Category Archives: Pain Education

17Jun/15

Sticks and stones

Sticks and stones by Coloured Pencil Magazine (2014)

The old saying goes, “sticks and stones will break my bones, but words can never harm me”, however this is not exactly true when it comes to messages that are used to explain pain. Of course you could argue that words only cause harm if we interpret them as harmful rather than what they are per se, just words. Easier said than done!

Earlier this week I saw the word ‘instability’ written in reference to low back pain. This is a word that has been used frequently as a means to justify the use of something to create ‘stability’ and hence solve back pain. It has not worked.

The reason it has not worked is because there is no instability, and more importantly because pain is not a structure. I emboldened those words.

Pain is a whole person, emerging in that whole person in respect of a perceived threat. That is not a structure or a pathology. It is the whole person’s response to that pathology or injury that manifests as pain (in a bodily location), involving a number of systems that have a role in protecting us: e.g./ the nervous system, autonomic nervous system, immune system, sensorimotor system.

An injury or a pathology is not the same as pain. We cannot equate them as they are poorly related. An injury is an injury, and pain is pain, the latter being one of a number of responses to the former.

Back to instability. What does it suggest to the recipient of the message, “You have instability, which is why you have back pain”? How will this affect their pain, bearing in mind this is a pretty threatening thought? How will it affect their movement?

If there is true instability from a serious injury or a pathology that has affected the vertebrae to a significant degree, this calls for urgent surgical care. We are not talking about this scenario though, rather the number one global health burden that is low back pain. This pain is not explained by instability. If anything, the use of this word creates dependence rather than a proactive approach to restoring normal, confident movement and living life with less or no pain.

Pain is the vehicle that brings most people to the clinic. We need to give meaning to the individual’s meaning about their pain that they have already created, bringing their thinking into alignment with what we really know about pain. We must convey the right messages from the start to reduce the risk of chronicity. I just want to add that we need to tackle pain in the broadest way from the beginning, incorporating all dimensions–physical, emotional and cognitive–but importantly, how these interact as the whole person with prior experience, beliefs, genetics, gender, co-morbidities etc. The step-wise approach of trying medication, then physio, then interventions, then psychology etc (not always in that order!) does not work. It does not work. The whole-person needs to be addressed from word go. The whole climate and culture of health-caring for pain must change. And this includes the words we use, in reference to my earlier point.

When we understand pain, the actions that we take change for the better. When it makes sense and we know that we are safe to move and live, it takes us in the right direction. Each person has their own lived experience of pain that has been cultivated through the development of all the protective systems that have been subject to prior demands, and learned how to react in certain situations. This makes some people more vulnerable to chronic pain. Let’s help these people by asking the right questions at the start so that we can change the course that they are heading on.

We can and must do better. The science is there to be used and the thinking is there to be used. With the blending of neuroscience and philosophical thought, we are now in a time of great optimism. We can make lasting change for our generation and the next as we change our thinking and take big action across society and the globe, together.

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Richmond Stace: Specialist Pain Physiotherapist

My overarching aim is to change the way that society thinks about pain so that we can tackle what is the number one global health burden, chronic pain. One to one with individual sufferers, via writing and talking, and the UP | Understand Pain campaign, I hope to shift thinking so that we can reduce the suffering that people feel across the globe.

16Apr/15
UP | Understanding Pain

Bec’s Story — overcoming chronic pain

In support of the @upandsing chronic pain awareness campaign by UP | Understand Pain, Bec has very kindly written her story of achievement. Bec illustrates how we can change our pain and overcome chronic pain by understanding her pain, and taking action based on this knowledge. Enjoy.

“I suffer from chronic pain. This is when pain persists beyond the normal expected healing time. In writing this story, I wanted to describe to you the affect that living in chronic pain had on me as a whole person, since understanding this is vital in order to improve our understanding of both ongoing pain and its treatment.

‘YOU CAN IF YOU THINK YOU CAN.’ Norman Vincent Peale

‘Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.’ Soren Kierkegaard

I didn’t crawl before I started to walk. I have never had a good sense of direction or spatial awareness – I get disorientated coming out of a shop, not knowing which direction I need to turn. I have hypermobility in my joints. I have perfectionist tendencies. I fractured a vertebra when I was eighteen. I have always placed a great deal of importance on exercise and struggle to be as happy without it. Doctors told me I would live in long-term persistent pain.

These are all facts about me. Facts that at first may seem to have no connection. But since nothing works in isolation, everything about us – our experiences, our personalities, the words we hear and stories are told, create a whole. And in order to overcome chronic pain we must learn to deeply understand it, not just from an external objective perspective, but also from a uniquely personal and internal one. Chronic pain comes from and affects the whole person and it therefore must be the whole person who is treated. Once this happens, it is possible not only to overcome chronic pain, but to redefine old stories, undo unhelpful thoughts, alter perspective of past experiences, develop healthier habits and ways of living, know that we can change. Not just our pain, but ourselves…in any way we wish to.

‘Movement anchors thought.’ Cara Hannaford.

I don’t believe that our minds and bodies are separate entities and I have always found a joyous energy in movement that I could not create in any other way. I am told that as a baby I was desperate to get moving and began walking at nine months. On my first trip to the swimming pool as a toddler, I jumped straight into the water the moment I saw it. Growing up, I spent hours outside, climbing trees, building dens, riding my bike. And I was always trying out new sports: dancing, gymnastics, trampolining, roller-skating. From the age of 10 to 18 I played competitive netball. But it was horse riding I really loved once my family moved to Norfolk when I was five. As I grew older, I recognised the deep sense of connection to the world I found when I was engaged in physical activities. It wasn’t the technical aspects of riding I enjoyed the most, but the sheer physicality of it – both whilst in the saddle and working on the yard.

In 2000, aged-18 (during my gap year before university), I had a seemingly uneventful fall during a riding lesson. But an awkward landing caused a compression or vertebral fracture to my spine. Looking back now, it was my first experience of the ambiguous nature of pain. In the first moments after the fall it was incredibly painful, but this quickly eased and I thought I had just winded myself. I got up, walked the horse back to the stables, untacked her and lay down for a rest. But in the following thirty minutes I experienced excruciating pain in my back. I was taken to A&E and x-rays and scans revealed the fracture – it was a clean break without any splintering. This was a fortunate discovery, not only because it meant an operation wasn’t necessary, but also because a splinter could have severed my spinal cord as I moved around after the fall. I remember the consultant berating me for this, which created an intense feeling of fear of how different my life could so easily have been, of the fragility of a life well known – a fear that never completely left me from that moment onwards.

I spent a week in hospital lying as still as possible until a back brace could be fitted. I can recollect the high level of pain only through memories of pleading for more morphine before it was allowed; and from attempts to writhe around to try to redistribute the pain to other parts of my body (although I was held still by the nurses). I spent the following four months in my back brace permanently, a rather unattractive bulky white contraction aimed at preventing kyphosis (curvature of the spine) while the fracture healed. For a further two months I used it only when I was out of the house for long periods. Occasionally, I used a wheelchair when a lot of walking would have been involved. But the pain subsided after just weeks of the accident.

Within six months I was back in the gym, running and horse riding again. I spent the two months I had left before starting university travelling around Europe: I ran the streets of waking cities; mountain biked in the Alps; paraglided off the coasts of Greek Islands; and went whitewater rafting in Austria. These are the parts of the trip I remember vividly due to feeling enormous gratitude that I was still able to do them. It was the type of gratitude created by a near miss, a lucky escape, the insight that life can change in a second. My accident made me realise the ability to move our bodies is a gift. It is a gift that not everyone is given, or gets to keep. Running became a prayer. The heightened awareness of the ground beneath me in those first few steps provides immediate comfort. And then as I settle into the rhythm, the motion becomes an energy, which is like life waking up inside me. Running gives me a connection to something bigger, something both within and beyond myself. I am mindful, totally present in the moment, immersed in the feeling of moving and, if outside, in my surroundings.

‘People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel.’ Maya Angelou.

For the majority of the following twelve months my back gave me few problems, but towards the end of my first year at university I began getting bouts of terrible pain in it. A new MRI scan and x-ray revealed what I was told was Degenerative Disc Disease, and that the fluid from inside one of my discs had leaked, pressing on nerves – the cause of the pain. I received some physiotherapy and the pain subsided over the next couple of months.

I have since learnt that Degenerative Disc Disease is a very general term used to describe changes in the spine – a normal part of the ageing process. Aged 19, one of my discs had degenerated faster than was usual for someone my age, (but not an uncommon result of a spinal trauma), which it was why it was used to describe the cause of my pain at the time. However, what the label actually meant wasn’t explained to me, and the power of the word ‘degenerative’ (suggesting progressive deterioration) and ‘disease’ (implying impairment or abnormal function), remained long after the pain had disappeared. I became more cautious of activities that may threaten my back’s ‘safety’, especially falling, and concerned that in the future I may have further problems relating to a condition I now believed I irreversibly had. A more accurate description of the situation would have been to simply state that one of my discs had degenerated.

‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ William Shakespeare, Hamlet.

Throughout my twenties I experienced pain in my back on a fairly regular basis, but nothing too debilitating or lasting much longer than a month or so. I remained very active: as I was now living in London, mostly running and going to the gym. However, from the age of 26 I also began getting a recurrent pain in the outer part of my left knee – not an uncommon for problem runners. Various physiotherapists informed me it was Iliotibial Band Syndrome (a tightness or inflammation of the ligament that runs down the outside of the thigh from the hip to the shin), and gave me exercises to treat it. But they never provided a long-term solution and I began to find it increasingly irritating as the pain reoccurred more often; for five years it prevented me from running more than a few miles, and sometimes appeared when I was just walking.

In March 2013, the knee pain began again and this time I set out to find an alternative treatment since traditional physiotherapy hadn’t worked. Whilst I did so, I stopped running altogether. The knee pain simmered down but in May 2013 I noticed soreness in the front of my hip – it felt like I’d pulled a muscle. Yet despite reducing exercise even further over the summer, it didn’t improve – in fact the soreness heightened and spread around the back of my hip (a burning-like pain), and for a few weeks acute tenderness in my calves and shins developed.

In September 2013 I began seeing Christian Poole, a Sport and Exercise Rehabilitation Coach (specialising in running) who uses an Applied Functional Science approach, which targets the cause rather than symptom of an injury, unlike previous physiotherapy I’d received. Since my focus was very much on the returning knee pain, which I saw in isolation, in my naivety, I didn’t mention the other more recent pains I had. Short-term injuries were common because I exercised a lot, so I still didn’t think much of the hip pain. I presumed I simply hadn’t rested it enough yet.

We began a running re-education and rehabilitation programme targeting the potential cause of my knee pain, which would change my running form and improve the overall movement of my body. However, within weeks we had to discontinue because the soreness around the back and front of my hip worsened significantly, spreading into my right gluteus muscle and lower back. I also got sharp shooting pains down my right leg and in the outer left knee (a different type of pain to what I’d experienced in this area before). My emotional response to this was stress and further frustration: I’d finally found what I believed would be a way to alleviate my returning knee pain, only to be faced with a new set of problems.

I will never know for certain, but it seems probable that the following factors: whatever injury originally caused my hip pain; the importance I placed on running (or not running); my emotional response to pain at this point; and the prolonged and incorrect belief there was a structural abnormality in my spine (‘Degenerative Disc Disease’) contributed to what happened next – a persistent, ongoing pain response. Scans in 2014 showed that there is now no degeneration to my discs that wouldn’t be expected for my age, yet for many years I had a misguided perception that this wasn’t the case. What I had always attributed as the cause of my reoccurring back pains didn’t exist. Therefore, it is possible that for a long time my central nervous system was becoming gradually sensitized, firing pain as protection, when no protection was actually necessary…Perhaps the injury to my hip was just the final trigger.

‘When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That is relativity.’ Albert Einstein.

By December treatments were reduced to symptomatic relief as the pain spread further up my back and neck, more intense, ever present and distracting. Moving hurt. Not moving hurt. Walking and simple everyday activities (loading the washing machine, cooking, getting dressed) became challenges. My general level of energy dropped significantly: being in constant pain over a prolonged period is tiring.

Initial investigations didn’t reveal any obvious cause of my pain and I began to feel as though I was going insane: I would go to sleep with pain in one area only to wake with it somewhere else instead or in addition. The moving of the pain felt like a cruel game – like one of those tricks where someone hides the ball under a cup, moves it around, and no matter how carefully you watch, it’s never under the cup you think it’s going to be. I saw my pain as a separate entity, a small gremlin of a creature, which merrily jumped around my body parts, taunting and laughing at me as I tried to pin it down, unable to catch it and hold it still. My knowledge of pain at this point was that for pain to be present, there had to be a physical injury or illness. This idea – this myth – is embedded in most of us. If I’d had a better understanding of pain before this experience, then I would have felt less fearful. But I didn’t understand, and as a result I felt anxious and even more stressed.

Fortunately serendipity had been kind to me. It was lucky I’d decided to see Christian about my knee, because he did understand what the behaviour of my pain now suggested. He began educating me about the neurophysiology of chronic pain using the work of Professors Lorimer Moseley and David Butler. However, in order to rule out a physical cause for certain, I went for x-rays and MRI scans on my back and hip. Due to NHS waiting-times, it was further seven months from the referral in December before these were carried out and the NHS would offer me no treatment until we had the results.

Consequently, because the behaviour of my pain strongly indicated it, in the meantime Christian and I treated my pain as chronic – a result of an unstable central nervous system. Over the following months we used a variety of strategies to begin to overcome the pain: mobilisation and massage, trigger-point therapy, specific exercises, and graded exposure and pacing of physical activity. I educated myself as much as a could about chronic pain and neuroscience-based treatments. As a result, I understood that gradually increased activity was part of the treatment process and that movement, even if it hurt, wasn’t going to physically harm me (aerobic exercise at the correct level calms the central nervous system, and controlled movement prevents secondary pain from muscular deconditioning and joint stiffness). But moving parts of my body through pain was counterintuitive and the complexity of chronic pain scared me. My prior experience of pain, which stayed in one area, was familiar and felt concrete. There is damaged tissue or bone, which is treated in some way: the pain goes away. Now pain itself was the problem and this felt abstract and evasive. Despite this, in January I made some significant progress and even began introducing some very short run/walk exercises.

However, in that seven-month wait, in my mind there still remained a degree of uncertainty – and sometimes hope – as to the cause of my pain, that it still might be the result of an injury or structural issue. This option felt like it would be less complex to treat and more understood (by myself, doctors and those around me). The waiting for the MRI scans undoubtedly impacted negatively on my pain, mindset and therefore effectiveness of the treatment. It was a liminal space to live in for over half a year and to have been without the care of a private clinician at this stage (and as it turns out at any stage) would have made remaining at work and coping with my pain impossible, especially as my interactions with medical practitioners working for the NHS were largely a source of frustration and anxiety rather than supportive and constructive.

‘There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner.’ Diane Setterfield.

I saw numerous GPs over these seven months as they coordinated my care (providing medical notes when I needed to work reduced hours; sending me for and receiving the results of scans; and finally referring me to the pain management team). I also later saw a number of physiotherapists and a pain psychologist. With the exception of one physiotherapist I saw just once, but who I will forever remember for her positivity about my situation in a culture of different beliefs, all delivered a similar message: there is no cure for chronic pain. I would have to learn to live with it. They only ever talked of “pain management” as a long-term solution, usually with the help of painkillers. In the earlier months what my GPs said to me planted enormous doubt around my chances of getting better. These were medically trained doctors and I was no expert. Why would they say this to me if it wasn’t true? I couldn’t shake what they’d said: and what they said terrified me. I was very social, outgoing, active. These things were already becoming difficult to keep up in a constant pain-state.

I was desperate for reassurance from other sources that there was a way to overcome my pain. However, websites of the NHS and pain management clinics, along with those of pain charities, all delivered a similar message: it was possible to learn to manage chronic pain to gain a greater quality of life, but not to cure it. I was – and remain even more so now – confused as to why they all repeated this message when scientific, evidence-based research around the brain, pain and neuroplasticity has proved this no longer needs to be the case. Newer treatments have proved effective in overcoming chronic pain conditions. I am now evidence of this myself.

But back then I searched for blogs written by survivors of chronic pain who had made recoveries…I found none. Instead I found blogs and posts written by desperate people who had been living in pain for many years, possibly typed out sitting in the darkness at their computers, just like I was. I was left with two opposing messages. There is a Chinese proverb that says: ‘When faced with two points of view – better to choose to believe the more positive one.’ I made a conscious decision at this point to do just this and returned to what I knew to be the latest biopsychosocialist treatment approaches, adding the work of Dr. Adriaan Louw to my list of pain educators.

However, this was constantly tested as the GP who took on my case was frustrated by my determined attitude: he repeatedly told me I needed to accept that there was no cure for my pain and that private practitioners who said otherwise did so because they had a vested interest (i.e. my returning ‘business’). He was also annoyed I wouldn’t accept painkillers. I was adamant I didn’t want to begin a process of relying on them or want to mask the pain: I needed to feel it so I could work to overcome it, not a short-term fix. His response was to tell me I was in a state of denial, and that people who refused painkillers always came back in the end for them, often in a worst state. I felt criticised rather than cared for.

I believe that all the NHS practitioners I saw were well intentioned but either that their pain education is out of date and inadequate, or that the system doesn’t allow for necessary treatments to take place due to short-term cost demands. I have since spoken to a number of GPs, who informed me they know little of the latest neuroscience-based research around pain, yet they are the first contact for a chronic pain patient and what they say matters. I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t by chance been seeing Christian during this time: the only voices I’d have heard would have been of those who told me there was no way to fully recover…

The additional anxiety caused by negative medical prognosis and information on the Internet impacted on my pain – now living alongside it was fear. Fear that my pain would never go away. I tried to ignore it, but in the ever-presentness of the pain, the fear gnawed away at me in the background. And despite the progress made in January, by March the pain had spread to more parts of my body and significantly heightened. Some places, such as below my ribs became incredibly sore, I had stabbing pains continuously down the entire right side of my body, turning my right hip caused an intense shooting pain… And although my resolve to overcome my pain didn’t waver, Christian, and some practitioners whose research I’d read, were lone voices of hope in my world. I didn’t doubt the science, or the treatment approach, but I did often doubt myself. I knew it was necessary to manage my stress and fears to overcome my pain, but was struggling to do so. No one else I knew could offer me reassurance because most found it difficult to understand that there was no physical cause of my pain and were genuinely perplexed by what was happening to me.

‘My suffering left me sad and gloomy.’ Yann Martel, Life of Pi.

My pain, the gremlin, was winning. The constant state of discomfort had an ever-increasing affect on my life. Events that required I stay for a given length of time, (a birthday party, a wedding, a dinner out, a meeting at work), or imposed activities and environments (crowds, travel, sitting or standing for long periods) evoked a claustrophobic feeling.

My general health started to deteriorate. I couldn’t sleep, was fatigued and easily caught viruses. I felt guilty if I visited someone and then felt unwell. I often had to cancel plans to meet friends. My parents began travelling from Norfolk to clean my flat. Activities I could take part in were restricted. Walking and driving became problematic because my neck was too rigid and painful to turn – I had to rotate my whole body to cross the road or check at junctions. I have a physically and cognitively energetic job as a teacher and senior leader in a primary school, and although I remained at work for the majority of the time, my capacity and performance were affected.

And I deeply missed running and exercising. Not just because these had previously formed large parts of my identity and social life but because of what moving my body, and physically pushing myself means to me. Because of the clarity of thought and inner-calmness I find in them. Without them, I couldn’t see a way out: I saw myself standing, dressed in my running kit, alone in the middle of an empty road, enclosed by a thick fog. Being unable to run, felt like an ironic joke. What once had been a source of comfort, a means of escape, was an activity I associated with pain. And by March 2014 I was overwhelmed by how physically fragile I perceived myself to be. There was a total disconnect between my mind and my body, which scared and frustrated me in equal measure. By now just thinking about running made my pain worse. I was unable to truly imagine ever running again.

Pain infiltrated every movement, every thought, every plan, every conversation, every interaction. It was there in my body, in my facial expression, in my words, in the tone of my voice. It was there in my laughter. It was there in the reflection of light as I poured water into a glass. Others couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. It painted the world in muted colours. It was like watching each moment through a dirtied window, everything slightly marked and smudged, and always from a three-step distance from everyone else. My experience of the world now felt different because pain added an extra unpleasant sensation to every moment. My perceptions of space and pace altered: sometimes action around me became too fast, sometimes it became disorientatingly slow; busy, thriving, energetic places became threatening, oppressive. These things sometimes provoked a type of loneliness that was engulfing. A kind of detaching loneliness. A kind of loneliness at its most acute when I was surrounded by people. A kind of loneliness that made me want to be alone – because it was the least lonely place to be.

Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’ Mary Anne Madmacher

However, there was progress and hope – days when my pain lessened, and although initially just for short periods, moments when I was completely pain free. In these I experienced a lightness of body akin to floating. The same feeling as that very first day of spring after winter – that feeling that lasts only a second in the very moment you step outside and suddenly notice the air is warmer. Shapes and colours returned with a more intense clarity and brightness.

And I was intent on not being completely reduced by my pain. The deterioration in the quality of my life and my passion for running only made me more resolute. I refused to be signed off work, and as my pain improved I began volunteering at running events to reconnect with the community I missed. I felt a deep sense of identification and belonging here and was reminded that runners believe that our bodies achieve what our minds believe. Reconnecting with this helped me enormously to get back up each time I was knocked down. I gained resilience from recognising progress, no matter how small. And for a reason I cannot explain, throughout the whole experience, a notion that good would eventually be born from it drove me on. Some very close friends supported me in remaining focused on this when I became fearful or doubtful. These people still saw me, as me – a person beyond my pain. This too was important.

From April to June 2014 more steady improvements in my condition were made. Finally, in June the scans and x-rays were completed and showed there were no structural causes of my pain. I was put on a waiting list to see a NHS pain management team. By now, my pain was consistently at a much lower level and had settled along my right side in a line from hip to neck. Changing my pain so that it remained only in this area was significant progress and a relief. My pain was no longer a gremlin that jumped around, but a crocodile that rested along the side of my spine. Yet each time I attempted to increase my activity – walk a little further, cycle for a few minutes, or just be more active in day-to-day tasks – my pain flared up. The crocodile dragged me under water again every time I moved too much or whose presence I couldn’t ignore if I stayed still for too long.

I was told it would be at least another three months before an assessment with a NHS pain management team. I also understood by this point that whatever they might offer me in terms of support, would be from a viewpoint of helping me ‘manage’, rather that ‘treat’, my pain. This wasn’t what I wanted. I had no interest in engaging in a process of this nature: I knew it would feed my fears, and fear knocked me off course. I knew that my pain could go, but not that it would, or when this would happen. This, and worrying I’d never be able to run or exercise again was a limiting issue, preventing me from moving forward again. As a result, Christian referred me to Richmond Stace, feeling that at this stage a new voice; his expertise in chronic pain conditions specifically; a change of clinic I didn’t already associate with pain (or running), could help me to overcome my pain further.

‘When you become aware that pain can change you’ve started on the right path, when you know that you can change your pain, then you’re really moving forwards. Don’t fear pain – change it.’ Richmond Stace.

During my first appointment with Richmond, I described my pain to him. But he listened to and heard me – the whole person. He saw the altered sense of self that it had created. This was the first step that really enabled me to know, rather than just be aware of, my pain experience as one within a whole. My pain was not in isolation from the rest of my self. One of the first things he did was to get me to refer to my pain as my pain, rather than the pain as I had been doing. My pain was coming from me, my brain, and therefore was part of me. I felt fully seen for who I was at that moment. But he also reassured me that this wasn’t who I had to remain, since someone who was continually living in pain, was someone I desperately didn’t want to be.

We began a programme that built on the treatment I had already received, continuing to incorporate specific exercises, manual therapy and mobilsation techniques. We also added in a graded motor imagery programme. This included: mirror feedback (performing very precise movements in front of a mirror in order to provide visual feedback to rewire the neuro network within the brain to create new maps); and an online imagery recognition programme to treat my altered nervous system by exercising the brain in measured steps. But as well as treating my pain neurologically, we also began to look at improving other aspects of my life: ways to treat my fatigue, insomnia, and weakened immune system; ways to tackle my fears; ways to manage the demands of life that had become challenges in pain. I had already begun mindfulness meditation as I had read about its benefits in managing living in chronic pain. Richmond coached me how to use and apply it to improve my quality of life as a whole, and explained how it changes pain given its calming affect on the central nervous system’s ‘fight or fight’ mode. We also set very specific targets of what I wanted to achieve in the long-term, such as running a marathon.

Over the following months we began working on this goal. But since just thinking about physical activity would make my pain worse, we started by using visualization techniques to prepare my brain for these in a way it would perceive as non-threatening. First there was an imagery recognition process using photographs of other runners, and then by watching other runners themselves and imagining myself in their position. I then applied specific visualization techniques, which used brain and body, to imagine myself running. Over the course of the following months I would practise these daily, often with the help of music, words and mantras, and gradually, imagining running and other physical activities no longer made my pain worse. Within a couple of months my pain levels had reduced further, and I was able to walk and move more without my pain worsening. I was also experiencing longer periods without pain and by August I felt confident enough to do some yoga. In June, this had seemed like an impossible idea. In October I started running again. In November I completed a 5km. In February 2015 10km. In March (almost two years since the pain had begun) a half-marathon. I still had regular pain during these periods, but bit by bit I learnt to disassociate it from movement, learnt to nudge into it, work around it, sometimes even use it to my advantage. It didn’t all suddenly become easy – at times the process felt relentless and exhausting. However, I was now in control of my pain, rather than my pain being in control of me.

Key to the process was individualisation. Not only did we work towards the goals I had set – things so important to me they would drive me forward – but we also incorporated strategies to challenge the affect that negative words had previously had on my progress, as well as aspects of my personality, mindset and beliefs about past experiences that may be causing the persistence of my pain. As a result, even in times when my pain flared up, I could increasingly remain feeling focused, positive, safe and reassured. These strategies were taken from a variety of fields – from writing, philosophy, sport, psychology, and science. It was finding what worked best for me. I deepened my understanding of chronic pain to understand my own particular pain so well that I could overcome it. I now perceive any flare-up as an opportunity to learn, rather than something to be feared – although these flare-ups are becoming fewer and further between each month now.

‘YOU CAN IF YOU THINK YOU CAN.’ Norman Vincent Peale

Overcoming my chronic pain was the most physically, mentally and emotionally challenging thing I have ever done. But in retraining my body how to move, my mind how to think, myself how to be, it has left me not only running further than I have in eight years (with no knee or back pain). It has also taught me to find the same joy and energy in stillness as I find in movement. It taught me to live my life with greater positivity, confidence, compassion, gratitude, and to be more fully in the present moment.

And to anyone living in persistent pain: it is possible to overcome chronic pain. You do not have to learn to live with it, or manage it. You can treat it and change it. No matter how out of reach this may seem, know that it is true. ‘You can if you think you can.’

11Apr/15
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50 strokes

Ajahn Brahm tells the story of a monk who thought he deserved punishment for breaking a monastic rule. He had knowingly done wrong and expected reprimand, yet this was not the way. The monk insisted, so Ajahn Brahm prescribed 50 strokes. The thought of this ancient punishment undoubtedly filled the monk with fear yet he knew this was his fate. However, no whip was produced but instead a cat, which the monk was ordered to stroke—50 times. After the 50 strokes of the cat there was peace and calm and the passing of a learning experience. Change was afoot. 

In physiotherapy we use our hands to treat and create calm in a body that is protecting itself, perceiving a range of cues to be threatening. It has been thought that moving joints, muscles and nerves bring about the desired changes (or not if unwisely applied) because of a change in the structures. Science has since taught us otherwise, and that in fact what we are really doing is changing the processing in the body systems and then the recipient has a different and better experience—pain eased and movement more natural and thoughtless. 

Touch is very human. Touch is a part of the way we develop in the early years, a lack of touch being detrimental to normal development. So potent when the meaning is aligned with a sense of creating wellbeing and soothing woes both physical and emotional, touch should be part of therapy for any pain condition. Interweaving hands-on treatments during sessions, teaching patients how to use touch themselves, teaching carers and partners how they can use touch, all create the conditions for healthy change. 

Touch send signals from the nerves in the skin and muscles to the spinal cord and then onwards to the brain. In this way, the body is an extension of the brain and the brain an extension of the body, demonstrating  how we are  a whole person with no system or structure being in isolation to any other. Using touch is literally sculpting the representation of the body that exists in the brain, like moulding clay into a humanly shape. And of course, a shape has a function and the two are not distinct. The more precise the shape, the better the function. The manifestation of this being a normal sense of self in how we think and feel and a move. Normalising, desensitising, to me are one and the same. 

– 50 strokes of the area of the body being protected, much like stroking the cat then, sculpts our ever changing brain and sense of physical body. The physical body exists and occupies space with the ever-potential of action, yet this does not exists without thought—it is my thought, the meaning that I give to my body that creates what it is in any given moment. When the strokes feel pleasant, or at least not painful, then this is your body and brain perceiving the action as being non-threatening and learning that the area is safe. The more of this the better. The same applies with movement: any action that is tolerable or feels good is the body (your whole self) saying ‘yes, that’s ok’. And that’s what we practice and practice. 

To overcome and change pain is to normalise and to alter one’s relationship with pain and overall perception. We have much more say in this than most people realise but once they understand their pain, what pain really is and what they can do, change occurs in the desired direction. 

Puuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. 

05Apr/15
Pain Coach Programme

At a distance

With people coming far and wide for some years now, the Pain Coach programme has been designed to work at a distance when individuals are not able to regularly attend the clinics. The best case scenario is meeting face to face, but subsequently the use of technology allows sessions to be conducted with ease thereafter. I use all forms of communication: text, email, phone and Skype; which means that people can access the programme in the vast majority of cases.

Having used distance sessions for some time, I have seen how individuals benefit and move forward. Overcoming chronic pain is a learning process and distance learning has always been a successful mode of education. If done in the right way, the learning required to overcome pain is no different.

What do I mean by learning as opposed to treatment?

Treatment encompasses many forms of learning. Learning is the way we take new information and adapt for the better. Overcoming chronic pain is an active process and not a passive process. And whilst there is a role for hands-on therapy in persisting pain, to simply lie in a treatment room and have something done to you is absolutely not enough to move forward with the potential that everybody has within themselves.

To overcome chronic pain, the individual must learn about their pain (some biology and what influences this biology) so that they can make informed and clear decisions about how to be healthy and create the conditions to move forward. Nothing happens without thinking in the right way about a problem. From this foundation of understanding, specific training is needed to re-learn normal movement and body sense as well as developing the confidence to move and be active once more in different scenarios. This is all learning.

The Pain Coach Programme

The programme is designed for you to overcome your pain. Individualised for your life and your vision of where you want to go, the concept of coaching is a potent way of moving forward. A coach is always looking at different ways of achieving success and tackling problems, learning and getting up quickly if things go wrong. The coach uses a growth mindset, the mindset that knows that things change. We are not fixed, we are always changing. Which way do you want to go? If you are suffering with chronic pain, all the changes have been about on-going protection. Now it is time to go in a different direction. Change is one of the few certainties in life. Buddhists call it impermanence. Nothing is permanent, even the pain you are in right now. This pain will change and there is something you can do. There are still, despite the science of pain telling us differently for years, too many messages about chronic pain that are simply untrue, including the one that says you must just manage or cope.

In essence, with your new knowledge and development of skills, you become your own Pain Coach, making effective decisions about how to move forward at each step. This releases you from the cycle that you are currently within, including how you learn from a flare-up (a temporary increase in symptoms) and return to the business of living your life. The overarching aim is just this: attaining a meaningful life that involves all the important people who you wish to include. The programme is designed to embrace the role of partners and carers where possible and when desired–please ask us about carers and partners training days and sessions, as they too can become pain coaches to help you overcome your pain.

Pain Coach ProgrammeCall us now to book your Pain Coach Programme: 07518 445493


03Apr/15
Pain Coach

Change and pain

Change is happening all the time. Every moment is new and unique as we pass along our own timeline, being moulded by each new experience. Where we are right now has been determined by every thought, action and exposure to date. It has taken me 41 years to write this blog!

Change and pain — learn to change and overcome your pain on the Pain Coach Programme

Change is something that we are expert at, and it is something that we cannot prevent. Apart from death, change is the only certainty in life. So if we are always changing, why does pain persist and seem to be the same for the many people suffering chronic symptoms? The answer to this question is that the symptoms are not the same, but we just don’t realise.

Our memories are notoriously unreliable, yet we think that they give us an accurate recall of events. What did you have for lunch three weeks ago last Tuesday? If it was a particularly important lunch date, you may remember. Otherwise, it is a guess or there is no memory at all. And why should you remember anyway? How useful would it be to remember it unless food was hard to come by, in which case you may recall the location so that you can go back there to search again (evolutionary biology at play).

We do not remember events as well as we think we do. The same is for pain. Pain is experiential. We experience pain now. Not in the past or the future because the past and future only exist in our heads whereas pain exists in our body (space) in the now. In fact, this is the same for any experience. It can only really happen now, otherwise it is being created by our mind. This is the case even if we think about something unpleasant or dangerous that triggers a pain response; that pain response is now (some readers will be aware that imaging movement or watching someone else move can evoke pain in someone who is sensitive to that particular movement).

So, although we can recall that last Wednesday we had pain, we cannot recall the pain itself with any accuracy, but we can remember that it was a difficult day. Thinking about the day and things that we did may evoke a pain response, but you are feeling that now, and not then. What you feel now cannot be said to be the same as what you felt then. We also have further history to add to our timeline between the time we are trying to recall and the time that we are doing the recalling. We are thereby not accounting for the changes that have occurred between times.

We are masters of change. How do you want to be? Who do you want to be? What is your vision for you next week, next month, next year? To create that person, you need to take action now. Because now is the only real moment. Sculpting who you will be has to start in the present moment. In terms of overcoming pain, you work at a realistic vision of who you want to be and what you want to be doing, and the begin training and rehabilitation. This always begins with a thought based upon a belief, which drives big action. All of our thinking emerges from our belief system that has been grooved by all our experiences to date. This is why understanding pain is so important for overcoming the problems.

We create many habits around persisting pain, many of which are protective in nature in both thought and action, and are not actually taking us in the direction of changing pain for the better. Rather they are taking us down a path of change towards further protection. This gets us into trouble because it can look like there is no way out. Often this line of thought has been influenced by what you have been told and now believe. In essence though, consider all the change that has brought you to where you are now, and that is you have changed to get there, you can create conditions for change to go in another direction. Pain has come (a change in state), so why can pain not go (a change in state)?

Change in the direction that you want takes time. Change in the direction that you want takes hard work and dedication. But there’s nothing wrong with hard work and dedication to a better life full of meaning and a sense of wellbeing.

Pain Coach

Call us now to book your first step to overcoming pain with the Pain Coach programme: 07518 445493

Clinics in Harley Street, Chelsea and New Malden.

03Mar/15
Treatment of pain and injury

Joe’s pain story

Up LogoJoe’s pain story told by his mum Jenny as part of the UP | Understanding Pain Campaign that launches this Saturday with 700+ singers performing at Heathrow – follow us on Twitter @upandsing to show your support

It was the morning of Tuesday 27th November 2012 and the usual school morning rush was well underway when my son, aged 11, lent forward and picked up his school bag. Straight away he complained of back pain, he was unable to fully stand up straight but by no means was in agony. I explained to my son that I felt his muscles were in spasm and the best thing for him to do was to keep moving. I work in a sports injuries clinic and said that I would book him in after school for a massage. I’d only been in work 10 minutes when the school called to say that Joe had ‘got stuck’ bending down at this locker and could I come and collect him. Joe shuffled out to the car in a manner that I had seen many patients at work walk and knew he must be in a fair amount of pain. On the subject of pain I would like to point out that Joe was no stranger to pain, he’s broken bones in his foot and not even muttered anything about it until I noticed the lovely purple bruise. He’s been a keen cyclist since the age of 5 and has had crashes resulting in loss of skin and friction burns; crashing at around 30 mph dressed in lycra is always going to hurt! Thinking back over Joe’s life he had never complained of pain and he was always one of those people who would rather get on with it.

Joe’s muscles where indeed in spasm and the physio treated Joe as much as he could but he recommended further investigations at our local hospital. The local hospital listened to what had happened and sent us home with paracetamol. That evening Joe’s pain became worse. He was only comfortable lying on his side and struggled to walk, I started rotating paracetamol and ibuprofen every two hours but nothing was touching the pain. We tried every distraction technique we could think of, hoping that once Joe slept he would feel better in the morning. Joe was literally screaming with pain by midnight, we had no way of moving him to the car so we called an ambulance.

To cut a very long story short this first hospital visit was the first of many. Joe would be screaming in pain day in day out. It was the most heartbreaking thing to witness as I had no way of controlling his pain. Our local hospital had no way of controlling Joe’s pain either, they had tried everything they could think of but where unable to pinpoint why Joe was in so much pain. Our experience at the hospital soon became very stressful, we became in a loop of ambulances and ward stays. One day they sent us home and within two hours of being at home Joe started screaming, ‘blacking out’ and screaming again, it was relentless and we had no option but to call for another ambulance. Thankfully by now they were used to seeing Joe so started the morphine and we thought it would just be a matter of time before the pain was under control. Three hours later Joe was still screaming non stop and my husband and myself were at breaking point. Consultant after consultant came in to see Joe, they all did the exactly the same leg lift test and left. No one except the A&E nurses seemed to care that Joe was still screaming and that nothing was helping him. Eventually one of the nurses said she had had enough. He had enough morphine to knock out a rugby player and she was moving Joe round to adult A&E as she said they couldn’t ignore him there. Within five minutes we were surrounded by consultants who decided that Joe needed to be put under so that they could perform a lumbar puncture. The relief when he fell asleep was overwhelming. I cannot begin to describe what it feels like to see your child in so much unbearable pain. Every time Joe ‘blacked out’ for a few seconds it was a relief only for him to wake again and continue screaming.

Joe was awake when we next saw him and surprisingly in no pain. The consultant said that maybe his brain had forgotten to turn his ‘pain switch’ off and going under had ‘reset him’. At the time I didn’t care why the pain had stopped I was just so glad it had! Joe was admitted and over the next day his pain started to return. His results had come back negative so the hospital decided to refer him to Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH). After spending a very surreal New Year’s Eve in hospital we were transferred on New Years Day. GOSH started him on a different mix of medication that started to work within a coupe of days. Their physio’s worked with Joe several times a day with his first goal being able to sit up for 10 seconds. They re-ran loads of tests on Joe but they were also unable to come up with a definite answer. They explained that unfortunately as it was 5 weeks since the Joe had injured himself, the injury could have already healed. They felt that the best course of action was to continue with the medication, pain killers and tens machine and to go to our local hospital to continue the physiotherapy.

We returned home after a week in GOSH with Joe’s pain under control with medication and plenty of telephone help from the Pain Team. After our experience with the local hospital I felt that attending physio with them would be a waste of time. I started searching on the internet for private physio’s and Richmond Stace came up again and again. I spoke with the GOSH Pain Team and they were happy for us to attend a private physio. I contacted Richmond and briefly explained our story and asked if he could help, ‘Of course’ was his reply. I remember putting the phone down half smiling and half in shock. Had I just heard right? He knew how he could help Joe. I was so shocked as apart from the staff on Koala ward at GOSH no one, I repeat no one had any idea what was going on with and how to deal with it.

Our first meeting with Richmond was such a positive experience, he listened and understood Joe’s pain. He explained that Joe was not the first person he had seen with that level of pain and it was something he could help us with. Joe started to improve over the weeks that we saw Richmond and we started to lower his medication. He was also managing more school that ever before and I could finally see a glimpse of the future and Joe being well. Richmond has this amazing ability to calm you, take the stress and worry out of the situation and just help you focus on the here and now. We learnt that our surroundings, state of mind, belief in what is wrong etc all have such a major impact on how we perceive pain and how we deal with it. For me, as Joe’s mum, I felt in control for the first time in months and I have no doubt that the feeling of being in control rubbed off on Joe. Listening to Richmond speak to Joe made me realise there was hope. I had truly started to question whether Joe would ever be pain free, how can no one know what caused the pain? How can they not know how to stop it? If we didn’t know what caused the pain could it happen again?

After everything that Joe had been through it had changed him. No longer was Joe my fearless boy, he was now cautious, carried himself differently and seemed different from his peers. In my opinion there is no doubt that pain changes you, makes you aware of your immortality and causes you to protect yourself when, most of the time that protection isn’t actually needed. Maybe our brains are too clever for their own good! Richmond helped Joe realise he was ok. In fact his was better than ok he was Joe again. Not Joe who screams in pain, not Joe who is fragile and unable to do much more than lie in bed but old Joe — Joe who loves school, riding his bike, playing football, going out with friends and playing his guitar. Richmond helped Joe see that and he helped him see that he can control his pain, giving Joe the belief in himself again, proving that he was not at the mercy of a painful back, destined to take painkillers and other medication for the rest of his life. The belief and the tools Richmond gave Joe changed his thought processes, enabling him to progress through his physio, lower and eventually stop his medication.

If anyone reading this is suffering with pain please, please see Richmond. Your life doesn’t have to be ruled by pain. Pain is exhausting and all consuming and it doesn’t have to be that way.

24Nov/14
Sturridge thigh injury

One injury, and then another…and another….

Sturridge thigh injury

Sturridge | more thigh troubles

It is a common scenario sadly, both in professional and amateur sports. One injury, then another and another, each demoralising further. It is noteworthy that the science of pain would say that expectations and other thoughts about the pain and injury will affect the pain itself, potentially increasing the overall threat value — recall from previous writings that pain is a response to threat, and not to just that of the actual injury itself. We must consider any threat to the whole person, and this includes thoughts about oneself and one’s career.

When the body is sensitised by an initial injury, despite healing this sensitivity can persist subtly. In other words, at a certain level of activity there is no problem, no defence. But reaching a new level of training may then reach the current threshold that is not yet back to normal. The threshold is the physiological point where messages are scrutinised by the neuroimmune system that is already vigilant to potential threat. There does not need to be an actual threat, just a perceived one by these vigilant body systems, which then triggers a biological defence: pain, altered planning of movement, altered thinking etc.

The continuous journey back to full fitness requires a complete integration of physical and mental preparedness. As well as tissue strength, endurance and mobility, the controlling mechanisms must switch back to normal settings rather than protect — i.e. the upstream: muscles do what they are told by the motor system that originates in the motor areas of the brain, and the motor system plans and executes movement. The planning of movement not only occurs when the ball is about to be kicked or a run begun, but also when thinking about the acts or watching another. As well as these influencing what is happening, these are also great rehabilitation tools to fully prepare the system for the rigours of the game as well as ensuring completeness of recovery: the player resumes the right thinking, decision-making, motor control as well as fitness.

 

18Nov/14
Caring for our carers

Caring for our carers

help concept, special toned photo f/x, focus point selectiveMy simple message with this blog is that we need to care for the carers. Undoubtedly the individual with pain or ill-health is suffering, but so are the carers who may be partners, family members and friends. They may also be professional carers who are not immune to the stress of looking after someone.

In brief, here are some of the reasons why carers will suffer:

  • Seeing a loved one in pain
  • Feeling helpless
  • Mirroring pain — it is not uncommon for someone to feel pain in their body having observed another person in pain. Biologically this may be quite useful as a learning tool, similar to learning that touching the oven causes a burn injury; ‘I won’t do that again’.
  • Becoming absorbed in negative thought patterns
  • The physical demands, including the number of hours dedicated to caring and what it involves; e.g./ helping to move the patient, household chores — this often in addition to their own needs
  • Disturbed nights
  • A lack of respite
  • Feeling a lack of support
  • Financial worries
  • Own relationship issues

There are many other reasons, however the key point is that the demands upon carers are immense. One of the biological consequences is inflammatory activity in the body due to chronic stress. This inflammation underpins and affects the widespread aches and pains, the compromised health (feeling under the weather), limited resilience and motivation, varied and unpredictable emotional responses and difficulty thinking with clarity — see the interesting study below.

Carers are vital for both the person in pain but also for society at large. There are not enough resources to provide for all those with chronic pain and health issues on a day to day basis and hence we need to care for our carers.

For this reason, I offer treatment, training and mentoring sessions for carers. Ranging from the treatment of aches and pains to creating ways of constructively adding to the therapy for their charge, we also work upon resilience, problem solving and motivational techniques. These strategies are for that person to cultivate their own wellbeing, but also that of the person they are caring for at home. Partners commonly ask how they can be involved in helping the patient move forward, and I gladly reach them about pain, health and what they can do to contribute in a potent way.

If you are a carer, or would like your carer to be more involved, contact me to book the initial session: 07518 445493

****

Greater inflammatory activity and blunted glucocorticoid signaling in monocytes of chronically stressed caregivers. Miller et al (2014).

Abstract
Chronic stress is associated with morbidity and mortality from numerous conditions, many of whose pathogenesis involves persistent inflammation. Here, we examine how chronic stress influences signaling pathways that regulate inflammation in monocytes. The sample consisted of 33 adults caring for a family member with glioblastoma and 47 controls whose lives were free of major stressors. The subjects were assessed four times over eight months. Relative to controls, caregivers’ monocytes showed increased expression of genes bearing response elements for nuclear-factor kappa B, a key pro-inflammatory transcription factor. Simultaneously, caregivers showed reduced expression of genes with response elements for the glucocorticoid receptor, a transcription factor that conveys cortisol’s anti-inflammatory signals to monocytes. Transcript origin analyses revealed that CD14+/CD16- cells, a population of immature monocytes, were the predominate source of inflammatory gene expression among caregivers. We considered hormonal, molecular, and functional explanations for caregivers’ decreased glucocorticoid-mediated transcription. Across twelve days, the groups displayed similar diurnal cortisol profiles, suggesting that differential adrenocortical activity was not involved. Moreover, the groups’ monocytes expressed similar amounts of glucocorticoid receptor protein, suggesting that differential receptor availability was not involved. In ex vivo studies, subjects’ monocytes were stimulated with lipopolysaccharide, and caregivers showed greater production of the inflammatory cytokine interleukin-6 relative to controls. However, no group differences in functional glucocorticoid sensitivity were apparent; hydrocortisone was equally effective at inhibiting cytokine production in caregivers and controls. These findings may help shed light on the mechanisms through which caregiving increases vulnerability to inflammation-related diseases

15Nov/14
RSI specialist treatment

5 facts about repetitive strain injury | RSI

IMG_0149.JPG

Repetitive strain injury (RSI) usually refers to pain and other symptoms felt in the hands, wrists and arms, often gradually becoming more noticeable. Unfortunately, many people continue in the same vain at work without seeking advice or changing their habits, resulting in a persisting sensitivity that can become very limiting — often in relation to typing and writing, but this can extend to any activity involving the arms and hands. RSI is also called a work related upper limb disorder (WRULD).

1. Despite the pain and other symptoms (e.g./ pins and needles, numbness), there can often be no significant tissue damage or injury. Hence, debatably it is not actually an injury or even a ‘strain’.

2. It is common for the pain and symptoms to be noted on both sides. Despite the problem beginning on one side, communication within the neuroimmune system gran underpin ‘mirroring’.

3. There can be an altered sense of the hands — feel cooler (the brain perhaps not recognising the hands as self and changing blood flow), bigger, detached. You should report any experience to your healthcare professional because these are important features that guide the type of treatment and training you need.

4. Hypermobile joints are common within the overall picture — BUT, hypermobility is not a problem per se. Just look at all the top athletes. They are hypermobile! You may be a bit clumsy and walk into furniture. Body sense should be re-trained or developed if so.

5. RSI or the like can be embedded within other painful problems such as IBS, migraine, widespread joint and muscle pain. It is not just office workers, text-maniacs and computer users that suffer, new mums are commonly affected with the host of repetitive (new) chores.,

If you think you are suffering with RSI or a similar persisting pains, come and see me to find out how to overcome the problem — RSI clinic in London, call 07518 445493.

If you are a business that is keen to prevent RSI and other persisting pains (e.g./ neck pain, back pain), come and talk to learn about strategies that you an put into place to save money and increase productivity: 07518 445493

09Nov/14
Pain specialist clinic in London

My top 5 pain myths

In my view, it is the lack of understanding that causes so many problems with pain in terms of how pain is viewed, treated and conceived as being changeable. Pain can and does change when you understand it and think about it in accordance with the modern (neuroscience-based) viePain specialist clinic in Londonw and have a definite plan that is followed with big action towards a vision of where the you want to be. Having seen many individuals put this into practice, I am confident that the start point is always how we think because this is from where the action emerges. The right thinking begins with understanding your pain.

In the light of this, here are my top 5 pain myths:

1. Pain comes from a ‘structure’ in the body — e.g./ a disc, a joint, a muscle.

2. The amount of pain suffered is related to the amount of damage or the extent of the injury.

3. Pain is in your mind if there is no obvious cause in the body — i.e./ via scans, xrays etc.

4. There are pain signals from the body to the brain.

5. Pain is separate from how you feel or think.

There are many others.

Now, this all sounds rather negative and I like to turn this on its head and look at how we can positively influence health in order to change pain. The programmes that I create with individuals for them to follow are all about creating the right conditions in the body systems, all beginning with the right thinking that often challenges existing ideas and notions about pain.

Struggling with pain? Persisting pain? Call me 07518 445493 | Specialist clinics for pain and persisting pain in London