How to find help for Central Sensitization

Hi everyone!

I recently heard from a reader who was looking for some suggestions on where to turn next, in terms of finding a medical professional to help him.  He said he’d been struggling with central sensitization syndrome for three years now, and had yet to receive any significant help.

I thought his advice might be useful for many of you, so here’s what I said.

First, I recommended he watch this incredible video from Dr. Sletten of the Mayo Clinic, talking about the various causes and symptoms of CS.

Basically, this video is so awesome, I cried the first time I watched it.  Not, of course, because it was so awful, but because it made me feel validated in a way I truly wasn’t expecting.

In the video, Dr. Sletten explains how central sensitization impacts our body’s ability to process certain types of information.

In other words, it takes all of these normal, everyday bodily sensations that our nervous systems depend on in order for us to survive– and it turns the intensity WAY up.

On my blog, I have written about this the most in terms of pain.  You can feel a light touch on your skin, and have it be excruciatingly painful.  Your nervous system is magnifying the sensation.

But there are many other types of stimuli and sensations that our nervous systems can experience more intensely.  Noise, in my experience, can be a big one.  If someone’s making noise– say, doing construction on the building next door, it can really throw me off and ruin my entire day.   It’s like I just can’t block it out.

Heat, to me personally, is another one.  I’ve been thinking about that a LOT recently, as we’ve had a wave of 95 degree July weather here in Massachusetts.  It’s like… other people can sort of brush it off.  With me, it’s like it heats me up to my very core and I just can’t think clearly.  (Then I start to experience anxiety, which has been TONS of fun!).

So… back to our main topic.

This reader wanted to know if I had any suggestions for how he could look for help.  (He didn’t give me any specifics about his symptoms, or what exactly he’d already tried).  So here is my answer, written for a general audience.

It would be really great if you could find help in one place.

For example, the video from above is from the Mayo Clinic’s Pain Rehabilitation Center in Florida.  This type of a program, ideally, is geared towards helping people with complex pain problems.

If you have the option of attending such a program, I certainly recommend it!  However, this type of program is few and far between, and I’ll be honest with you– I think a lot of other pain clinics have a ways to go, despite how good they look on paper.  (You can read about my disappointing experience at a pain clinic here in Boston a few years ago).

So, while I certainly don’t want to discourage anyone from seeking out help where appropriate, I want this post to provide additional options for people for whom that isn’t an option (or it didn’t work).

What I personally did to manage my symptoms was to work with the appropriate specialist to address each set of symptoms I was experiencing.  Here are some examples, for symptoms that are common in people with CS:

Musculoskeletal Pain

The person who helped me the most with my chronic pain was actually a PT.  He truly changed my life.  He had advanced training in something called pain neurophysiology education, which taught me to view my pain as something that was there to protect me.

As a result, I learned to work with my nervous system, not against it.  I developed a much better sense for when it was okay to push through the pain, and when I really had no choice but to sit and rest.  PNE can’t take away all your pain, but it can help you learn how to work around it (which dramatically reduces the cycle of having setbacks).

There’s also a type of specialist called a physiatrist who specializes in musculoskeletal pain.  Physiatrists work in the specialty Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation.  Basically, they specialize in all of the ways to treat musculoskeletal pain, and they are trained to look at the whole person, rather than focusing in on one body part.

A physiatrist may ask you about your daily life, and how your sleep is.  They may offer you medications such as Lyrica or Cymbalta (see below).  They may also offer different types of injections, such as trigger point injections, to help with muscle tightness.  In general, they can help you think of solutions you may not have thought of.

Other, non-musculoskeletal symptoms

There are definitely other symptoms and conditions that can be caused by central sensitization.  Again, let’s remember that with CS, you’re taking what would have been a normal, helpful bodily sensation and making it extremely intense.

Digestive System

One type of sensation that can be intensified is in your digestive system– what’s commonly known as irritable bowel syndrome.

If you’re having these symptoms, it’s really important that you follow up with a gastroenterologist, to make sure there isn’t anything else going on that could be causing your symptoms.

It may be easy, for example, for your primary care doctor to tell you that it’s stress, or that it’s irritable bowel syndrome, but really, you want to talk to an expert, to make sure it isn’t anything else.

If your GI doctor doesn’t find anything else going on, then it’s time to look into solutions.  There are a wide range of treatment options out there for IBS– there are medications you can take, and you can work with a nutritionist to eliminate dietary triggers.  Stress, of course, is a bigger trigger and it’s important to learn how it affects you.  But keep in mind that it is not the only factor, which is why you should investigate all of your options.

Bladder

Another sensation that can be intensified is the sensation that your bladder is full.  This is one of the potential causes of a condition called interstitial cystitis, which many people with CS/fibromyalgia have.

However, there are other potential causes as well– an issue with the lining of the bladder, or a possible bacterial infection.

So again, it’s important to consult with a specialist (in this case, a urologist) to make sure you aren’t missing something bigger.

Headaches/Fatigue/Dizziness

These are also some common symptoms of CS/fibromyalgia.  However, like everything else, it’s really important to make sure that’s all it is, and there isn’t anything wonky going on in your nervous system.

Your primary doctor, of course, will be the one to direct you where to go in all of these cases, but just to give you an idea, these symptoms would probably be good to check out with a neurologist.

What you will likely find is that all of these specialties will be familiar with CS, as it relates to their own system of the body.

Each specialist may use slightly different terminology, or explain it to you in a different way.  A physiatrist will be talking to about pain.  A gastroenterologist will be talking to you about different types of sensations, as will a neurologist.

But ultimately, these are all different ways of looking at the same thing– the fact that your nervous system is processing information differently than it used to.

So… it isn’t really possible to get help for all of your symptoms from one person.  Because you need to get the information from a specialist.  

There is no one specialist you can see who’d be able to rule out other potential problems in your joints, in your digestive system, in your bladder, etc.  You have to go to someone with specialized knowledge, for each of these different types of symptoms.

So, in the end, I think the most important thing is that you have a supportive and thorough primary care doctor.

You will need this person on board to direct your care, write referrals, etc.

I have recently had an epiphany that there are probably better primary care doctors out there than the one I was seeing.

The woman who was my doctor for over 10 years didn’t really believe fibromyalgia was a real condition, so needless to say, she didn’t treat me for it.

Fortunately, that never stopped me from seeing all the specialists I needed to.  It’s not like my doctor was going to say no, and refuse to write me a referral if I said I was having a problem.

However, I am currently in the process of seeking out a new doctor, because our knowledge base is changing all the time.  And because, of course, I’d prefer to have a doctor who actually believes me!

But I know what it’s like to struggle for answers, and not know where to go for help.  

I wrote this post for you, if you’re in the same boat.   Hopefully I’ve given you a good idea of how you can work within the framework of the health care system to get help.

For more ideas, you can check out the following post.  It’s actually an old post, but I just went back and re-worked it before I answered this reader.  It has a little more detail on various treatments:

Don’t worry!  You can still get help, even if you can’t find a doctor who treats fibromyalgia!

Okay… that’s all I have to say for now!

Wow… this was a lengthy one!

As always, if you have any questions, you can leave a comment below or email me at sunlightinwinter12@gmail.com.

Thanks!

Too much of a good thing: when people don’t really *get* pain science

I wanted to share a really important post with you all this morning, from the author of Chronically Undiagnosed.

She’s a therapist who is dealing with chronic illness.  Recently, she wrote about her experience attending a chronic pain support group that incorporated some of the theories of modern pain science… but did so very badly.

As someone who fervently believes in what pain science has to offer — it’s what originally inspired me to become a physical therapist– I have often felt many of her same frustrations, when people try to stretch pain science beyond the limits of its intended applications, or when they lump in their own personal beliefs about pain which have nothing to do with the actual scientific literature on the subject.

Reading her post, it sounds as though the social worker leading the class did have a basic understanding of pain science.

(By modern pain science, I mean the school of thought that says that pain is a function of our brains that’s meant to protect us, and as a protective mechanism, it doesn’t always work perfectly, or give us an accurate way to gauge what’s actually happening in our bodies. People can experience devastating injuries and feel no pain, or they can experience excruciating pain from injuries that are technically “minor.”  Pain scientists believe this knowledge can help us develop new treatment approaches, once we begin to tap into the fact that pain is here to protect us.  Some of the original proponents of this approach include David Butler and Lorimer Moseley).

It sounds as though Chronically Undiagnosed’s group leader did present some of these anecdotes, to prove that pain can be subjective.  But she did so in a way that was alienating to the group participants.

Chronically Undiagnosed writes:

“The instructors have cited reports of individuals who have either been injured and experienced no pain, or individuals who thought they were injured (but were not) and experienced extreme pain. One example was of a roofer who landed on a 6-inch nail that went through his steel toed boot who presented in the E.R with reports of excruciating pain. He was medicated for pain and the boot removed where it was discovered that the nail had gone through his shoe but between his toes, resulting in zero tissue damage. Additionally pictures of MRI’s were shown where a person had visible spine damage but no pain.

As someone with an advanced degree who has studied and taught research and statistics, I find fault with their examples. In a scientifically based research study, extreme results such as these are considered “outliers” and are not considered statistically significant. And as someone who has both counseled patients with chronic pain and experienced it daily for over 5 years, I find their assumptions to be not only scientifically incorrect but harmful to people experiencing chronic pain.

And now here come the people touting “modern pain science” as a breakthrough in treating pain. If pain is simply a perception created by the brain, then if we change our brains the pain should go away. When I expressed my concerns to the leader of the group she suggested that leading medical institutions in our country (such as Stanford, where I received “injections” that helped me) are “behind” in understanding pain.”

Reading about her experience made me really frustrated and sad, because I had a totally opposite experience when first presented with this information.

However, when I first came across it (under the guidance of my physical therapist Tim, and through watching physiotherapist Neil Pearson‘s lectures) I understood these stories– which ARE statistical outliers– to simply be examples illustrating how pain works.

They are extreme examples, but they demonstrate the fact that pain does not always provide an accurate indication of what is wrong in our bodies.  These stories are meant to educate, not to give people the impression that they ought to be able to magically “turn off” the pain in their brains tomorrow.

Following this, it sounds as though the social worker leading the group made another key mistake, one that I absolutely can’t stand:

She lumped her own personal beliefs about pain in with the theories of modern pain science, without making any distinction in between the two.

I’ve personally seen this before.  The first doctor who ever told me I had a heightened sensitivity to pain never actually told me about any of the neuroscience research behind this phenomenon (central sensitization).  Instead, she told me I was probably suffering from some form of psychological trauma, and that the only way for me to get better was through psychotherapy.

Years later, when I had finally discovered pain neurophysiology education, I found that the people actually researching modern pain science never talked about childhood trauma (or any other kind of psychological trauma).  They didn’t need to– the theory of pain as an imperfect protective mechanism was enough to explain so many of the things that could sometimes go wrong with it.

That’s not to say that no one, ever, experiences physical pain as a result of emotional trauma.  That’s not what I’m trying to say either.  But it’s wrong to be leading a group where you’re presenting people with the theories of modern pain science, and lump in your own personal beliefs about pain without making a distinction.

She did actually lump in other grains of truth.

Some of the other information Chronically Undiagnosed’s social worker presented is, technically, legitimate.

It is true that MRI’s are not always the best predictors of who will actually experience back pain.  There’s a great book, Back Sense, that talks about this.

In a nutshell, if you were to take 100 people off the street and take an MRI of everyone’s spine, you wouldn’t necessarily be able to tell, just by looking at the MRI’s, who was actually experiencing back pain.

We all experience some degeneration to our spines over time, but sometimes this degeneration can be symptom-less.

However, this information should never be used to tell a group of chronic pain patients they shouldn’t be experiencing any pain!

All of these bits of knowledge, which can be helpful– whether it’s pain science, or Back Sense– are meant to be one piece of the puzzle!

And they are meant to help illuminate aspects of patients’ experience.  They are meant to educate.  

They are not meant to blame people, or make them feel responsible for experiencing pain they shouldn’t be feeling!

I see this far too often in the field of pain science.

As a (hopeful) future physical therapist, I’ve followed a number of physical therapists, writers, and researchers on various social media platforms, hoping to learn more about how the field of pain science is evolving.

Unfortunately, I’ve had to go back and actually “unfollow” a bunch of people, because I see the same thing over and over again.  People will get annoyed and actually downright snarky about patients and fellow medical professionals trying to treat certain conditions which are the subject of controversy– the sort of “gray areas.”

One of these areas, in particular, is the sacroiliac joint.  There are a lot of physical therapists out there who don’t believe sacroiliac joint dysfunction is a real thing.

So I’ll sign on to Twitter, and find that someone I respected and followed to learn more about pain science is tweeting out some kind of derogatory commentary about how “the sacroiliac joint doesn’t really move” and what a “sham” it is that people are trying to treat it.

I suppose the evidence for sacroiliac joint dysfunction is really a topic for another post, however to me it’s just another example of people trying to take pain science too far.

Ultimately, I believe these physical therapists’ anger stems from a good place.  From their perspective, they’re probably tired of seeing other medical professionals “waste” patients’ time by treating them for musculoskeletal causes of pain, when they should be focusing on the nervous system.

But really, there are two sides of the same coin.

Yes, pain originates in our brains.  And our brains can shut pain off, in emergency situations.  

But that doesn’t mean patients’ pain isn’t valid.  That doesn’t mean that, once you put them in a 3-hour class where they hear about extreme examples of people not experiencing pain, they should automatically be able to “turn off” their own pain.

No approach will work if you don’t listen to people.  No approach will work if you aren’t kind.  That’s really the bottom line.

Pain science should be used to educate– not to deny the other potential reasons someone could be experiencing pain.

Just as MRI’s aren’t always accurate indicators of who will have back pain, it doesn’t mean that someone in excruciating pain shouldn’t have an MRI.

All of these things represent aspects of the truth, but no one piece should ever be a substitute for looking at the whole picture.

P.S. Please don’t worry, there are plenty of ways to learn about pain science from people who actually do get it!  

For more, you can check out my Resources section.

I also highly recommend Todd Hargrove’s article Seven Things You Should Know About Pain Science.

 

The story of my wrist, and the pot of boiling water (Finally, my own pain science metaphor!).

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Using metaphors to explain how pain works

One of the original reasons I started this blog was to get the word out about the various pain scientists and educators whose work has touched my life (including, but not limited to, Neil Pearson and Lorimer Moseley).

From them, I’ve learned that pain isn’t here to make us suffer (although it seems like it sometimes).  Ultimately, it’s here to keep us safe.

It’s a protective mechanism, and sometimes it can try a little too hard to keep us safe.  A sensitive nervous system is like an overactive alarm system, or an overprotective friend.

It can “zoom in” or “turn up the volume” on pain signals it thinks you need to pay more attention to.   This is what I call the “up” dial.

Your body can also turn down the volume on pain.

There may come a time when your nervous system decides it’s more important to “turn down the volume” on pain– or even block out pain signals completely.

Normally, this “down dial” isn’t something we are able to access consciously.  It’s something our body can do automatically, in times of great danger, if those pain signals are distracting us from getting out of a dangerous situation.

Neil Pearson, for example, tells the story of a patient he once treated who had been hit by a drunk driver on the way to work.  He woke up upside down in his burning car, and realized he had lost an arm in the accident.

The man managed to extricate himself from the car, collect his missing arm, and walk back up to the side of the highway all without feeling any pain.  This is because, in that moment, his body knew that feeling pain would take away from his chances of survival– the most important thing was his getting to safety.  Once he was safely in an ambulance in his way to the hospital, then the pain set in.

Your body has the ability to adjust the level of pain you perceive.

This is a survival mechanism that normally kicks in under emergency circumstances.

However, it is something we can also learn to do consciously with practice, using various techniques to tell our body to “turn down the volume” on pain.  That is the focus of pain neurophysiology education, the approach to pain management that changed my life.

My own metaphor

The really good news about this approach is that you don’t actually have to be a neuroscientist, or even have a huge scientific background, to learn how to do it.

Somehow, once you start to switch over from viewing pain as an enemy to a friend or a guardian, it can start to make an immediate difference in how you perceive it.

That’s why I’ve been so determined to spread the word about some of the metaphors that have helped me.  However, I’ve felt a bit limited in doing this, since I’m also interested in not plagiarizing other’s work.

So today at long last, I got my own metaphor. 

It’s not particularly wild or dramatic.  In fact, it’s pretty subtle (and also makes me not sound terribly coordinated).  However, I think it does a great job of explaining in a down-to-earth way exactly how the nervous system can choose to turn pain signals out, if it benefits your survival to do so.

It’s a small thing, really.  (And actually, it illustrates to you how absent-minded I can be at times, but that’s another matter!).

I was cooking dinner, boiling some ravioli.  They looked about done, and I was starving.  So, without really thinking, I lifted the pot off of the burner with one hand, and started taking it over to the sink to drain.

Halfway to the sink, I realized the pot was much heavier than I’d anticipated.  I realized I hadn’t really been paying attention, and it had been a mistake to pick it up.   Now I felt like my wrist was about to give out, and I was already halfway to the sink.

I quickly thought through my options.  I wanted to put it down instantly, but there wasn’t a clear space on the counter.  I wanted to put another hand up to steady the pot, but the handle was too small and I would have needed a potholder.

My wrist was really starting to hurt, and for a second I considered just dropping the pot altogether.

But no.  I had a vision of scalding water splashing everywhere, including on me, burning my skin.

And just like that– that very second– all the pain in my wrist disappeared.  Nope, my body said.  We are NOT dropping a pot of boiling water on ourselves today.  

My nervous system made an executive decision, in that instant, to block all the pain out.  Ultimately, the prospect of spilling boiling water all over myself was more of a threat to my survival than the pain in my wrist.

I was able to get the pot of water all the way over to the sink without incident.  About 30 seconds after I put it down, that’s when the pain came back.

Like Neil Pearson’s patient making it safely into an ambulance, my nervous system had blocked the pain out just long enough for me to safely put the pot of water down.  Once that was over, the pain came back, to remind me that indeed, I had put my wrist through something strenuous.

It’s been a few hours and my wrist is just a little bit sore.  I know it will go away– it wasn’t a permanent injury or anything.  I just strained it a little bit by trying to carry something it wasn’t strong enough for.  (This is a good reminder that I need to pay more attention in the kitchen, even if I am spaced out and hungry!).

But I wanted to share this with you because I think it provides a good example of how pain isn’t always a clear-cut indicator of what, exactly, is going on in our body. 

Instead, it represents our body’s “safety monitoring system,” warning us about potential threats to our survival, and making sure we choose the course of action that’s most likely to keep us safe.

Of course, if you have chronic pain day in and day out, it can be hard to see pain as a protective mechanism. 

I said it was a protective mechanism– I never said it always perfectly.

Sometimes in the case of chronic pain, the “up” dial can get stuck on.

That’s why, again, it is so important to know that your pain also has a “down” dial, and that, with practice, you can learn to access it.

I hope you found this post helpful!

For more on the metaphors which can help you understand pain, I recommend you check out my posts:

As well as:

That’s all for now!  

Any questions, leave a comment below or email me at sunlightinwinter12@gmail.com!

The doctor who *almost* helped me (How I developed central sensitization, Part 6)

Okay, so here’s the story of the time I thought I’d found the right person to help me, which of course, made it all the more disappointing when it didn’t turn out to be the case.

In telling my story, I’m choosing to gloss over every little ache and pain I had; every time I thought I had some kind of injury, but no one could actually find anything wrong.  It’s not really necessary to the story, and I don’t want you to get bogged down in negativity.  The point, again, is that I did eventually find answers.

But here’s the story of the first time I thought I’d found them.

***

It was 2006; my first time seeing a physiatrist.  Physiatrists are doctors who specialize in non-surgical options to treat musculoskeletal pain– so, basically, they do everything else.  Their approach is generally thought to be more holistic.  They can provide options such as lidocaine and cortisone injections, but they also look at the patient as a whole person and can recommend lifestyle changes as well.  It’s a pretty cool specialty.

And I was pretty much seeing the best one.  I loved Dr. V. the first time I saw her.  She’d won all kinds of awards for going above and beyond to help her patients.  And she was just so… nice.  She provided me with so much hope.

Dr. V. reassured me that there was no reason, as a healthy person in my early 20’s, I shouldn’t be able to do all of the things I wanted to do.

She recommended a bunch of promising options, including trigger point injections, as well as medical acupuncture, which she actually performed herself.

And she was the first person to really explain to me that my brain was magnifying the sensations of pain I felt, “like a computer.”  My brain was “zooming in” and making what should be a small problem, or no problem at all, look like a big problem.

For a time, I really thought Dr. V. was going to be the one to finally “fix” me, to finally reverse this impossible pattern I’d been dealing with for so long.  I felt like she really got me.

***

Dr. V. seemed to understand that, from time to time, I would come in with pain in a new part of my body, and would need someone to tell me whether, in fact, I had an injury or whether it was just pain.

There were so many times. I felt safe; I felt believed.  I just needed a place to go where someone could tell me whether or not I had an injury or not.  I didn’t always need to be referred to physical therapy, or start some new treatment.  Sometimes, the pain would just diminish once someone actually told me it was safe to ignore it.  (Which, as I later learned, makes 100% sense once you learn about how the nervous system works).

The only thing is, Dr. V. did want to refer me elsewhere: to therapy.  She seemed to understand that my brain was distorting my perception of pain, but she kept coming back to the idea that it had a psychological or emotional cause (which, I would later learn, is not a prerequisite for central sensitization).

She offered me the names of a few different therapists she had come into contact with over the years.  I would go and see them, but nothing ever really “clicked.”  Because we were looking for something that wasn’t there– my pain wasn’t being caused by my emotions.

***

What I really needed, again, was for someone to help me understand my physical pain.  As I’ve explained in my Calming Your Nervous System section of this blog, when you have the kind of chronic pain I had (and still have, to an extent) it’s like your body’s pain protection system has gone into overdrive.  It’s trying to protect you, but it’s stuck in the “on” position all the time.

Luckily, the nervous system is complex, and although there are multiple components involved in keeping this process going, there are other aspects of the nervous system which can be used to turn the system “off.”

One way to do that is to understand, rationally, that your body isn’t actually in danger; that you aren’t actually injured.  This is actually the pain principle behind Pain Neurophysiology Education, the approach to chronic pain treatment that finally helped me.

Of course, I didn’t know any of this at the time, but I sort of stumbled upon this principle myself.  A new part of my body would hurt (or an old one would start hurting again) and it would feel real.  It would feel like something was wrong; something was injured or on the verge of breaking.

That’s why it helped me, to go in and see Dr. V.  To be examined by an actual doctor and be told nothing was wrong.  It helped my nervous system feel “safe” again.  Usually, I’d start feeling better within a day or so after my appointment, before I even got to physical therapy or whatever next treatment she’d recommended.  Because she’d already given my nervous system permission to relax and stop hyper-focusing on that part of my body.  The pain would be able to fade into the background.

And I was okay with this pattern.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than anything I’d found yet.  We hadn’t actually been able to break this cycle of mysterious pain that roamed throughout my body, but at least, with Dr. V. I’d been able to find a way to stop it from taking over my entire life when it started to get bad.

***

But here’s the thing.  I was okay with the holding pattern, but Dr. V. was not.  Because I wasn’t actually getting “better” in a linear fashion that she could write in her notes.  And because she could never actually find anything wrong with me.

There was one day I was 10 minutes late for an hour long appointment.  I’d had to take the Red Line to Mass General, where I saw her, and everything about that morning commute had just been a disaster.

And from the moment she walked into the room, everything had changed.  Her face seemed cold, like there was less color in it than usual.

And she told me she didn’t have time to see me that day.  That I’d been taking time away from her other patients; other patients who actually had horrible diseases and disfigurements and reasons to be in pain.

She said she’d tried to help me, but I hadn’t successfully utilized any of the options she’d given me.  And that if I wasn’t going to be responsible about trying to fix my issues, she wasn’t going to have time for me in the future.

And that was that.  I started to cry and attempted to explain myself, but it didn’t matter.  Her mind was made up.

She said she didn’t have time to stay and talk to me if I’d already missed 15 minutes of our 30 minute appointment.   Her secretary, who I’d sort of become friends with, overheard the whole thing and poked her head into the room, gently reminding Dr. V. that my appointment was actually supposed to be for a whole hour.

But it didn’t matter; Dr. V. was so angry at that point that no new information was going to make a difference.  It wasn’t really about the time; it was about getting rid of me.

She didn’t outright tell me never to come back and see her again, but by walking out of the room after 5 minutes, she’d made her message pretty clear.

So I never did.

***

Now that I know so much more about central sensitization, I can see that Dr. V. was wrong on multiple levels.  This is why I like to remind people that central sensitization was actually discovered in rats.  It has to do with brain function and neurons and neurotransmitters, not thoughts and feelings.

Somehow, it was like Dr. V. had vaguely heard of central sensitization somewhere, but hadn’t really gotten the full gist.  A lot of people are like that, actually.  They accept that the nervous system can process pain abnormally, but still think it must have to do with emotions.

And I never actually heard the term from her.  I only learned it once I requested a copy of all of my visit notes and saw it there, in my list of diagnoses.  It was #1: central sensitization.

That whole time– she could have just told me the name for it.  I didn’t even know there was one.  I could have learned about it myself– I could have Googled it.  It was discovered in 1983.  There was more information out there than I was given.

But no.  Central sensitization was just there in two small words, right under a lot of passive-aggressively worded comments about exactly how much of my appointment time I’d missed that last time.

***

It’s sad and it’s really shocking.  I do believe that Dr. V. is a good person who just didn’t have enough information, and who got frustrated.

But it shouldn’t be my job, to get “fired” as a patient and request my own office visit notes, only to finally learn there’s a scientific name for what I was going through that she’d never even bothered to tell me.

I could have looked it up myself and learned about it, instead of going on countless wild goose chases to psychotherapy and the terribly disappointing pain clinic she once sent me to.

***

But at least I have answers now, and you know what?  I think I’m sort of proud of myself for getting as far as I did, on my own.  After all, it basically means I’m a genius, since I was able to stumble upon the main principle of pain neurophysiology education all on my own (right?).

***

As you may know, what really did work for me eventually was to meet a physical therapist who had studied PNE with Neil Pearson.  This physical therapist taught me how to understand my nervous system, and to work with it, instead of against it, and to learn ways to get my body to turn the “volume” of the pain back down.

This is why I feel so, so strongly about PNE, and why I was originally inspired to become a physical therapist.

In a way, Dr. V. is part of my inspiration as well– I see how important it is for healthcare practitioners to actually understand the specifics of how chronic pain works.  It’s not enough to just be an empathetic person, because apparently empathy can be replaced by frustration over time, if a patient isn’t getting better.

If you want to know more about PNE, you can check out the Calming Your Nervous System section of my blog, and also definitely check out the work of Neil Pearson!

Hope this was helpful!

Learning about central sensitization: the power of naming, and the future of pain treatment

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Whew.

I have really enjoyed writing my more personal posts recently– I love to tell a good story, and to feel as though my past experiences have some meaning.  (And I’ve really appreciated all your kind words, comments, and shares!).

But also, wow– some of those posts were very emotional for me.  Right now I’m kind of feeling the need to come up for some air.

So let me back up for just for a minute, and talk about some of the things I’m optimistic about, in terms of the big picture in treating chronic pain.

The more we know about central sensitization and the way pain works:

It gives us the power to name things.  

This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about recently.  Sometimes, there is a healing power that comes just from being able to put a name to something; to receive a diagnosis, and know that you aren’t the only one.

As I explained in my last post, when I finally learned the term central sensitization, it helped me to feel validated, and so much less alone.

Sometimes healing can come not from completely “fixing” your condition, but from being able to make meaning out of it for yourself; constructing a coherent narrative that makes sense.

And of course, it’s much easier to make sense out of something when you actually know what it is.

Having an actual diagnosis can help us explain ourselves to others

At least, I assume it does.

As I have mentioned in past posts, the truth is that I have often struggled to articulate what’s happened to me in the people in my life.

Of course, it didn’t help that I didn’t really have an explanation that made sense for it myself, for most of the time, or that even now that I have an explanation, it’s a condition that’s still fairly unknown.

This is why I am doing my best to raise awareness and get the word out.

The more we, as a society, understand about pain, the more treatments we can develop.

There is just so much to say here.  The more I learn about pain, the more and more I realize I don’t know.  It’s really such a fascinating subject.  I try to talk about some of the highlights on my blog, just to give you a sense of how broad the subject really is.

But in a nutshell, our growing scientific understanding of pain can lead us to all sorts of new treatments, such as:

New pharmacological approaches: I’ve recently discovered Gracie Gean’s Youtube channel, and her story about receiving ketamine infusions to treat CRPS.  I totally recommend checking it out!

Brain imaging and biofeedback: I’ve written before about the work of Christopher deCharms and others at Stanford University, who use functional MRI to teach patients to mentally “turn the volume down” on their pain.

Pain neurophysiology education

And of course, once you understand that pain is one of your body’s protective responses– it’s actually there to keep you safe, not make you miserable– this can help you learn to work with it, not against it.

This is the premise of pain neurophysiology education, which I talk about in the “Calming Your Nervous System” section of my blog.

When I was in the midst of my struggle, I happened to find a physical therapist who had taken a PNE course with Neil Pearson, and that was the moment things really changed for me.

I learned to view my pain not as an automatic indicator that something was wrong or broken in my body, but as my body’s attempts to protect me.  And, each time something hurt, it was possible my body was overreacting, like a jumpy alarm system, or an overprotective friend.

This helped me to mentally take a step back when things began to hurt, and re-evaluate what I intellectually thought the pain was likely to mean.  And even just realizing that I had the ability to do this– that pain didn’t always have to mean something was wrong– helped me to begin to end the cycle I’d been caught in.

So, that’s all for now.

I’ve got a bunch of posts planned for the next few weeks that I’m really excited about.

I’ve also recorded a podcast interview with Matthew Villegas for The Capable Body Podcast about my experience with pain neurophysiology education.  Although I was afraid I sounded super awkward, Matt assures me the episode will be good!  It should be coming out sometime in September– I’ll be sure to let you know when it does.

Stay tuned!