doc pays a 5 minute visit to my bedside spurting out what he is going to do while I, the patient and nurse, try to explain what CRPS is by handing him the CRPS card from RSDSA. My hope:  this will communicate what I can’t speak right now. Instead I only get the “nod” of an uninterested medical professional putting the card back down without even looking at it, which causes me to feel MORE vulnerable, disrespected and in MORE pain. Rather than open his mind to what he doesn’t know, he said I had “constipation” rather than assess the mottled & burning belly as “livideo reticularis,” gastroparesis, Dysmotility, pseudo-obstruction form my CRPS insisting my feet, which are hanging over the side uncovered, be covered.

So what’s a patient to do? Well I can share with you the positive side. Many nurses, physicians, and staff were thrilled to have the card and ER/Hospital protocol to read and pass on to the next shift.  SO validating as a CRPS patient! But being prepared isn’t always enough.

We need to continue to advocate for ourselves and others facing this condition. More importantly, we need to help “our care givers” to have the terminology to advocate for us when we can’t. Further education, protocols and advocacy must be given to hospital staff to expedite care. Contacting our local legislators to share our stories will enable future legislation to protect CRPS patients both in and out of a hospital setting. You might think your voice won’t make a difference. But I’m here to say “Yes it can!” Don’t wait, do it now. The more conversation we have the easier it will be. Together we are HELPING each other! Your voice, my voice, and RSDSA voice together WILL make the difference.

Nurse Beth's feet, which are normally affected by CRPS. She discusses the possible correlation between CRPS and GI issues

Thankfully, my GI and CRPS doctors are a constant source of support. When I call saying the abdominal pain is beyond my limit, they know where I am coming from. Their advocacy has sustained me over the past 10 years. Initiating treatment, including IV fluids, Zofran, PCA pump, LDN (low dose naltrexone) for the intestinal pseudo-obstruction / colonic inertia / Dysmotility / nausea has decreased my need to go to ER but I do need others, even my colleagues, to gain a better understanding of CRPS.

It is my goal that ALL health professionals will receive expanded training on “chronic pain,”  including the complexities facing those living with the challenge of CRPS.

Fear of Distance – RSD / CRPS and The Journey Away from Home

Guest blogger Rachel writes about her fear of distance and being away from home with RSD CRPS. But she is working at Disney. Can she make it the happiest place on earth despite RSD? Written by Guest Blogger Rachel Ehrenberg

Rachel is a member of the RSD / CRPS community that had the opportunity to be a part of DCP, or the Disney College Program. She details what it is like to be so far away from home, for the first time, with CRPS.

997.2 miles. 997.2 minutes. 16 hours. These are just numbers that form a distance to most people. But when you are living with a chronic illness, 997.2 miles is a long way from home and your comfort zone. That’s exactly what it was for me. In January, I packed up my things and moved from South Jersey to Orlando. I was beginning a journey of a lifetime and starting the Disney College Program.

I suffer from a chronic illness called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD)/ Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). There are many symptoms of this disorder, the most common being extreme pain and hypersensitivity. And with these symptoms come flare-ups where the burning pains gets so intense that it is hard to move.

The Disney College Program is a seven-month internship where you are assigned a role and work at Walt Disney World for that time. My role was in the entertainment division. Going into this program I was scared that my RSD would limit my abilities to work for the company as it has done so previously in regular everyday activities.

So here I was, 997.2 miles away from home, by myself, living with new people who knew nothing about my illness. I couldn’t help but think that whoever I told would judge me or just wouldn’t care or understand. I was unsure I would be able to handle a flare-up in this new environment.

When I was at home and had a flare-up, I would lay down either by myself or I would be with friends who would help me calm down. I also had a more relaxed schedule that allowed me to take time to just wait until the flare ended. There is no time to wait when you work for Disney. I was working up to 10-13 hours a day and around 45 hours a week. The added stress of a new environment and job just provoked my RSD / CRPS causing me to have flare-ups more often. If I were not working I would stay at home and miss out on things with my roommates because I was in too much pain to go out.

At work, I would be on my feet all day. Staying there began to feel impossible for me. I had no idea how I was going to get through 7 months. However, I was so determined not to let my RSD / CRPS control this amazing opportunity that I worked hard and figured out ways to cope with flare-ups in a different way than before.

A common trait that a lot of people with a chronic illness have is that we don’t talk about it to others that much. We often try to keep it hidden, especially from people who are new to our lives. For me personally, it has always been hard to let my guard down and become vulnerable enough to explain my condition to others. I never know how someone will react to it or if they will want to continue to be my friend. Back at home it took my over a year to finally get comfortable with a group of people to tell them about my condition. I didn’t have over a year at Disney.

The first step I took in dealing with a flare-up was to talk to the people who I was constantly around and explain to them my disorder and what they could do when I am having a flare-up. Some people I told wee extremely supportive and I could tell they were legitimately interested in listening to me. However, it was hard when I would tell people and they would act like I was just being over dramatic. I would become extremely self-conscious of my pain around those people. In those moments, I felt defeated and I wanted to quit.

The next step I had to take was to realize that I am stronger than I think. And this is the case for most people. For the longest time, if someone told me I was strong, I would just push it off and tell everyone that “I am not strong, I just have no choice but to live my life as it is”. In a way that is completely true. Living with RSD means living with pain every single day. But I have to continue with life. I refuse to just sit at home all day. So when I had these difficult moments in Florida, I would remind myself that I am strong. I am living my dream despite this disorder.  I would look around at work or at my apartment and just be in disbelief about how far I have come. I would never have imagined being able to move to Florida and work for Disney when I was diagnosed.

The last step I am going to talk about is arguably the hardest. This is an issue that I have struggled with for a while now. This issue is letting myself be vulnerable. I absolutely had to learn how to speak up. There was one night in particular where I was out with friends in the parks and I knew I could no longer walk around. My pain level had increased and I was on the verge of crying. I decided to separate myself and go home. Although I missed out on the rest of the night, I knew that my health was more important. But by doing this, I was really able to learn that I did have friends that cared about me. I spent the rest of the night dealing with my flare-up with a friend who was there for me and helped me through it. My vulnerability definitely came out. I would usually try to stay by myself and act like I don’t need any help. But the truth is, I do.

7 months may seem like an incredibly long time, and it was at certain moments. But I am no longer afraid leaving where I am comfortable and trying new things. Living with a chronic illness makes things harder at times. However, there is no reason why any illness should define what a person is able to accomplish. 997.2 miles seems like nothing now.

Magic Wand – Experiences Living with CRPS

Alessia Zen writes about her experience with CRPS, her accomplishments, and why she hopes her essay can be a magic wand for people with CRPS Written by Guest Blogger Alessia Zen

A story of living with CRPS (the struggles and triumphs), the hope for the future, and what the community truly needs.

Ever the dreamer as an eleven year old little girl I wrote my life goals on a yellow post-it note, proudly signing it with juvenile cursive writing- in my mind by signing with a “signature” this became official just like a real-life grown up. I wrote that I was going to become a doctor/archaeologist (emphasis on the slash, in my mind these careers were not mutually exclusive), challenged myself to read one thousand books, hoped to write a novel, promised to travel the world seeing all of its wonders, and that I would discover a cure for a disease. I was a supremely confident child who liked to contemplate anything and everything I learned about the world and what my place in it would be; I can say today fourteen years later that the goals my younger self dreamed of are still the same ones I hold dear to my heart now (with the notable exception of having dropped the archaeology aspirations as I sadly learned doctor/archaeologist is not an actual job- such are the woes of life). However, what I could not have known at the time as I sat writing and contemplating my future was that in one short year the world as my innocent eleven year self knew it would be utterly and completely shattered with a devastating medical diagnosis of a rare, mysterious condition forcing me to grow up overnight, that no one in my life had ever heard of before. At the tender age of twelve in the guise of four seemingly innocuous letters a fiery red monster came into my life  -CRPS- the acronym for a debilitating and devastating neurological condition which holds the unfortunate misnomer of “the suicide disease”, and is aptly described as “if hell were a medical condition” has gone on to impact every aspect of living for over half of my life now making my goal list ever more important to hold onto while simultaneously being all the more challenging to achieve. You are probably wondering why you have never heard of this condition before if it is described in such grave terms, I am writing this to shed some light.

CRPS stands for Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (formerly Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD)), a rare neurological disease and chronic pain condition where the primary symptom is severe, debilitating, unrelenting pain- sharp, stabbing, burning, aching, tingling pain twenty-four hours a day seven days a week of screaming, tear out your hair nauseatingly awful proportions of pain that does not end. There is no known cure. Identified as the most painful condition medically known, ranking a 42/50 on the McGill Pain Scale (yes, this is higher than unprepared, unmedicated childbirth, cancer pain and arthritis), current research indicates that the cause of CRPS is multifactorial with malfunctions occurring in the Central Nervous System (CNS), Autonomic Nervous System (ANS) and Immune System. Essentially what occurs in the disease process of CRPS is that instead of pain and inflammatory responses in the body shutting off after an injury has healed, they become amplified in a vicious, disabling and debilitating looping pain cycle- the electrical wiring of the body has gone haywire.  Underlying pathological mechanisms cause a distinct set of symptoms including systemic sympathetic neurological dysfunction, and in the affected limb(s) gross edema, mobility issues, muscular atrophy and spasms, temperature asymmetry, changes to bone and vascularization causing marked skin discoloration, alterations in nail, hair growth and sweating, changes in skin texture and severe allodynia (hypersensitivity). This means the lightest touch by something as harmless as sheets or water from a shower causes excruciating pain- not to mention car rides, hugs or many other aspects of daily life we often take for granted until it is too late to realize how dramatically life can change in a single moment. Limbs can rapidly become deformed and lose their function. Secondary constitutional symptoms that can develop include cognitive dysfunction (concentration and coordination issues, memory loss, confusion, and brain fog), mood changes (depression, anxiety), insomnia, gastrointestinal problems, temperature intolerance, and extreme fatigue among others. While improvement is possible with early treatment, in many cases CRPS is a progressive condition which has the potential to spread from the initial limb to other areas of the body; it is a condition which is relentless, unremitting and unforgiving for the damage it causes.

Many days I cannot get out of bed because the symptoms of CRPS are so disabling with my very own swollen rainbow leg turning into a variety of strange patterns and colors- blue, purple, angry red, and fiery orange. At times it looks like a dead limb. My leg is so ice cold the sharp freezing temperature can be felt through thick fleece pants, yet my leg paradoxically burns as if a roaring fire has been lit directly upon my skin, knives are furiously stabbed up and down and bricks weighing tons crush my bones. Simultaneously spasms of horrific intensity lift my legs off my bed, and later on pins and needles set in so strong I have to use my arms to pick up leg to move it, while within in minutes of standing color changes occur as blood furiously tries to perfuse constricted blood vessels. With careful attention and herculean effort, joints need to be gingerly moved out of the position they have twisted themselves into. I cannot weight bear through my leg without the use of crutches and as the years have gone by I have developed an array of widespread neurological symptoms throughout my body and CNS sensitization. Due to the variety of symptoms that are experienced for individuals affected by CRPS as their body turns on them and increasingly falls into a state of “high alert”, the world itself becomes an enemy in many ways as any light, touch, sound, vibration, movement, temperature change, stressor (physical and emotional) and the very acts of living daily life can send you into a flare lasting days, weeks or months. It is a condition which is extremely fatiguing, both physically and mentally, and notoriously difficult to treat.  In fact, if treatment is not begun in the early stages outcomes are often not favorable. As it is a condition which is highly variable and unpredictable in its course, a cycle of gains and setbacks is typical- I have had to relearn how to walk more than once. This is compounded by the fact that there is an egregiously serious lack of understanding of this condition  (both medically and societally), targeted available treatment centers and research funding, despite CRPS being identified as early as the American Civil War. Alarmingly since there is a profound dearth of awareness of this condition, majority of patients with CRPS often sadly experience a large degree of social alienation, wait extended periods of time for an accurate diagnosis and are accused of faking symptoms- this is dually deeply traumatic and damaging to patients  mentally and physically. In direct contradiction of the blatantly visibly apparent pathophysiological symptoms I was presenting with I was told this “was all in my head”, at one point solely being offered psychiatric intervention as I supposedly “wanted attention”. The initial doctor I saw falsely reported a test as negative when in fact it indicated clear signs which can help to diagnose a case of CRPS, in turn I was also refused a referral to a specialist despite several doctors noting I had an extremely severe and textbook case of CRPS. CRPS presents the perfect case of how essential awareness and knowledge is to combat stigma, misinformation and how awareness is the surest and most important tool those in the CRPS community have in our arsenal  to advance towards a cure, and at the very least a baseline knowledge of CRPS in the medical community.

Life with a chronic illness is a delicate dance. A balance has to be struck between caring for what amounts to a full time job in managing your condition but also living life passionately versus existing, in a world that is not readily acceptable of differences. This becomes even harder in the age of comparison and social media in which we live, where oftentimes people are held to others standards. When those standards are not met one is labeled as lazy, a failure and just simply not trying hard enough. When no satisfying answers are given, when no instant fix or permanent solution can be found(after all, this is the 21st century that is meant to have answers for everything), people become frustrated and turn in disbelief, skepticism and anger towards the individual with CRPS thinking the reality of this simply cannot be true- it must be exaggerated. When people are unaware of the nuances of living with CRPS a lot of hurt can ensue. Friends slowly trickle away, relationships crumble as blame, anger, loss, and frustrations are thrown around, missed opportunities abound. The very basic dignity we need at the moment of our greatest suffering is stripped away bit by bit as people realize that you are not getting “better” that this way of life is the new normal and the onus of blame falls on the patient- it’s our fault, if only we could do more then surely we would be “fixed”.

If determination alone could have eradicated this condition I would have been healed the minute I was diagnosed, and in the moment each and every single time I have come back from a setback. While undoubtedly adopting a positive attitude dramatically increases one’s ability to handle a chronic illness, positivity alone cannot alter underlying physical pathology which is why there is a desperate need to have the unknown questions surrounding CRPS answered. In an effort to “get better” I have had countless surgeries, ketamine infusions, epidurals, weeks of inpatient hospitalizations, lumbar sympathetic nerve block injections, and hundreds of hours of physical and occupational therapy. On a daily basis I take several forms of medication all in a mammoth effort to function (these include anticonvulsants, calcium-channel blockers, anti-spasmodics, narcotics and anti-inflammatories). There has also been experimental treatments, alternative treatments, hypnotherapy, heat therapy, TENS, biofeedback, an implantable medical device, and cognitive behavioral therapy. Personally, I am a big believer in adopting spiritual practice, yoga, meditation, distraction techniques and mindfulness as a means of coping- those have been my saviors in coping day to day along the way that I have the power to do on my own. I have physical scars that have been closed and reopened again and again, my leg was stuck completely straight for nearly two years and then distorted into a bent position for another year, I have had to take the same medication given to cancer patients due to the severe nausea and vomiting from treatments, a treatment caused grand mal seizures as the result of an adverse reaction, I had a device implanted and then removed due to complications- treatments for CRPS are no walk in the park, it is a serious and grueling process of trial and error.

As I do not look visibly ill and CRPS is a relatively unknown condition I have often faced a lot of discriminatory behavior, words and actions (such as being stopped from taking a vacation, not being allowed to use a chair to sit in class, have had my need for disability services questioned and so on) and found dealing with people’s misunderstanding and lack of empathetic understanding (it is important to note that there is a marked difference between empathy and sympathy which is what many people wrongly believe is what someone with chronic illness wants)even more difficult to manage than the condition itself. I have been told that I do not want to get better, that what I am feeling cannot possibly even be real or hurt as bad as I am describing. I have been told that I just need to suck it up and have the right attitude to think it away (my friends would tell you that I am the most annoyingly optimistic person they know), that I just can’t handle this and need to move forward, it’s not that big of deal, get over it and get on with life. If I talk about the difficulties associated with CRPS then I am focusing on it too much. There are people who say how very nice it must be to not be in school or to not have a job (not thinking of the very real and serious financial, academic and life planning implications this diagnosis has thrown a wrench deeply into), that at least it’s not cancer, or how great it must be for me to take narcotics to “get high” (nausea, confusion, dizziness are more apt descriptors). I hear that I don’t really need to take my medications I just need to get out more (never minding the fact that medications to help control spasms and dilate my blood vessels to increase circulation are what allow me to function). It’s questioned how can I be that tired when I’m so young, how can air (eye roll) hurt me? A teacher told me I should just amputate my limb so that I can attend more school. Grimaces from pain on my face in the rare occasion they show result in being asked why I am mad or being a bitch. Many have told me that I cannot possibly be happy in life, that I am a burden for my family and that if they had my life they would kill themselves. Medical professionals every time I go to an appointment for a separate concern question if I really have CRPS (particularly because of my age as the average age of diagnosis is around 40 years old), have told me it cannot be that bad since I am not in a wheelchair, and upon seeking treatment for a breast lump the minute the physician discovered I had CRPS she told me that I just needed to get off of my crutches and I would be fine since I was overreacting- a separate surgeon later went onto remove a tumor (benign) that was over five centimeters. There is a constant push that if I somehow just did more research there would be an answer for a cure (I can assure you that I spend hours weekly scouring medical journals and information from all over the world looking for answers I desperately not only want but have an imminent need to acquire). Exasperation unfolds at how one day I can do something and the next I cannot. People assume because I am not depressed and laugh that there cannot really be that much of a struggle occurring in my life. Many proclaim that they know better in how I should live my life, or if they were me they could handle it so much better- this has personally led me into a lot of situations where in order to please someone else I have done things that have set me into a flare and backfired greatly. This could be as simple as going out when I knew I needed to rest. The individual with CRPS alone is the person who pays the consequences- more pain, longer sleepless nights, increased medications with terrible side effects- of all actions taken, so pushing someone even if meant well can have devastating implications. Unfortunately, the few examples I have written of are not unique to my story. Read any blog or article on CRPS and you will see how much of a shared experience such attitudes are for those of us with CRPS.  This commonality shared among CRPS patients in the crippling aspect of people’s judgments, inaccurate perceptions, and negativity we face fueled by a lack of understanding and knowledge, misinformation, pervasive inaccurate stereotypes, and the basic questioning if such a horrible medical condition can even exist is extremely disconcerting.  I will never be able to grasp the callousness humanity can display in the face of not understanding something but I choose to confront such ignorance with the positive step of sharing the reality of my life instead of bitterness or anger- life is too beautiful for such emotions.

Many negative stereotypes pervade those who live with CRPS and other chronic illnesses- this urgently needs to be addressed so that those suffering, often in silence, can be built up with positivity to an overall health and life balance whereby no matter how many times life may be telling you no, you develop new strategies to say yes.  I am just a girl, with a single voice, living my life with CRPS hoping to impart some positivity into the world, my hope is that in sharing my story it may empower someone else and collectively our voices can rise together. If I can be one drop of water in the ocean to help change the culture around this illness then I’ve succeeded. If one person reaches out for help with tips on how to get through this or someone stops to consider this condition and their reactions to individuals with it then I’ve succeeded. In the face of the seemingly impossible facts we do know about this condition, incredulity often arises saying this cannot possibly be real, but I can assure you that it is a very brutal medical reality for millions of individuals across the globe. If awareness can be increased of the true nature of what someone goes through on a day to day basis living with CRPS, especially how strong we have to be to face the world when that is often the trigger for our symptoms, then I believe the commonalities you hear from CRPS patients of not feeling like they are heard would be changed. No one should ever feel that they are not believed. In order for patients to successfully manage chronic illness, acceptance is critical so that new adaptive ways can be developed to make life easier as well as minimizing triggers, to aid in creating an environment which optimizes health outcomes. However, oftentimes acceptance, adaptations, asking for help, and knowing when to say no can be seen as “giving in”. As health news typically focuses on acute over chronic conditions, what the public cannot understand is how demanding, emotionally and physically draining it is to control CRPS, how the simplest of tasks become your own personal Everest. Chronic illness is like drops of water slowly wearing down a surface until it is finally raw and exposed to the elements; there is no break from it, you carry it with you wherever you go.

Yet, strength comes from us living with what is rather than trailing into the land of what ifs and as humans as long as we are breathing change is possible, we can live and inspire and make our way through life even if you have been dealt the card of CRPS and all the difficulties that it entails. There is much more to me than CRPS and so very much I want out of life regardless of its diagnosis. Those of us in the CRPS community desperately and urgently need research to be done, myths to be busted and solidarity shown so that we can have a chance to achieve our dreams. It is as much a part of me as scar- it might not be pretty but it is there visible every day, and I actively choose to go on each and every day because I have life worth living. Never allow someone’s judgment to take your worth, to make you feel less than. You are not alone. Your voice is heard. Your pain is real. CRPS is real. The symptoms that are so strange you yourself are unsure if this can really be happening are real. The bone crushing, and emotionally, mentally, physically draining exhaustion from the fight your body is engaged in which makes the tiniest things a battle won when you complete tasks is real. Hope is real. I cannot describe the joy I feel in the morning when I wake up and can wiggle my toes- in 2015 I could not do this. To others this may seem insignificant, but when you have CRPS you have to learn to be your own marching band and champion all those achievements that only you know in your heart how magnificent they are- each degree of flexion or extension of a limb gained, each time you can stand a moment longer, each time you laugh a little longer and that wonderful moment when you realize that yes while you have this hanging over your head, in small ways each day you can move forward on your own terms carving out a unique life that works for you regardless of societal expectations and definitions of what constitutes “normal”. Life is not perfect yet that universal truth, is what makes life remarkably special- magic lies in imperfections- it is through challenges where we find our strengths and most importantly our dreams.

In spite of the hardships that have come into my life uninvited I have continually learned how to adapt to each new circumstance that has come into my life along this journey, redefining “success” and gaining a greater appreciation for life each passing day. Many of the achievements I am most proud of no one but I would be aware of. As a recipient of scholarships I hold a 4.1CGPA undertaking a BSc in Health Sciences which I have every hope to continue so that I can apply to medical school however long it may take me, I have climbed to the top of Angkor Wat, swam on The Great Barrier Reef with Nemo, watched the sunrise over the Ganges River, lived life fully as a friend, daughter and sister, having always maintained this is not going to be the defining feature of my life, even when that is how people think I live. I have learnt along the way that when I try to ignore my CRPS I get into big trouble, for a long time I was obsessed with hiding what I needed, how I was feeling, tried to fit myself into the world rather than mold it around what was best for me, which pushed myself further down the rabbit hole of CRPS, worsening it greatly. No one prepared me at 12 that at 25 I would still be living with this, it has brought me to my knees but through that I have developed into an individual who chooses to see the good in everything, living life mindfully (my sister may possibly refer to me as Gandhi) and wanting to leave a positive mark in this world. I don’t know where the future will take me, my life is a twisted web of uncertainty commonly taking two steps forward and ten back.  Hopefully I will find my way to Australia for medical school as I do much better in warmer climates; the Game of Thrones slogan “Winter is Coming” incites as much fear into me as all the character of Westeros as cold is one of the worst triggers for CRPS. I know it will be slower and at my own pace, and I have to remind my type-A, perfectionist self that this is ok, when many critique me. I may have climbed those stairs to the top of Angkor on my behind, could swim for no longer than ten minutes and more often than not I am on the end of reprehensible judgements and comments that come out of ignorance, I may have “only” completed two years of university towards my degree having to withdraw under extenuating circumstances despite A+ grades in classes because I simply physically could not go on, yet the point is I’ve managed to make inroads towards my goals in my own way, albeit with some very odd and twisting pathways. Living with a chronic illness often what people assume to be are your weakest points in life, are in fact your strongest moments requiring great stability and self-assurance. For me, the decision to stop school temporarily two and a half years ago was single handily the hardest decision I have ever made in my life. I want nothing more than to become a doctor working with Doctors without Borders and have the academic abilities to do so, however at the moment CRPS seems to have a different plan- I say go right, it turns left by going up, down, taking a U-turn and then a somersault.  The struggle we face in having a chronic illness when our minds and attitudes are capable of achieving anything, reaching the moon and stars, but your body is betraying you at every turn is heartbreaking- especially when people assume if you just tried a teensy weensy bit harder to get there you could. Knowing when to put your health first, to slow down and re-evaluate, to block out extraneous noise is the most important lesson you will learn on the journey of chronic illness, as life with chronic illness is not black and white, it is fifty thousand shades of grey. There is loss, heartbreak, anger, hurt, frustration, disappointment but also extraordinary moments of humanity- laughter, joy, love and horizons expand within even if the outside world shrinks at times.

I have been remarkably blessed in a multitude of ways in my life- my parents are my fighters, my doctors are my heroes who watched me grow up just as my family did, my sisters are my laughter factory, my friends are my cheerleaders, the world is my inspiration. I hope I can do the same for others, to positively impact the life of someone suffering right now. Maybe there is someone who has been recently diagnosed, who is scared and hurting, or someone struggling to get an accurate diagnosis, another unsure how to go on, or a family crippling under the burden and fear of what has so unfairly been hoisted upon them, to those I want to impart hope, it is always there, ever present do not ever lose sight of that even when you cannot understand what is occurring and communication breaks down. Take a moment, step back, close your eyes and take a deep breath. Maybe those who are reading this can begin discussions among friends and family of those afflicted with CRPS to give a small piece of insight into what CRPS is truly like as patients typically minimize the impact the illness is having in effort to maintain normalcy. The stark dichotomy we present to the public versus the reality of what we are feeling is staggering. In fact, often when people compliment me that I look good is often when I’m feeling at my worst- we are powerful masters of disguise wanting to live as normally as possible. Although, this double life approach can actually cause more harm than good since it is exhausting by any measure and management, support, and adaptation are key to successfully managing CRPS.

Being diagnosed with a chronic illness is a terrifying life altering experience in every possible way that you can imagine and in all the unsuspecting ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine, but a diagnosis does not mean life has to end. The patient experience, sharing helpful information (especially “tricks” that can help alleviate symptoms) and input is critical to the healing process in finding ways to manage this condition. I firmly believe that our perceptions and the way in which we choose to view life greatly shapes our reality, therefore it is of the utmost importance that those with CRPS have a strong foundation of support, love and understanding. There is such a profound lack of understanding about this condition that great damage is done to patients through delayed diagnoses, improper or ineffective treatment as well as discriminatory barriers that are discreetly and at times overtly built into and exhibited by society. I want to challenge the dialogue and perceptions that so often unnecessarily plague those affected with CRPS that only further complicate an already difficult situation. I want to begin a discussion to get people fired up about the fire that is CRPS, so the seeds of awareness are planted to make people aware of this devastating condition, and for those that are afflicted with this for them to know that there are people out there who feel the same fear, concern and frustration not only from the illness itself but also the negative perceptions all too often labelled on you.  CRPS is an enigmatic condition that is both fascinating from a scientific and human perspective in a myriad of ways. There is a deep need to have a strong media presence of CRPS so that it slowly trickles down into mainstream culture. I implore whoever is reading this as November is CRPS Awareness Month, share this, discuss it, pin it, post it, do some research on CRPS and maybe in doing so another person may evaluate their perceptions about those they hold of someone living with CRPS. Alternatively someone with CRPS may smile knowing there are others out there in the world right now who are reading about their condition bringing them hope for a better future with less uncertainty, less judgement, less pain. Knowledge is power and so I share a small portion of mine dedicating it to all the amazing, powerful fighting individuals with CRPS, the friends and family who support them unceasingly, and the doctors who dedicate their lives to helping us. Small acts can collectively together bring big results. Whenever someone was having an exceptionally bad day during physiotherapy sessions, my physiotherapist would bring out her magic wand to cast a healing spell over us to take away our pain. This simple act of kindness, that would bring hope and a jolt of laughter with big smiles when people needed it most sticks with me every day, so I say in honor of that, that knowledge and words hold magic, so this essay is my magic wand, in the belief that one day soon CRPS will have a real magic wand of healing.

CRPS and Mental Health – Stress and Other Elements

Roderick Borrie, Ph.D., discusses CRPS and mental health particularly stress
Picture Courtesy of Facebook

Written by Roderick Borrie, Ph.D. for the RSDSA blog.

The last thing Penny expected was to be seeking help from a psychologist.  She had always been a fiercely independent person who could take on most problems and solve them on her own. Penny was the one who took care of others, not the other way around.

An accident at work in January 2015 changed all of that. After some convalescing and physical therapy, Penny assumed that she would be able to bounce back to her old self. But that didn’t happen. At first, she was merely frustrated by the tenacity of the pain in her neck and shoulder, but it evolved into fear as her pain worsened and spread into her left arm and down her left leg. Her skin often felt on fire and excruciating to touch.

After about a year of pain medications and physical therapy that had no ameliorative effect, Penny was referred to a new orthopedist who diagnosed her with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS).

She felt relief at first. Now that they know what it is, she thought, there will be an obvious treatment and I will be able to recover. But she soon learned from her doctor that there was no single treatment of choice. Instead, she could choose from an array of experimental treatments that had worked for some. Penny did her own research and she discovered that CRPS is poorly understood and that there was no clear-cut treatment regimen. She joined a support group where she met people living with CRPS who had tried many different therapies with mixed results.

 

Am I Crazy?
Penny had become deeply demoralized and depressed. Her personality changed. She was irritable, impatient and overwhelmed. Her family walked on eggshells around her. She had begun to doubt her sanity.

She had lost her love of life and desire to do anything. She began to feel that any time she attempted to do something normal, like clean the house or do the laundry, she paid a heavy price, so why bother?

A friend with CRPS suggested that Penny seek counseling with a psychologist who was familiar with chronic pain.  She found that talking with someone who had experience helping other people in pain helped her see that she wasn’t crazy. Her pain was real. Her life had been turned upside down by it. Together they began to salvage her old self from the wreck her life had become.

 

Stress Can Exacerbate the Pain
An often-overlooked element of chronic pain is the enormous surge in stress that comes with it. Stress is our automatic physical response to almost any demand we encounter. Called the “Fight or Flight Response”, the stress reaction occurs naturally to large and small demands alike. The morning alarm clock, a looming deadline, a change of plans, or a family crisis all receive some of this same response. All the stressors of our daily life join forces to increase the response, revving our bodies to be ready to do battle or run. This would be fine if you are a caveman.

Stress becomes dangerous because we become accustomed to our usual level of stress and tend to stop noticing the constant muscle tension and heightened anxiety. Then when we hit stress overload, we can have intense physical reactions. Headaches, panic attacks, digestive problems, aches and pains, increased susceptibility to illness, heart attacks or strokes can be triggered by stress overload.

 

And Pain Can Cause Stress
Life is full of stress and in our society, most people function at their maximum tolerance to that stress. And then along comes pain. Chronic pain is a particularly onus stressor for which there is no clear-cut response. In addition to this extra stress, pain makes dealing with the usual demands of the rest of life much more difficult or at times impossible. As a result stress overload is common for sufferers of chronic pain. Typical symptoms include increased anxiety and many changes usually connected with depression, like, social withdrawal, irritability, loss of interest, poor concentration, easy tears, lack of energy and sadness.

 

The Big Unknown
Once a person receives the diagnosis of CRPS, she/he has already been on a painful journey of medications, treatments and doctors’ visits. For many illnesses, diagnoses can add clarity to understanding what is wrong and therefore how to fix, or treat it. But this is not the case with this little-understood syndrome. For many people, CRPS is more of a “life sentence” than a diagnosis. There is no cure and no consensus on how to treat it. Some doctors even refuse to treat it. And so rather than finding it helpful, a CRPS diagnosis can add a sense of helplessness and hopelessness, critical components of depression. The endless struggle with pain can obscure your sense of who you are. It is difficult to recognize this sad, grumpy, withdrawn person as the same person you used to be.

 

Body and Mind Connection
While chronic pain is most definitely a physical phenomena, the way we think about, feel and understand our pain can make a huge difference. Talking with a professional can help untangle you from your current situation and become someone you recognize again. Pain is inevitable in life, but suffering is optional. Pain is a sensation, and suffering is all the things we say to ourselves about that sensation. What happens to the sensation of pain when we add, “This is killing me”, “This is never going to end”, “Why did God do this to me?” or “This has destroyed my life”. All of this can quickly amplify the pain. But pain without these kinds of judgments, or suffering, is actually more manageable.  And so becoming aware of your thoughts about pain is the first step.

Working with a psychologist specializing in stress and pain management can be crucial for persons with CRPS. Learning skills that make stress manageable can help you regain a sense of control and hope. The ability to reduce stress involves developing increased physical and mental self-awareness. This can include:

  • Relaxation techniques, including diaphragmatic breathing and meditation
  • Learning to monitor your mental and physical capacity to pace everyday activities
  • Recognize the judgments about your pain and choose to not engage them
  • Begin to accept that your ability to function is in flux, and that this is normal and okay
  • Become comfortable with letting go of planned activities, without beating yourself up about it

 

Develop a New Relationship to Your Pain
Developing a new relationship with pain is a critical factor. With a new awareness of what is going on in your body and your mind you are on your way to finding a self that you can recognize again. Penny discovered that learning to manage her stress and acknowledge the thoughts that worsened her pain enabled her to be less frequently incapacitated. With sensible pacing, she was able to do more and be more of her old self. Once she became more accepting of her present condition, it was easier to normalize her relationships with those around her and be an active part of her family and social circle again.

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Medication Summary for Intractable Pain, CRPS/RSD

Nancy Sajben, MD discusses the medication summary for intractable pain (CRPS RSD) as discussed at an RSDSA conferenceThe following blog post was written on 11/6/16 by Nancy Sajben, MD for her website. Shared with permission.

I spoke only briefly this morning at the RSDSA conference but there is so much to add. Most importantly, thanks to RSDSA for helping so many people with CRPS. They fund pain research, they are starting a free children’s camp, and now offer physicians one hour free CME teaching about CRPS.

Holistic view, 36 points – that’s how I view caring for brain and nerves, very similar to the details used by UCLA Alzheimers Research Unit. In June 2015, I posted on their work on memory loss, dementia. We know chronic pain means inflammation in the brain, excess of proinflammatory cytokines. CT scans show memory loss and brain atrophy in those with chronic low back pain.  Can this inflammation lead to Alzheimers? Even if it doesn’t, why not maximize what we know we can do to help brain. As I view it, simply be meticulously detailed in giving the central nervous system (CNS) the best chance to relieve or prevent pain or disease.

Below is a brief list.

To find detail and sometimes depth, check the alphabetical lists on either side column [on Nancy Sajben’s website] until you see the category or tag when I first posted on that. Or simply plow through 7.5 years of detail with references. You do the work to check the side columns as I have no time to embed links below, taken from throughout this site.

For now just a list of medication players that may be strikingly important in trying to bring intractable pain into remission even after 20 years. Yes, even chronic for decades. The list applies to intractable pain of all causes. I omitted listing standard interdisciplinary approaches commonly used by every pain specialist around the world. My patients have failed all those.

Some patients with CRPS combine my medications with ketamine infusions.

For those who remain on opioids, ultra low dose naltrexone (10 to 60 mcg three times daily) can significantly reduce pain, reduce opioid induced hyperalgesia, reduce windup, and thus reduce the dose of opioid needed to give improved relief. Opioids cause pain and trigger pro-inflammatory cytokines that create more pain. I strongly recommend slowly, gently tapering off opioid, and remaining off for 3 weeks before the following is trialed:

  1. Vitamin D is anti-inflammatory. Important. Helps pain, depression. If bone loss is an issue, you will not absorb calcium from food if D is low. Mayo Clinic’s publication in 2012 showed more morphine is needed for pain if D is low. Huge literature of its benefit for depression. First topic I posted on – it is that important.74.
  2. Vitamin B6 can cause burning pain from scalp to toe, a toxic neuropathy. It can be toxic to brain. It is loaded in tons of soft drinks, “energy” drinks, supplements.
  3. MTHFR mutation may be present. Body cannot process  the B12 and folic acid you are eating or taking in supplement. A simple blood test, costly. Treatment is as simple as buying methyl folate and methyl B12 – no prescription needed. Folic acid in particular is profoundly important for one of the major energy cycles in the body. Can cause multiple conditions, some fatal, all from one single cause.
  4. Minocycline 100 mg/day is the dose I use but higher doses could be given. It is used daily for decades for acne. I may prevent spread of CRPS if given before surgery, dental work, even minor procedures. I start 24 hrs before, and continue for days after full recovery from surgery.
  5. Testosterone  in either male or female is depleted by opioids, it may be depleted by stress. Low T is a risk for depression, weakness and osteoporosis.
  6. Naltrexone low dose (LDN) – profoundly important. A glial modulator. Lifelong use.
  7. Dextromethorphan – reduces hyperexcitable glutamate
  8. Oxytocin
  9. Memantine – double the Alzheimers dose for CRPS. Like ketamine, it blocks the NMDA receptor.
  10. Lamotrigine
  11. Palmitoylethanolamide (PEA, PeaPure) a glial modulator, also acts on mast cells. A food supplement. No Rx. Your body makes it. Plants make it. Capsules & cream
  12. Ketamine via nasal spray, under tongue combined with IV or not, works on glutamate-NMDA receptor. Not an essential drug. Where ketamine has stopped working, patients have become pain free after years of CRPS.
  13. Creams combinations, so many. Most of my CRPS pts very much like   Mg++/guai  10% each. You may or may not trial various combinations lido/keto/keta, etc. Numerous. DMSO 50%.
  14. Medical Marijuana (CBD, THC, terpenes) Marijuana saves lives. Entire issue of Science, November 4, 2016, devoted to pain. NAC and alpha lipoic acid are noted by research from the Netherlands.

Appendicitis

If it has not burst, treat it like the infection that it is. Surgery may never be needed. I posted details of publications early 2016 with a case report. That young man was being rolled into the OR, instead was discharged 100% better without surgery 2 days later.

Medications target 3 main systems, as discussed at the conference

The opioid receptor – opioids create pain. They trigger glia to produce pro-inflammatory cytokines. Opioid induced hyperalgesia may occur. Cannot be used with low dose naltrexone.

The glutamate NMDA receptor – ketamine, memantine.

Glia, the innate immune system – glial modulators.

Before they see me, my patients have failed all prior therapies even ketamine coma. I view it like football. You have one guy running down the field with one ball. Do you want to win the game? You’ve dealt with this for years. Let’s not prolong it. Hit it with my main choice of meds all at once. Jump on it. What if you get 10% relief – will you even notice 10% after many years of severe pain? But if you get 10% from each of 5 meds, then you are talking 50% relief as a start. Address those 3 main pain systems – even without ketamine – and I have posted a case report after 20 years and 3 suicide attempts before seeing me, she has been pain free for about 4 years as I recall. A surgeon nicked her sciatic nerve when she was 27. Two years ago, pain free, running on her treadmill, she twisted her ankle. She has permanent foot drop from the sciatic nerve injury, but even spraining her ankle did not flare her CRPS. Twenty years of CRPS, pain free for about 4 years. And ultimately, years ago, she was tapered off all the drugs with one exception: LDN lifelong.

Most importantly, I did not have time to relay a very special message from my patient in Brooklyn: “Surround yourself with friends and family who love you. Never give up hope.” She had her first 2 or 3 pain free days this week, as she slowly increases doses of medication. She’s not yet at maximal effect and even then there can be increases. Sending love and courage.

 

RSD support groups are essential and I am glad to see the RSDSA list of so many throughout the country.

There is so much more. Indeed, at least 36 points discussed on June 2015.

 

Disclaimer

The material on this site is for informational purposes only.
It is not legal for me to provide medical advice without an examination.
It is not a substitute for medical advice, diagnosis or treatment provided by a qualified health care provider.