CRPS Is a Bad Name for a Painful Disease

By Dr. Forest Tennant, PNN Columnist

A few years ago, the “pain powers” of the day decided to change the name of a mysterious painful disease called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). 

Not long after the name change, I received a telephone call from a reporter who mistakenly believed that “CRPS” meant that chronic pain statistics were now going to be kept by geographical regions.  He wanted to know which regions had the least and worst pain problems.  He sounded rather despondent when I informed him the regions weren’t geographic areas, but referred to parts of the body. 

After a sigh and pause, he asked how many regions there were and where they were located on the body.  I finally had to admit that although I was familiar with legs, arms, buttocks and ears, I hadn’t been able to come to grips with exactly what the body’s regions were or where they were located, as they weren’t mentioned in Gray’s Anatomy.  The reporter apologized for bothering me and said he thought he would focus on prostate issues instead.

Not long after I disappointed the reporter, I attempted to obtain a prior authorization to pay for CRPS medications from a patient’s insurance company.  I had mistakenly assumed that the label CRPS had reached the bowels of the insurance industry, but a grouchy lady on the phone informed me that her insurance company didn’t recognize regional pain and only paid for legitimate painful diseases.  Furthermore, she questioned my ability and sanity, accusing me of creating a fraudulent diagnosis.  At this point, I rightfully decided the CRPS label may have problems!

These episodes underline the point that lots of people with CRPS are being poorly treated due to a name that doesn’t even sound like a legitimate disease or disorder. Their very real illness goes unrecognized and payment for treatment is often denied by their insurance.  At best, the CRPS label trivializes a condition that can be so severe as to force a person into bed, endure great suffering, and die before their time. 

The history of the name CRPS is most telling.  A British surgeon named Alexander Denmark wrote the first known description of a disease like CRPS in about 1812.  He described a soldier injured by a bullet this way:

“I always found him with the forearm bent and in supine position and supported by the firm grasp of the other hand. The pain was of a burning nature, and so violent as to cause a continual perspiration from his face.” 

Another physician who was working with wounded Civil War soldiers, Dr. Silas Weir Mitchell, published his findings in a 1864 monograph entitled “Gunshot Wounds and Other Injuries.” Mitchell described the basic injury as burning pain located in close proximity to the battle wound.  He also described the well-known characteristics of the disorder, including glossy red or mottled skin without hair, atrophic tissue, and severe pain caused by touch or movement. 

In his 1872 book, “Injuries of Nerves and Their Consequences,” Mitchell coined the term “causalgia” which he derived from the ancient Greek words kauaoc (heat) and oayoc (pain) to emphasize the nature of the disorder.

The term causalgia remained in place until about 1946, when Dr. James Evans, a physician at the Lahey Clinic in Burlington, Massachusetts, described 57 patients with injuries similar to those labeled causalgia by Dr. Mitchell.  Evans described his patients as having intense pain and clinical signs that he explained as being due to “sympathetic stimulation.” The patients experienced rubor (redness), pallor, and a mixture of both sweating and atrophy.

This syndrome would appear after fractures, sprains, vascular complications, amputations, arthritis, lacerations, or even minor injuries.  Evans found that sympathetic nerve blocks usually relieved the pain, so he rejected the term causalgia and gave it the name Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD).

The name RSD pretty well replaced causalgia until 1994, when the International Association for the Study of Pain (IASP) changed it to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS).  This change was led by the renowned pain specialist John Bonica, MD, who wanted to shift the focus away from the terms dystrophy, reflex and sympathetic back to pain. 

This argument for the change had validity, in that the condition doesn’t really have a reflex component and sympathetic blockades do not consistently relieve pain.  Also, dystrophy is medically defined as tissue degeneration, such as that caused by diseases of nutrition or metabolism. The IASP wanted the primary focus to be on pain.

Unintended Consequences

While the name changes from causalgia to RSD to CRPS were intended to bring better pain relief to needy patients, there have been several unintended consequences.  In fact, a reasonable argument can be made that the name change has been counterproductive. 

What should CRPS now be called?  It’s doubtful that a new consensus could be quickly developed, as the syndrome is complex and involves multiple issues. 

Frankly, I personally believe we should junk the term CRPS. It trivializes a most serious disorder, and I have found use of the name CRPS actually deprives some patients of the treatment they need.  I have often simply used the term “vascular neuropathy” to effectively educate pharmacies, families, insurance companies and patients about the condition.  At least this term sounds legitimate and serious!

Fortunately, regardless of its name, the syndrome appears to be diminishing both in incidence and severity.  Workplace injuries and vehicular accidents get immediate attention these days, while early medical and physical interventions usually prevent great severity. 

Also, there is now an understanding of centralized pain and its electrical discharges, which are greatly responsible for the so-called “sympathetic” symptoms of the disorder.  Treatments for centralized pain are clearly benefitting persons with this unfortunate disorder, regardless of whatever name you wish to call it.  I would call for a name change but I don’t know who to call!

Forest Tennant, MD, DrPH, is retired from clinical practice but continues his research on the treatment of intractable pain and arachnoiditis through the Tennant Foundation’s Arachnoiditis Research and Education Project and the Intractable Pain Syndrome Research and Education Project.

The Tennant Foundation gives financial support to Pain News Network and sponsors PNN’s Patient Resources section.   

Breathless: My Anger at a Failing Body

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

Once upon a time, life was easy. Breathing was a breeze, lungs filled with promise and hope.

Then I got sick. Really sick. Of late, when I look back at the last forty years, I’m uncharacteristically angry that my Complex Regional Pain Syndrome stole my life, taking that breath away.

I’m spitting mad that my body keeps failing me. It’s seemingly giving me the finger for having a positive attitude and taking care of myself, as all I get is sicker and sicker. I’m tired of being the good sport, forever the one with “super human strength” who flashes a smile no matter what.

I hate 2022, as it’s trending to be my most miserable year yet. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. To start, I had a monster of a virus all of January, most of March, and my symptoms are here again in mid-April. I can’t shake this ever-revolving bug that perplexes my doctors.

They can’t figure out my debilitating fatigue, laryngitis and diarrhea, all complimented by vertigo and, yes, difficulty breathing. Even my once heavenly swims have turned into an exercise of wheezing and gasping.

I recently got a work-up including labs and chest x-ray, but everything came out normal. A friend mentioned her concern that I might have symptoms of an impending heart attack. Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised.

I’m also mad as hell because COVID never ends. At least not for me. When we were all in this together, the isolation was do-able. In fact, it was comforting because, for once, I wasn’t the only one alone.

But now I’m left behind because being immuno-compromised with an assembly of autoimmune conditions puts me at high risk for long COVID. I feel lonelier than ever watching the world reconnect, while hearing of new variants and upcoming surges.

To top it off, my vaccines and booster shots were hell. With each dose, I’m left reeling with intense fibro flares, hives and many of my previous chemotherapy side-effects. Oh, did I mention I fought Triple Negative Breast Cancer in 2020, the WORST thing I’ve ever been through?

Breathe, Cynthia. Breathe.      

And then there’s this. During the rare times I escape the condo, N95 dutifully strapped on, I resent the never-ending pity looks and pointing because I use a wheelchair. Folks, it’s been FOUR DECADES of this transportation humiliation. I feel like I’m going to lose it the next time someone looks beyond me to ask my partner John what my name is. Or gives me the classic, “It’s so good that people like you get out.”

I find myself staring in awe at people who can walk without a thought. They’re free and don’t even know it. I must admit, these days I resent them for it. When I’m outside, seems it’s always just me and some little old man who are in this wheeled imprisonment. I even resent the old man, cuz he got his turn at life.

This post wouldn’t be complete without exhaling a potentially catastrophic cliff-hanger. Yeah, I’m talking about the aforementioned “Big C.” Since remission, I live in constant fear that it will recur much more aggressively in the first two years, what Triple-Negative is masterful at!

A few days ago, I went in for my periodic breast exam, a ritual that keeps me from hyperventilating during my MRIs. The exams have always been clear, which helps me get through the maelstrom of “scanxiety.”

I felt oddly confident this go-around, even enjoying small talk with my oncologist. After all, this was the lead up to my two-year MRI. I was almost home free when the energy in the room shifted. Completely. My doctor found an enlarged lymph node under my arm that he thinks is a recurrence. Or, better yet, a whole new cancer.

I’m suffocating.   

While I await my imaging results, I’m short-tempered and yell a lot. The cats run under the bed. Fearing the worst, I wonder if my body can fight aggressive cancer again. Let’s face it, I won’t have a good shot the second time around.

Also, in my darkest moments, I’m not certain I have a life worth fighting for. I love myself deeply, but am struggling these days to find gratitude in a world that feels devoid of grace.

I don’t get it. I swear, I’ve been a good person my whole life. I’ve played by the rules, worked hard and always helped the less fortunate.

People tell me to be positive, but I’m just angry. Maybe my rage will turn back to strength and unflagging perseverance. Maybe not. All I know is that I can’t catch my breath. 

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and 19 co-morbidities for four decades, and became a cancer survivor in 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

CDC Opioid Guidelines Are Not Rules or Laws

By Mark Helfand, DDS, Guest Columnist

I am a 62 year old dentist who had to retire 20 years ago due to Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). It started in my right forearm and has spread to all four extremities. Recently it has spread into my shoulders, fingers, knees and thighs.

I have seen numerous pain doctors over the years (that's another story) and have finally found a compassionate, intelligent doctor. He has the knowledge and conviction to be a physician and to treat me properly.

I feel sorry for all the other patients suffering as I do, who are being treated by people with medical degrees that are too stupid or too scared to treat their patients as they swore to do when they graduated from medical school.

Have they forgotten the Hippocratic Oath to do no harm?

The CDC opioid prescribing guidelines are just that -- guidelines -- NOT rules or laws. As a matter of fact, here is a quote directly from the guidelines:

MARK HELFAND

“The recommendations in the guideline are voluntary, rather than prescriptive standards. They are based on emerging evidence, including observational studies or randomized clinical trials with notable limitations. Clinicians should consider the circumstances and unique needs of each patient when providing care."

The so-called "doctors" (and I use the term loosely) that say they cannot prescribe narcotics anymore or cannot prescribe the same dosage, either cannot read, don't care or aren't knowledgeable enough to know what they are doing.

I have had all the past and current mainstream treatments, except hyperbaric oxygen therapy and intravenous ketamine. I have tried and been prescribed most NSAIDs and narcotics.

I am currently taking fentanyl lozenges every three hours as needed and an experimental cream with ketamine that my pharmacist read about in one of his journals.

He sent the paper to me, I brought it to my doctor, we discussed the pros and cons, and my doctor prescribed it for me.

It is helping, but I am not even close to being pain free. However, I am not "stoned" on drugs. If I was, I couldn't write this letter.

I have some semblance of a life and when the pain gets unbearable, I have the ketamine cream and can take the medication I need without having to beg some non-caring doctor in an emergency room. I have been through that and refuse to go through it again.

I genuinely feel sorry for all the chronic pain patients that haven't been as "lucky" as I am. I am cursed with this horrible, excruciatingly painful condition 24/7, but am blessed by a few angels (my pharmacist, my doctor, my niece, and 3 or 4 lay people) that help me live whatever life I have.

I hope this inspires others in my condition to search for their angels.

Dr. Mark Helfand lives in New York.

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

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

Waiting for My Pain Medication to Be Stripped Away

By Sheryl Donnell, Guest Columnist

Up until recently, I thought I was coming through this opioid crisis unscathed. My pain management doctor has been with a top clinic for many years and is highly respected and generally above reproach.

We did not have that dreaded conversation virtually everyone else with chronic pain I know has had -- until September 13th, 2016.

That night, I fell and broke 5 bones in my foot, which was already affected with Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). The pain was so incredibly severe.

I laid on the floor from 2 am to 10 am before I could stay alert enough, and not pass out from shock and pain, to get to a phone to call my husband upstairs for help (he is deaf in one ear). It took 4 paramedics to get me off the floor and into an ambulance.

Once at the hospital, even though I was writhing in agony and still passing out literally from pain, the doctor never examined me or my foot. She didn't care I had been on an ice cold floor for 6 hours. All she heard was "chronic pain patient" and she was done with me.

SHERYL DONNELL

I begged her to call the pain experts my doctor worked with so she could get some guidelines for treating me, but she didn't see a reason. I asked if she was familiar with CRPS, and she proudly said no and it didn't matter. She sent me for x-rays. No sooner did I get back in my room from another horrifyingly painful experience did she announce nothing was broken and to go home.

I sat there stunned. I had heard the bones break. I knew there were fractures. I begged the nurses to do something. I had not even been given a single Tylenol. This doctor firmly believed I was a drug seeker and wanted to bounce me.

The nurse started reading my discharge papers, which said, "Come back if you have any of these symptoms." I started crying harder. I said I have every one of those right now! She was practically in tears herself.

Then my husband asked, “What will he do when we get home? We can't even get her into the house!” The nurse told him to call the paramedics again to help get me back inside my home, which we did.

My husband called in 24-hour care workers to help me so I could manage a bit. It was agony going to the bathroom, even with a bedside commode my mother brought.

The following morning, the paramedics came back and helped me into the car. We went downtown for a pain injection to try to stop a progression of my CRPS. While there I insisted on new x-rays, which my pain doctor of 9 years grudgingly agreed to -- mostly to shut me up. He said come back in a week for another shot.

I asked for an increase in my pain medication. My biggest shock that day was his response. He said there was no reason for an increase! What? We went home to 24-hour care and instructions to start weight bearing exercises asap!

A full week later with not a single call, we returned to my pain management doctor for my second injection. He casually mentioned the results of my x-rays, which showed that I had 5 broken bones in my foot. No call for an entire week. I was left to think I was nuts and was trying to bear weight on a severely fractured foot!

I was not offered, nor were my requests for additional pain medication granted. I was told to come in every week for four more weeks (in great agony and great difficulty) for pain injections which did very little. However, I did not have a spread of my CRPS.

I did lose about 8 weeks of my life again. My pain levels were so extreme I did nothing but sit in my recliner and do a lot of crying. And realize how lucky I was to have family support, the ability to pay for 24-hour caregivers, and to be believed I was in the kind of pain I said I was in. My adult daughter moved home for a month to help me and my husband with caregiving duties.

What do other people do?

Even after my 6 weeks of pain injections, when I requested a short term increase in pain medication to help me rehab my still very painful foot once I was cleared by my orthopedist, I was again turned down by my pain management doctor.

It is now 5 months after I broke my foot and I cannot complete my rehabilitation because my pain is still so intense. I know if this had happened 5 years ago, I would not be suffering like this.

Even though my pain has worsened and I need to rehabilitate my injury, the CDC has arbitrarily changed the rules and I must suffer. My doctor's hands are tied.

I lose more and more days spent doing things I enjoy or need to do because the CDC’s “experts” sat in a room and made decisions based on flawed data and street drugs; not real patients who follow the rules of their pain contracts and don't seek out multiple doctors or illegal methods to get medication. I follow all the rules, just like 99.5% of my peers.

We are suffering and living in fear that we will be next to have our medication stripped away from us, through no fault of our own. And then the real terror begins.

Sheryl Donnell lives in Illinois. She suffers from CRPS and fibromyalgia.

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

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