Be Careful What You Wish For: Cancer Is Not a Way Out From Pain

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

When my oncologist recently spewed the worst word I’ve ever heard -- “recurrence” -- everything in my mind sped up and stopped at the same time. I made a brutal fight for my life in 2020 against Triple Negative Breast Cancer, but came up short.   

Now launching my second battle, a misguided myth disheartens me. Many of us with pain say things like, “I wish I’d been lucky and gotten cancer instead, because with cancer you either die or get better.”

WRONG! I now see this thinking as a cop out, a “poor me” pity party and gross disrespect for those who fight for their lives.

Let me break the suspense. If you ever get the Big C, it will not deliver you from your suffering. You won’t be jumping up and down with glee because your pain problems are over. Like the rest of us, you’ll take on the fight of your life and your pain will quickly take a back seat.  

Here’s more upending news about the “deliverance” mythology: With all of cancer’s apparent “perks” (abundant research, unending sympathy, bountiful support, etc.), it’s anything but the ticker-tape parade of arm-locked togetherness. In reality, an aggressive cancer diagnosis is a new brand of isolating, hellish suffering with death as a probable outcome.

Then there’s this: Cancer fetches a morbid world of trespasses. Many project their fears by pummeling us with religious fervor. It’s unsettling to receive pious magazines and missives about the new body I’ll soon have, the one without pain. Friends and people I don’t know remind me of how lucky I am to be nearing death’s door, because the other side will be paradise.

A head’s up! With cancer, even more than being in a wheelchair, one becomes public domain, open to an onslaught of good intentions delivered with a heaping side of judgement.

And there are the bizarre jealousies. I can’t believe I’m writing this. Have you ever noticed that many in the pain world compete? It’s all too often about who’s the sickest, who’s agonizing most. When you go to the front of the line with cancer, people can get cruel because you’re hailed as the winner of the “Can’t Get Worse Than This” award. Well, three cheers for me!

Soul-Sapping Support

Most heartbreaking, just when I thought my support system couldn’t atrophy further, people have scurried. A number of my close friends who stayed through my decades of pain have stunningly distanced themselves or pulled away altogether. Friends that I believed were strong enough to withstand anything, my rocks, crumbled.

And, ah yes, the platitudes. If I hear “You got this” one more time, I may lose whatever I still got. “Good luck” while walking away has become code for “I’m not strong enough for this scene, but I hope you can keep yourself above ground.”

Then there’s the classic, “If you just think positively, everything will be fine.” Far from it. Faking positivity is the most energy-draining, soul-sapping activity known to humankind.   

Have you ever heard the term, “scanxiety”? If not, that’s because you haven’t had cancer with its phobic-driving medical scans that endlessly loom. It may surprise you (it did me!) to learn that cancer falls into the chronic illness category, a potentially terminal co-morbidity. Even if you hit the jackpot of remission, you’re doomed to a life of fearful obsession over the possibility of recurrence. With cancer, I guarantee you’ll never, ever again be gifted a moment of real peace.        

For these reasons, and the many I don’t have room to share, I implore you to stop thinking that cancer is the way out of pain. To the contrary, if you’re ever diagnosed with a life-threatening malignancy, you’ll be praying for the good ol’ days. Just as I do.

Also, it’s an insult. There are many of us, fighting for our lives and weathering horrendous therapies just to have one more shot -- therapies that often leave us with increased life-long pain. So, please check yourself the next time you have the impulse to blithely state how people with cancer are the lucky ones.

I’m ashamed of the things I used to think and say. I was wrong and out of line. I apologize to all, past, present and future, who had, have or will have courage I didn’t honor.

Sorry for the finger-wagging. I know we’re struggling to cope with the day-to-day torture of our pain, along with the dread that our suffering will likely go on till we’re no longer. But desiring worse isn’t the answer. I guess I’ve seen too much now to put up with ignorance and lack of self-worth. Cancer does that to you, especially the second time around.

This boils down to the power of thoughts and words. I believe they have the sway to make us sick or well. Choose them wisely, and be careful what you wish for.

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 has been battling cancer since 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.”

Medical Cannabis Improves Symptoms in Cancer Patients

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Medical cannabis improved pain and other symptoms in patients undergoing cancer treatment, while significantly reducing their use of opioids and other analgesics, according to a new study by Israeli researchers.

Over 300 cancer patients participated in the 6-month study, including many who were seriously ill. Breast, colon, lung and ovarian cancers were the most common diagnoses, with about half the patients receiving chemotherapy (55%) or diagnosed with advanced stage IV cancer (48%).

“Traditionally, cancer-related pain is mainly treated by opioid analgesics, but most oncologists perceive opioid treatment as hazardous, so alternative therapies are required,” said lead author David Meiri, PhD, an assistant professor at the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology in Haifa.

“Our study is the first to assess the possible benefits of medical cannabis for cancer-related pain in oncology patients; gathering information from the start of treatment, and with repeated follow-ups for an extended period of time, to get a thorough analysis of its effectiveness.”

Patients ingested cannabis that was rich in tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) through oil extracts, smoking or a combination of the two. For many, it was their first time using cannabis.

Most patients (60%) reported a positive effect from cannabis treatment, with significant improvement in their anxiety, depression, sleep, quality of life and pain catastrophizing. Most reported a small improvement in pain intensity and 20% said there was no improvement in their pain levels.

There was, however, a significant change in the use of analgesics. About 40 percent of patients who were taking pain medication of some kind (opioids, NSAIDs, anticonvulsants or antidepressants) stopped taking the drugs while using cannabis.

“We encountered numerous cancer patients who asked us whether medical cannabis treatment can benefit their health,” said co-author Gil Bar-Sela, MD, an associate professor at the Ha'Emek Medical Center Afula. “Our initial review of existing research revealed that actually not much was known regarding its effectiveness, particularly for the treatment of cancer-related pain, and of what was known, most findings were inconclusive.”

Notably, about one in every five participants died during the course of the study, which researchers attributed to their poor health and advanced cancer. Many of the patients also lost weight.

“Medical cannabis has been suggested as a possible remedy for appetite loss, however, most patients in this study still lost weight. As a substantial portion were diagnosed with progressive cancer, a weight decline is expected with disease progression,” said Meiri. “Interestingly, we found that sexual function improved for most men but worsened for most women.”

Overall, researchers say cannabis treatment provided “mild to modest” improvement in cancer patients, with only minor side effects. Their findings were published in the journal Frontiers in Pain Research.

U.S. Falls to 8th Globally in Per Capita Opioid Sales

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Concerns about opioid addiction and overdoses have caused opioid sales to plummet in the United States in recent years. Opioid consumption has fallen so sharply that Canada, Australia and several European countries have overtaken the U.S. and become the highest consumers of opioid analgesics, according to a new study.

But in many poor and middle-income countries, access to opioids remains very limited, causing unnecessary pain and suffering for millions of sick and dying people.

“There are still concerningly low rates of opioid use in large parts of the world, even in numerous middle-income countries,” said lead author Wallis Lau, PhD, a Lecturer at the School of Pharmacy, University College London.

“Opioids have been listed by the World Health Organization as an essential class of medicine for acute pain, cancer-related pain, and palliative care since 1977, so it is troubling that in many parts of the world, people are unable to access this medicine. There is an urgent need to tackle the global gap in opioid access.”

Lau and her colleagues analyzed global pharmaceutical sales in 66 countries from 2015 to 2019. They found that opioid use in some African and South American countries was less than one tenth of 1% of the rates in wealthier countries in North America, Europe and Australia, according to findings published in The Lancet Public Health.

The highest opioid rate was found in Canada, estimated at 988 milligram morphine equivalents (MME) per day for every 1,000 people. That was down from an average of 1,581 MME per day in Canada in 2015.

By comparison, the U.S. rate was 738 MME per 1,000/day, a 45% decline since 2015. Long touted as having the highest per capita opioid consumption in the world, the U.S. now ranks 8th globally in opioid sales.

At the other end of the scale, a group of 12 West African countries reported only 0.01 MME per 1,000/day. A few other countries, including three in South America, reported rates below 1 MME per 1,000/day.

Opioid Sales Per Capita (2019)

SOURCE: THE LANCET

Researchers say the disparities in opioid consumption go beyond factors such as a nation’s wealth, healthcare quality and disease prevalence. For example, wealthy countries such as the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia reported very low rates of opioid use. Kazakhstan also reported low rates of opioid consumption, despite having high cancer prevalence and high cancer death rates.

“Some countries have low opioid analgesic consumption despite a high cancer prevalence, which could suggest inadequate access to opioid analgesics as much-needed pain control,” said Lau.

Overall, global opioid sales increased by 4% annually from 2015 to 2019. Opioid consumption rates increased in most areas that reported low use, including Eastern Europe, Asia, and South America, but not in Africa.

“These findings reinforce the need to recognise palliative care and pain relief as a global public health priority. In countries that already have good access to opioid analgesics, it is important to avoid opioid misuse and overprescribing, without leaving patients undertreated.” said co-senior author Professor Ian Wong of UCL School of Pharmacy and University of Hong Kong.

According to a 2017 international study commissioned by The Lancet, over 25 million people die annually in severe pain because they have little or no access to morphine and other painkillers. Another 35 million people live with chronic pain that is untreated. The Lancet commission said there were several barriers that stood in the way of effectively treating pain, including “opiophobia” – prejudice and misinformation about the medical value of opioids.

“Unbalanced laws and excessive regulation perpetuate a negative feedback loop of poor access that mainly affects poor people,” the commission said.

Steep Cuts in Opioid Prescribing ‘Raises More Questions’

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Several studies in recent years have documented how opioid prescribing has declined significantly in the United States, with per capita consumption of opioid medication recently falling to its lowest level in two decades.

For the first time, a new study by the RAND Corporation breaks the decline down by medical specialty, showing that some doctors may have gone too far in their effort to reduce opioid prescribing and lower the risk of abuse and addiction.

“Oftentimes when I do studies, I think we have a clear answer. This one in my mind raises more questions,” says Bradley Stein, MD, a senior physician researcher at RAND and lead author of the study published in the Annals of Internal Medicine.

Stein and his colleagues looked at opioid prescriptions filled at U.S. pharmacies in 2008-2009 and compared it to prescriptions filled in 2017-2018. Over that period, per capita morphine milligram equivalent (MME) doses for opioids fell by over 21% nationwide.

What surprised researchers is that many doctors treating patients with cancer pain, acute trauma pain or surgery pain significantly reduced their opioid prescribing even though most federal and state guidelines didn’t call for it.

The influential and much criticized 2016 CDC opioid guideline, for example, only applies to primary care physicians who treat chronic non-cancer pain. Yet emergency physicians, psychiatrists and oncologists cut their opioid prescribing significantly more than primary care providers and pain specialists.

MME Decline By Medical Specialty (2008 to 2018)

• -70% Emergency Physicians

• -67% Psychiatrists   

• -60% Oncologists  

• -49% Surgeons 

• -41% Dentists    

• -40% Primary Care Providers

• -15% Pain Specialists     

Stein attributes the steep decline in opioid prescribing not just to the CDC guideline, but to state regulations and insurance company policies. While some of the decline was appropriate, he thinks it may have gone too far.   

“There are probably populations where a decade ago, someone may have given 30 days of opioids, where maybe 3 days or 7 days would be fine. Or maybe they didn’t need to prescribe it at all,” Stein told PNN. “But there are other populations for whom several days of opioids may very well be appropriate. And those are individuals that probably we should not be seeing substantial decreases in. An example is individuals with late-stage cancer.”

The CDC guideline specifically says it is “not intended for patients undergoing active cancer treatment, palliative care, or end-of-life care.” But in practice, many of those patients are being forced to follow the CDC’s recommended dose limits. Some get no opioids for pain relief. A recent study in Oregon found a significant decline in opioids being prescribed to terminally ill patients being admitted to hospice care.

“The blunt policy approach that called for reduced opioid prescribing across-the-board clearly affected some medical specialties more than others. But even patients receiving palliative care have felt the negative impact of opioid policies that have lacked nuance and depth,” says Dr. Chad Kollas, a palliative care specialist in Florida who has called federal opioid policy an “abject failure” because it has not reduced overdose deaths. 

“Patients with cancer and sickle cell disease who are fortunate enough to have a palliative care physician still face challenges filling prescriptions for controlled pain medications at many pharmacies.” 

PNN readers may be familiar with the story of April Doyle, a terminal breast cancer patient who posted a tearful video online after she was denied opioids at a Rite Aid pharmacy in 2019. Doyle went to another pharmacy and her prescription was filled, but only after a lot of unnecessary physical and emotional pain. She died the following year. 

Geographic Variability

Another surprise uncovered by RAND, a nonprofit research organization, is the extreme variability of opioid prescribing from state to state and county to county.

The map below shows a checkerboard pattern across the United States, with counties in blue showing a 50% or more decline in opioid prescribing, and counties in red showing a 50% or more increase from 2008 to 2018.

Change in County Per Capita MME (2008-2018)

RAND CORPORATION

Per capita opioid prescriptions declined the most in large metropolitan counties (-22.6%) and in counties with higher rates of fatal opioid overdoses (-34.6%).

But even in states that were hit hard by the opioid crisis, such as West Virginia, Ohio and Kentucky, there are blue counties where prescribing fell significantly right next to red counties where opioid prescriptions spiked. Kansas and Missouri have more red counties than blue.  

“It was eye-opening to see the variation across states and counties,” said Stein. “We’re seeing variation by payer. We’re seeing variation by community. We’re seeing variation by type of prescriber. And I think this is a reminder to us all that this is probably an issue where one-size-does-not-fit all.  

“And I think coming to a better understanding of that will help us make sure that while we’re appropriately decreasing the amount of opiates being prescribed for people whose pain we can manage effectively in different ways, the decrease has been greater than it needs to be for some populations. We need to make sure that people who need adequate pain management get it.”

The RAND study was funded by grants from the National Institutes of Health.

The High Price of Being Your Own Advocate

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

I’ve always encouraged women in pain to be strong advocates for their care. But after decades of pushbacks and harassment from the medical community for doing just that, I’m starting to question whether self-advocating does more harm than good.

The U.S. healthcare system is flat-out busted because it revolves around making money rather than making people well. The “standard of care” model of medicine is tried and true as profit generating, while it cloaks itself in the deceit of what’s in the patient’s best interest.

While individualized “patient-centered care” is often touted, and makes great buzzwords for marketing material, whenever I elect something out of the norm, my healthcare providers harass and bully me to return to their cookie-cutter model. When I don’t comply, my “care” gets ugly, causing me physical and emotional harm.  

I’ve bucked up against this thuggery for 39 years, the first 20 fighting an HMO. That was the trust breaker for me. After escaping that illness-provoking gulag, I felt certain that at last my care choices would be respected. I was wrong.

While a fresh pain management doctor initially helped, he soon pushed hard for interventions that I instinctively knew weren’t right for me. When I repeatedly said no to prescription fentanyl, ketamine infusions, two spinal cord stimulators and an intrathecal pump, this MD often called to bawl me out before slamming down the phone. For a time I put up with his tantrums because he was the first doctor who validated my Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) diagnosis. But at last, my health couldn’t take his abuse and I cut this jackal loose.   

Cancer Diagnosis    

It gets worse. Twenty-two years ago, when I was first diagnosed with ductal carcinoma in situ (aka, “Stage Zero” breast cancer), my oncologist told me I had three months to live if I didn’t undergo surgery, chemotherapy and radiation.

Because my CRPS was a ginormous complication and to me the treatment didn’t match the diagnosis, I chose to “wait and watch.” That doctor was irate, even calling my home to press me into “life-preserving” treatment. Perhaps worse, he never celebrated the reality that my “cancer” ultimately came to nothing. Over the years, I’ve watched ductal carcinoma become a controversial diagnosis because of the over-treatment associated with it. Wow, I was almost a statistic.

In 2019, when I was diagnosed (in the other breast) with real cancer, stage 2 triple-negative, my first thought was, “God, please no, please, please, don’t make me wrangle with the western healthcare system again!”

In short order, I learned that cancer treatment is the mother of all standard of care, and in this do-or-die arena, you don’t ask questions. You say, “Thank you, sir. May I have another?” Problem is, that memo, now and forever, means nothing to me.

Naturally, I was threatened with impending death during the six months I carefully researched and considered treatment (my tumor actually shrunk during that time.) Then, after being a “super responder” to chemo, I turned down the standard-of-care follow up surgery. My tumor was gone, confirmed by imaging, and all studies showed that I had a better chance of survival without going under the knife.

I guess it won’t come as a surprise that every oncologist who crossed my path at that time said my choice was foolhardy, even madness, then chased that declaration with another death threat.

Boy oh boy, do I pay for sticking up for me. Since then, with every scan, they find a new “concern,” be it a shadow on an image or a thickening lymph node. One imaging doctor told me straight up that my cancer had returned and they expected me to jump back into their treatment assembly line.

I was this close to being spooked into that unnecessary surgery which, due to my CRPS, would likely have destroyed my life. Thank god a colleague questioned why they hadn’t done full scans to see if the cancer had spread first, stopping me in my tracks. Lo and behold, those scans were negative for any and all cancer. No matter. My doctors insisted on the operation, denying me a second opinion, the reason given, “Whether you have a malignancy or not, you have to do surgery.” I arranged for a second opinion at another hospital that confirmed I was cancer-free. Hallelujah!

During this hellish time, I paid the advocacy price in a new, heartbreaking way. I had a 15-year internist who I trusted with my life. In fact, she guided and supported me through all of my cancer treatment decisions. She alone respected the dangers of CRPS and recommended “de-escalation” from unnecessary treatment whenever possible.

The system didn’t like her interference though, and applied pressure. She dropped me as her patient when I needed her most. That was eight months ago, and I’m still working with a therapist, using guided imagery, hypnosis and EMDR therapy (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing), to unravel the trauma of that betrayal.

No Regrets

Despite it all, I move forward.      

Decades into CRPS and a year and a half out of cancer, I’m surprisingly feeling tip-top. That is, until it’s imaging time when the pummeling takes an exhausting toll. My pain and IBS flare, I hyperventilate, stop sleeping, my body gets tight and I have anxiety attacks. I don’t dread the cancer coming back (make no mistake, that fear is REALLY bad) as much as I dread the doctors new “concern” and the ongoing communiques that keep me in a place of anger, resentment and un-wellness.

Reflecting on my chosen role as a self-advocate, I still think the pros outweigh the cons for women in pain. We need to be in control of our treatment choices, whether they’re bucking the trend or going with the flow. And just as important, we need to be ready to walk away from an uncomfortable care situation.

Despite my self-advocacy nightmares, I have no regrets. I continue to make the best choices for me in this dysfunctional, profit-driven healthcare system. Still, I yearn for their support. I wish they’d care about and root for me. I wish they’d celebrate my good health. Mostly, I wish they’d stop harming me.

As I talk with other women angry about past cancer treatment they were coerced into, many who now deal with chronic pain as a result, I’m emboldened to continue speaking out about our fear-based model of over-treatment. My heart aches for them and for those who will come.

Fear and pressure should never drive our care decisions. The way I see it, the biggest mistake we women in pain can make is to sit on the sidelines of care and not do our job as advocates. If we hand our power over to the healthcare professionals and the systems that lord over them, we’re doomed.

The cost of compliance and victimhood is too damn high.                      

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 CRPS and 19 co-morbidities for nearly 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.”

Finding Life in the Midst of ‘The Pain-Cancer Connection’

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

In 2019, when I first heard my worst diagnosis, Triple-Negative Breast Cancer – yes, the rare and aggressive kind – I instinctively knew it was tied to my 37 years of high-impact pain. Indeed, for a couple of decades, I’d commented often to my partner, John, that I didn’t understand how my body could take the toll of never-ending torture without getting terminal cancer.

Like so many of us with pain, my chronic depression kept me wondering if that scenario might be a blessing. In fact, my greatest struggle was endlessly debating whether life with pain was worth living. 

Here’s the stunner! After hearing my grim diagnosis, I ultimately deduced it was. So much so, not only did I choose to fight, I took a deep dive into discovering the best chance at surviving my cancer well with the quality of life I still had intact. In short order, I armored myself with a boatload of education and committed to using integrative care all the way. Making bold, unconventional treatment decisions upped my chances to stay on the planet.

I won’t sugar-coat it; fighting breast cancer while trying to keep 19 overlapping pain and fatigue conditions in check was the hardest thing I ever did, and the jury’s still out as to whether I’ll survive. But I’m damn happy and proud to be here today, and want to share what I’ve learned.

Enter “The Pain-Cancer Connection,” the theme of For Grace’s 2021 Women In Pain Conference on Friday, September 24.

Last year when I sat down via Zoom with my sisters in pain that make up For Grace’s event planning committee, I was in the midst of chemo, bald and very ill. After pitching the theme and telling these badass women about the connection between pain and cancer, I was deeply touched that they wanted to move ahead.

None of these women have had a serious cancer diagnosis, and executing a conference, especially in the midst of COVID, is damn-near impossible work. I love these women! They play a critical part in helping me turn suffering into meaning, my primary life force.

CYNTHIA TOUSSAINT

As some wise woman shared, “All good things come in time.” As such, this virtual conference is a year late due to my rough recovery. That’s another thing about my sisters – they unconditionally supported, even insisted on, my need to take time to ramp up to this frenetic pace.

Well, here we are, and what a first-of-its-kind day we’ve got in store.   

After a warm welcome from our Director, John Garrett, I’ll start by divulging my cautionary tale with cancer treatment. Oh boy, I’ve got a ton to say about western medicine failing miserably at every turn – and how taking control of my cancer care got me this far.

Next up, integrative oncology chaplain Michael Eselun will share a touching, personal story about loss and letting go. Michael is a gem of a storyteller who brings his audience to laughter and tears, whilst stepping into the dark side with ample tenderness.  

Sprinkling in some For Grace vibe, woman in pain and comedian Anna Polack will drop a witty take on the self-help movement. Later, she’ll host interactive “fun breaks” to bring in lightness.

Also, throughout our day, we’ll spotlight woman in pain and artist Radene Marie Cook’s exquisite pieces that depict the pain-cancer experience in endless passion and color.

Then we’ll launch into our four themed sessions: Problem, Solution, Experience and Moving On.

Dr. Wayne Jonas, Executive Director of the Samueli Foundation’s Integrative Health Programs, will present the “Problem” – how the inflammation of pain can lead to cancer and how cancer treatment can spark persistent pain. Dr. Jonas will also delve generously into the benefits of integrative care. His brilliant, positive take on healing is eye-opening, and I’m forever grateful for his steady guidance.

The “Solution” session will kick-off with one of my all-time favorite people, Christin Veasley, co-founder of the Chronic Pain Research Alliance. Simply put, Chris is the best, full of information and care. She’ll explore effective tips about how to become your own best advocate, including how to partner with your practitioner for best outcome.

Next up, one of my heroes, Dr. Keith Block, founder of the Block Center for Integrative Cancer Treatment, will go in-depth about how to keep one’s “terrain” healthy throughout active cancer treatment as well as the all-important post period to avoid a recurrence. Tragically, western medicine doesn’t acknowledge the terrain, but this is the stuff that saved me! In fact, Dr. Block’s book, Life Over Cancer, was my bible during treatment.

Dynamite wellness expert and fellow sister in pain, Dr. Susan Nyanzi, will follow with how common-sense, self-care lifestyle choices can help prevent most cancers. I say, “Amen to that, Dr. Nyanzi!” Just wish I’d heard this talk five years ago.

A dynamic panel of real-life pain and cancer patients will make up our “Experience” session. Moderated by the no-holdin’-back Rhonda Smith, breast cancer survivor and executive director at California Black Health Network, these folks will share, with us and each other, inside advice about getting best care, handling adversity, the importance of self-management, and improbable “gifts” along the way.         

We’ll end with the inspiration to “Move On” despite the challenges of these epic diseases. Yes, it’s all about hope and movement with Dr. Melissa Cady, DO. Also known as “The Challenge Doctor,” this force-of-nature will teach us how to reframe illness and use movement to find joy and less suffering.   

To put a bow on the day, cancer survivor and Bump In the Road podcaster, Pat Wetzel, will share how illness and misfortune drove her to transform her life into one of helping others, traveling the world and prompting folks to hit the road to find wellness and meaning. Seriously, there are no brakes on this full-speed-ahead woman, guaranteed to inspire! 

There’s no denying that cancer and pain are upending, life-altering, sometimes terminal diseases. But as this conference will illuminate, we can fight the good fight with dignity and grace.

Last year, during my darkest hours of chemo and COVID, when I actually forgot why I wanted to live, people from my circle of support bolstered me by phone, email, text and good ol’ snail mail, to keep me keepin’ on. Truly, I don’t know if I would have made it without them.

I want this conference to be that kind of support system for those who are wrangling with pain, cancer or both. I want its shared education to make it possible for one disease not to springboard into another. I want the day to remind us that there’s enough love in this world to make life worth fighting for.

Seeing so many beautiful people come together, volunteering their time to help others avoid my fate, humbles me – and makes my heart swell.    

I look forward to connecting with you on Friday, September 24 at 9am PDT (12pm EDT). You can watch the entire conference for free on our YouTube channel.      

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 nearly 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.”

How Opioid Hysteria Affects Cancer Patients

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Over the years, we’ve received many complaints from cancer patients about their pain being poorly treated or even left untreated. Although the CDC’s opioid guideline specifically says it is “not intended for patients undergoing active cancer treatment,” some doctors take the recommendations so seriously they won’t prescribe opioids to cancer patients, fearing it could lead to abuse and addiction.

“Just last week my 90-year-old mother, who is a cancer patient going through chemo, was accused of having opioid use disorder when she went to the emergency room with a painful bacterial infection. She was left with no pain relief, even though she is a compliant patient with no history of abuse,” one reader told PNN.

“I suffer from severe stage 4 cancer pain that has gotten worse and worse and may be terminal. Despite my increasing pain, no one will increase my dosages directly due to the CDC,” another reader told us.

“I have struggled to find a doctor to treat my pain,” a patient with terminal stage 4 lung cancer said. “I am in total shock that cancer patients have to suffer like this. These guidelines have terrified doctors. If they’re too scared to treat cancer pain, what pain will they treat?”

After hearing stories like those, it was startling to read the results of a small study in the journal Cancer that found some cancer patients were so traumatized by opioid hysteria they were reluctant to take opioids because of the stigma associated with their use. Researchers at the Dana-Faber Cancer Institute in Boston interviewed 26 patients with advanced cancer and found that many were fearful of using opioids — even though the risk of opioid addiction and overdose is low for cancer patients.

“Patients consistently described the negative impact of the opioid epidemic on their ability to self-manage pain. Negative media coverage and personal experiences with the epidemic promoted stigma, fear, and guilt surrounding opioid use. As a result, many patients delayed initiating opioids and often viewed their decision to take opioids as a moral failure,” wrote lead author Desiree Azizoddin, PsyD.

“Patients frequently managed this internal conflict through opioid-restricting behaviors (eg, skipping or taking lower doses). Stigma also impeded patient-clinician communication; patients often avoided discussing opioids or purposely conveyed underusing them to avoid being labeled a ‘pill seeker.’”

Adding to the stigma, researchers said several patients ran into “logistical complications” with pharmacies and insurers when they tried to get an opioid prescription filled.

“Patients experienced structural barriers to obtaining opioids such as prior authorizations, delays in refills, or being questioned by pharmacists about their opioid use. Barriers were stressful, amplified stigma, interfered with pain control, and reinforced ambivalence about opioids,” they said.

Reports of opioid hysteria affecting cancer care are not new. In 2019, the Cancer Action Network said there was “a significant increase in cancer patients and survivors being unable to access their opioid prescriptions.”

That same year, the CDC issued a long-awaited acknowledgement that the “misapplication” of the 2016 guideline had been harmful to pain patients, including those being treated for cancer. The agency said it would evaluate the impact of the guideline and make changes “when new evidence is available.”   

Five years after the guideline’s release, cancer patients are still waiting for those changes to be made.

“I had breast cancer twice and suffer severe chest wall and referred pain from surgery and radiation treatments, plus severe spine damage, but have been denied pain treatment. This has become a crime against humanity which would never be allowed in any other country,” a cancer survivor told us.

Hospice Patients Getting Fewer Opioids for Pain Relief

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Overzealous enforcement of opioid guidelines has led to a significant decrease in opioid prescribing to terminally ill patients being admitted to hospice care, according to a new study that found some dying patients may have had their pain undertreated.

The study, led by researchers at the Oregon State University College of Pharmacy, looked at prescription records for over 2,600 patients discharged from hospitals to hospice care from 2010 to 2018. Nearly 60% of the patients had a cancer diagnosis.  

In 2010, researchers say about 91% of the patients were receiving opioids for pain at discharge to hospice. But by 2018, only 79% were getting opioid medication.

The goal in hospice care is to minimize the suffering of dying patients and to maximize their comfort and quality of life. Patients in hospice or palliative care are generally exempt from federal and state opioid prescribing guidelines.

"Indiscriminate adoption or misapplication of these initiatives may be having unintended consequences," said lead author Jon Furuno, PhD, an associate professor and interim chair of the Oregon State Department of Pharmacy Practice. "The CDC Prescribing Guideline and the other initiatives weren't meant to negatively affect patients at the end of their lives, but few studies have really looked at whether that's happening. Our results quantify a decrease in opioids among patients who are often in pain and for whom the main goal is comfort and quality of life."

The CDC’s opioid guideline specifically says it is “not intended for patients undergoing active cancer treatment, palliative care, or end-of-life care.” But in practice, many of those patients are being forced to follow the CDC’s recommended daily dose limit of 90 morphine milligram equivalent (MME). Some get even less.  

“I'm a cancer patient on palliative care and being forced tapered off to 20 mg when I was on 100 mg for 20 years and working, taking care of my family and myself. Now I'm in bed all day in severe pain,” said one patient who responded to PNN’s recent survey on the CDC guideline.

“My daughter is in palliative care and been on 330 MME daily for 8 years. Now her palliative care doctor wants to force taper her to 50 MME a day because he says the state is changing rules,” a mother told us. “She’s terrified of being forced to taper. I’m going to lose my daughter because she can’t be in intractable severe pain. It’s inhumane and cruel to do to a patient who is never going to get better and has a degenerative condition.” 

“I have stage IV metastatic lung cancer, it is terminal.  I have gone months without pain medication after being jerked off medication completely. I have struggled to find a doctor to treat my pain,” another patient told us. “I am in total shock that cancer patients have to suffer like this. These guidelines have terrified doctors. If they’re too scared to treat cancer pain, what pain will they treat?”

According to Furuno, more than 60% of terminally ill cancer patients have "very distressing pain.” He and his colleagues found that while opioid prescribing declined for patients heading into hospice, there was more prescribing of less potent, non-opioid analgesics.

"Sometimes non-opioids alone are the best choice, or non-opioids in combination with opioids," Furuno said. "But it's important to remember that non-opioids alone are also not without risk and that delaying the start of opioid therapy may be delaying relief from pain.”

The study findings were published in the Journal of Pain and Symptom Management.

My Cancer Is Back: Facing Surgery With CRPS

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

After hearing the worst words of my life, “Your cancer has grown back,” I felt hopeless and hated the world. Worse, I had to tell my longtime partner and caregiver, John, the grim news. How could we pull up our frayed boot straps again and survive yet another impossible health crisis?

Since getting Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) four decades ago, people often use words like “fighter,” “pain warrior” and “super human” to describe me. The most recent catch phrase is, “Cynth, you got this!”

I’ve come to detest this perceived awesomeness. I don’t want to be an uber-person. I never did. I’m tired. I’m so, so tired. And I long for a slice of vanilla-flavored normal.

As the owner of CRPS and 19 comorbidities, I could not afford the diagnosis of triple negative breast cancer, the most aggressive form. But that’s what was delivered, since luck has never been this lady’s lot.

Without consulting me, the universe long ago decided that I’m supposed to slay every dragon while surviving never ending illness and trauma. This latest hell-news has filled me with anger, rage and major depression.

So much so, that for the first time ever, I’m isolating. This social butterfly has returned to her cocoon, unable to feel joy.

I can’t sleep as I’m plagued by night terrors. Each afternoon, my body trembles uncontrollably. Once heavenly activities, like meditation, exercising and eating, are now chores.

John massages my taut muscle tension through the days and nights – and my IBS has gone haywire. My bubbly spirit is absent and what’s left is demoralized.

And not so long ago, I thought I had this thing licked.

Early last year, after six months of weighing my impossible-with-CRPS treatment options, I started aggressive chemotherapy knowing that this regimen could leave me with a life not worth living. The dream was that my pain would stay in check and I’d achieve a Clinical Complete Response (cancer that cannot be seen with imaging). I’m certain chemotherapy almost ended me, as I was left with virtually no immune system. As a bonus, this was during COVID. 

I was coined a “super responder” when I miraculously accomplished a complete response. At that point, the odds were strongly in my favor that the cancer was gone. But the only way to be sure was to do the follow-up standard of care surgery, which I chose to forego because, with CRPS, surgery is, well, not an option.

The doctors were floored by how well I did, and every indicator leaned toward a clean pathology report. I was ready to move on with my life, one that I felt I’d earned by doing everything right (diet, exercise, stress management, good sleep – the whole kit and caboodle!) One doctor commented, “Don’t even look at the survival numbers. They don’t apply to you anymore.”   

True to form, things went as far south as possible. Because I’m one of the unlucky ones who’s cancer stem cells never went away, my malignancy is growing back. This is not a “recurrence,” but a “persistence” because the chemo didn’t hold.

And now that my complete response is gone, I’ll never have my prior odds. John has lamented for years, “You NEVER get a break!” and I’m finally seeing it his way.

For a chance of survival, I must now have – ta daaa!! – surgery. The doctors tell me my best shot is to do a lumpectomy with follow-up radiation or a stand-alone mastectomy.

Tragically, radiation is off the table as it often causes neuropathic pain. In fact, a radiologist who I respect told me flat out, “I can’t ethically do it to you.” And during a recent visit with my surgeon, she strongly advised that, due to CRPS, I’m not a candidate for a mastectomy, let alone reconstructive surgery. Wow.

Finding a New Care Team

Adding insult to injury, out of nowhere, my lead oncologist dropped me! She did so due to questionable guidance (something I can’t detail here) and is fearful of litigation, which doesn’t make it hurt less. This woman had become my hero and I trusted her with my heart and life. Her betrayal has been soul-crushing and created a crisis of faith. I don’t know who or what to believe in anymore.

But through the shadows, I’m quietly planning my next move – and will take on Round Two one slow... step… at… a... time. I’m assembling a new-and-improved care team to up my odds, including an oncologist, acupuncturist, physical therapist, pain specialist and psychologist. I’ve sweetened the pot with an EMDR (an effective technique for trauma release) practitioner who specializes in people with CRPS. Heck, I’ve even lined up the use of a heated pool in these COVID shutdown days.    

I’m going to have a lumpectomy, a word I can still barely say, let alone write. The scariest part is that my surgeon will also remove a possibly involved lymph node in a nerve rich area, ripe for ample, new pain. My new oncologist is concerned that due to a surgery-induced CRPS flare, my arm may freeze up and become a non-functional torture machine.

Even if the surgery mercifully works without condemning me back to bed, this wouldn’t flip me a “get-out-of-jail-free” card. Because I can only do the “minor” surgery without radiation, my odds of a quick recurrence remain high. This means I’ll be on the prowl for some off-the-grid insurance, perhaps low-dose chemo or an immunotherapy clinical trial. But neither can measure up to the standard of care radiation.

God, to be well enough to be sick!         

So, here I am again, looking down the barrel of a gun, knowing it likely has a bullet with my name on it. Like I said, I’m tired and angry. I’m up to my ass with picking the lesser of two evils, and having to crack the code of the near impossible.

Give me a break, already! And I don’t mean this in a small way. I’m shouting out to the big, bad, ice cold universe that I hope, somewhere, somehow, has a heart.

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 nearly 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.” 

If I Have MS or an Autoimmune Condition, Should I Get the Covid Vaccine?

By Judith Graham, Kaiser Health News

As public demand grows for limited supplies of covid-19 vaccines, questions remain about the vaccines’ appropriateness for older adults with various illnesses, including those with cancer, multiple sclerosis or autoimmune conditions.

Recently, a number of readers have asked me whether older relatives with these conditions should be immunized. This is a matter for medical experts, and I solicited advice from several. All strongly suggested that people with questions contact their doctors and discuss their individual medical circumstances.

Experts’ advice may be helpful since states are beginning to offer vaccines to adults over age 65, 70 or 75, including those with serious underlying medical conditions. Twenty-eight states are doing so, according to the latest survey by The New York Times.

Q: My 80-year-old mother has chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Should she get vaccinated?

First, some basics. Older adults, in general, have responded extremely well to the two covid-19 vaccines that have received special authorization from the Food and Drug Administration. In large clinical trials sponsored by drug makers Pfizer and Moderna, the vaccines achieved substantial protection against significant illness, with efficacy for older adults ranging from 87% to 94%.

But people 65 and older undergoing cancer treatment were not included in these studies. As a result, it’s not known what degree of protection they might derive.

Dr. Tobias Hohl, chief of the infectious diseases service at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York City, suggested that three factors should influence patients’ decisions: Are vaccines safe, will they be effective, and what is my risk of becoming severely ill from covid-19?

Regarding risk, he noted that older adults are the people most likely to become severely ill and perish from covid, accounting for about 80% of deaths to date — a compelling argument for vaccination.

Regarding safety, there is no evidence at this time that cancer patients are more likely to experience side effects from the Pfizer-BioNTech and Moderna vaccines than other people. “We are confident that these vaccines are safe for [cancer] patients,” including older patients, said Dr. Armin Shahrokni, a Memorial Sloan Kettering geriatrician and oncologist.

The exception, which applies to everyone, not just cancer patients: people who are allergic to covid-19 vaccine components or who experience severe allergic responses after getting a first shot shouldn’t get covid-19 vaccines.

In new guidelines published late last week, the National Comprehensive Cancer Network, an alliance of cancer centers, urged that patients undergoing active treatment be prioritized for vaccines as soon as possible. A notable exception:  Patients who’ve received stem cell transplants or bone marrow transplants should wait at least three months before getting vaccines, the group recommended.

The American Cancer Society’s chief medical and scientific officer, Dr. William Cance, said his organization is “strongly in favor of cancer patients and cancer survivors getting vaccinated, particularly older adults.”

Q: Should my 97-year-old mom, in a nursing home with dementia, get the covid vaccine?

The federal government and all 50 states recommend covid vaccines for long-term care residents, most of whom have Alzheimer’s disease or other types of cognitive impairment. This is an effort to stem the tide of covid-related illness and death that has swept through nursing homes and assisted living facilities — 37% of all covid deaths as of mid-January.

The Alzheimer’s Association also strongly encourages immunization against covid-19, “both for people [with dementia] living in long-term care and those living in the community, said Beth Kallmyer, vice president of care and support.

Minimizing suffering is a key consideration, said Dr. Michael Rafii, associate professor of clinical neurology at the University of Southern California’s Keck School of Medicine.

“Even if a person has end-stage dementia, you want to do anything you can to reduce the risk of suffering. And this vaccine provides individuals with a good deal of protection from suffering severe covid,” he said. “My advice is that everyone should get vaccinated, regardless of what stage of dementia they’re in.”

Q: I’m 80 and I have Type 2 diabetes and an autoimmune disease. Should I get the vaccine?

There are two parts to this question. The first has to do with “comorbidities” — having more than one medical condition. Should older adults with comorbidities get covid vaccines?

Absolutely, because they’re at higher risk of becoming seriously ill from covid, said Dr. Abinash Virk, an infectious diseases specialist and co-chair of the Mayo Clinic’s covid-19 vaccine rollout.

“Pfizer’s and Moderna’s studies specifically looked at people who were older and had comorbidities, and they showed that vaccine response was similar to [that of] people who were younger,” she noted.

The second part has to do with autoimmune illnesses such as lupus or rheumatoid arthritis, which also put people at higher risk. The concern here is that a vaccine might trigger inflammatory responses that could exacerbate these conditions.

Philippa Marrack, chair of the department of immunology and genomic medicine at National Jewish Health in Denver, said there’s no scientifically rigorous data on how patients with autoimmune conditions respond to the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines.

So far, reasons for concern haven’t surfaced. “More than 100,000 people have gotten these vaccines now, including some who probably had autoimmune disease, and there’s been no systematic reporting of problems,” Marrack said. If patients with autoimmune disorders are really worried, they should talk with their physicians about delaying immunization until other covid vaccines with different formulations become available, she suggested.

Last week, the National Multiple Sclerosis Society recommended that most patients with multiple sclerosis — another serious autoimmune condition — get the Pfizer or Moderna covid vaccines.

“The vaccines are not likely to trigger an MS relapse or to worsen your chronic MS symptoms. The risk of getting COVID-19 far outweighs any risk of having an MS relapse from the vaccine,” it said in a statement.

Kaiser Health News is a nonprofit news service covering health issues. It is an editorially independent program of the Kaiser Family Foundation, which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

Can ‘Magic Mushrooms’ Help Dying Patients?

By JoNel Aleccia, Kaiser Health News

Back in March, just as anxiety over COVID-19 began spreading across the U.S., Erinn Baldeschwiler of La Conner, Washington, found herself facing her own private dread.

Just 48 and the mother of two teenagers, Baldeschwiler was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer after discovering a small lump on her chest, no bigger than a pea.

Within weeks, it was the size of a golf ball, angry and red. Doctors gave her two years to live.

“It’s heartbreaking,” she said. “Frankly, I was terrified.”

But instead of retreating into her illness, Baldeschwiler is pouring energy into a new effort to help dying patients gain legal access to psilocybin — the mind-altering compound found in so-called magic mushrooms — to ease their physical and psychic pain.

“I have personally struggled with depression, anxiety, anger,” Baldeschwiler said. “This therapy is designed to really dive in and release these negative fears and shadows.”

Erinn Baldeschwiler

Dr. Sunil Aggarwal, a Seattle palliative care physician, and Kathryn Tucker, a lawyer who advocates on behalf of terminally ill patients and chairs a psychedelic practice group at Emerge Law Group, are championing a novel strategy that would make psilocybin available using state and federal “right-to-try” laws that allow terminally ill patients access to investigational drugs.

They contend that psilocybin — whether found in psychedelic mushrooms or synthetic copies — meets the criteria for use laid out by more than 40 states and the 2017 Right to Try Act approved by the Trump administration.

“Can you look at the statute and see by its terms that it applies to psilocybin?” Tucker said. “I think the answer is yes.”

Currently, psilocybin use is illegal under federal law, classified as a Schedule 1 drug under the U.S. Controlled Substances Act, which applies to chemicals and substances with no accepted medical use and a high potential for abuse, such as heroin and LSD.

Recently, however, several U.S. cities and states have voted to decriminalize possession of small amounts of psilocybin. This month, Oregon became the first state to legalize psilocybin for regulated use in treating intractable mental health problems. The first patients will have access beginning in January 2023.

It’s part of a wider movement to rekindle acceptance of psilocybin, which was among psychedelic drugs vilified — and ultimately banned — after the legendary counterculture excesses of the 1960s and 1970s.

“I think a lot of those demons, those fears, have been metabolized in the 50 years since then,” Aggarwal said. “Not completely, but we’ve moved it along so that it’s safe to try again.”

He points to a growing body of evidence that finds that psilocybin can have significant and lasting effects on psychological distress. The Johns Hopkins Center for Psychedelic and Consciousness Research, launched this year, has published dozens of peer-reviewed studies confirming that psilocybin helped patients grappling with major depressive disorder and suicidal thoughts.

Researchers are also looking at psilocybin as a treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), Lyme disease syndrome, cluster headaches and migraines. A small placebo-controlled study by Yale researchers found that migraine sufferers experienced a significant decrease in weekly migraine days after only one dose of psilocybin. 

“Psilocybin was well-tolerated; there were no unexpected or serious adverse events or withdrawals due to adverse events. This exploratory study suggests there is an enduring therapeutic effect in migraine headache after a single administration of psilocybin,” researchers found. 

Psilocybin Shifts Perception

Psilocybin therapy appears to work by chemically altering brain function in a way that temporarily affects a person’s ego, or sense of self. In essence, it plays on the out-of-body experiences made famous in portrayals of America’s psychedelic ’60s.

“What psychedelics do is foster a frame shift from feeling helpless and hopeless and that life is not worth living to seeing that we are connected to other people and we are connected to a universe that has inherent connection,” said Dr. Ira Byock, a palliative care specialist and medical officer for the Institute for Human Caring at Providence St. Joseph Health.

“Along with that shift in perspective, there is very commonly a notable dissolution of the fear of dying, of nonexistence and of loss, and that’s just remarkable.”

The key is to offer the drugs under controlled conditions, in a quiet room supervised by a trained guide, Byock said. “It turned out they are exceedingly safe when used in a carefully screened, carefully guided situation with trained therapists,” he said. “Almost the opposite is true when used in an unprepared, unscreened population.”

The FDA has granted “breakthrough therapy” status to psilocybin for use in U.S. clinical trials conducted by Compass Pathways, a psychedelic research group in Britain, and by the Usona Institute, a nonprofit medical research group in Wisconsin. More than three dozen trials are recruiting participants or completed, federal records show.

But access to the drug remains a hurdle. Though psychedelic mushrooms grow wild in the Pacific Northwest and underground sources of the drug are available, finding a legal supply is nearly impossible.

End of Life Washington, a group focused on helping terminally ill patients use the state’s Death With Dignity Act, recently published a policy that supports psilocybin therapy as a form of palliative care. Other treatments for anxiety and depression, such as medication and counseling, may simply not be practical or effective at that point, said Judith Gordon, a psychologist and member of the group’s board of directors.

“When people are dying, they don’t have the time or the energy to do a lot of psychotherapy,” she said.

Baldeschwiler agrees. With perhaps less than two years to live, she wants access to any tool that can ease her pain. Immunotherapy has helped with the physical symptoms, dramatically shrinking the size of the tumor on her chest. Harder to treat has been the gnawing anxiety that she won’t see her 16-year-old daughter, Shea McGinnis, and 13-year-old son, Gibson McGinnis, become adults.

“They are beautiful children, good spirits,” she said. “To know I might not be around for them sucks. It’s really hard.”

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

Scanxiety: My Fear of Cancer Recurrence

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

Several months back, For Grace’s conference planning committee invited our webcaster, Rich, to join the call to talk logistics about our upcoming virtual “Pain-Cancer Connection” event. Rich is a long-time cancer survivor who’s dealt with decades of chronic pain as a result of his aggressive treatment.

It soothed me to talk with him because I was in the midst of brutal chemotherapy. I could relate when Rich shared his nightmare of getting one infusion too many and lying on the floor weeping after losing much of this tongue. I also understood Rich bungie jumping off a Las Vegas building after his treatment in a quest to find something scarier than chemo.

But that ease turned to discomfort when Rich warned me, “Oh Cynthia, you don’t know yet. There’s so much anxiety that comes with cancer.”

While I’ve long been aware that if triple-negative breast cancer returns, it tends to do so more aggressively in the first year or two, Rich was my introduction to “scanxiety.” We cancer survivors live in often paralyzing fear of a recurrence, one that will likely end us. In fact, I was recently stunned to hear a breast cancer survivor speak publicly of her relief when the cancer returned. She preferred to battle the disease again rather than the anxiety.

Now after sweating bullets through my first post-remission imaging, I can’t help but wonder how much scanxiety is reinforced by our broken healthcare system’s reliance on an endless stream of patients whose wellness would pose a threat to their business model.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the cancer industry thrives on a culture of fear, intentional or not. I’m certain that’s why patients gratefully say “yes” to every treatment offered without blinking. And that’s why I was looked at like I had two heads when I questioned every proposed therapy, relied on my own research, did everything integratively and said “no” to most of my provider’s drugs, scans and (over) treatments.

Sadly, my scanxiety began the moment I attained remission. My oncology surgeon -- who’s still terrified because I didn’t go with her standard-of-care surgery, even though studies support that as a complete responder I had a better chance at surviving without it – told me to do twice weekly breast exams. She then attempted to comfort me by assuring we’d do surgery after the cancer grew back. Those hyper-vigilant exams made me so tender my coordinating nurse told me to back off.

As my initial every-three-month imaging neared, scanxiety reared its ugly head and seriously messed with my health. I stopped sleeping restoratively and was plagued by nightmares. Obsessing on the worst outcome, I started getting severe headaches while my IBS went through the roof.

My terror went into hyper-drive when I found an inflamed lymph node in my neck, the same side as my former tumor. This fright didn’t just infect the patient.  John developed body-wide hives that looked like eczema on steroids, and my close girlfriends felt like they were having nervous breakdowns.

After my breast scan was clean, I rejoiced with John about how we deliberately made all the right choices. My surgeon broke up the party when she entered the examining room voicing her concern about my neck lymph node. Due to its location being a few inches higher than my breast area and healthcare being its dysfunctional self (every department can only scan a small area of the body), I had to wait another WEEK to find out if the cancer had metastasized.

During that soul-rattling scan the imaging technician said the node was abnormal and that I’d hear from my doctor soon. While John wheeled me to the car, I lost my shit and began screaming in the parking garage. I knew “abnormal” meant I was going to die and that six grueling months of chemotherapy hadn’t helped me in the least. How could I have been so wrong?!

I continued screaming in the car until my screamer gave out, while my stomach knotted and head throbbed. Mercifully, my doctor’s call late the next day told me all was clear. That both relieved and angered me; relief because I was assured another three months on the planet, but deeply pissed off because this healthcare-induced trauma was majorly messing with my cancer-fighting terrain. I make it my priority to practice healthy life-style choices to keep my body and mind well and in harmony.

Toxic Medicine

But the body keeps the score. After that last scan, I got a chemo-induced bladder infection from hell, one that’s still knocking me out despite a week on Cipro. With this infection that appears to be moving into my kidneys, multiple chemo side effects have re-roosted; fatigue, heavy heart throbbing, tinnitus and labored breathing. I find myself in the midst of my most recent outcome of fear-based medicine, and I remain snared in their illness-inducing, money making system.    

Deeper reflection leads me to believe that even my “innocuous” port flushes are part of this web of toxic medicine. Every seven weeks (though they push for four), I visit the infusion center where the nurses honestly seem put off, even hostile, that I’m doing well, smiling and in good spirits.

Apparently my role is to be fearful, inferior and vulnerable, and my upbeat, empowered demeanor rattles them. Rather than celebrating winning my life back or chiming in about simple pleasures like fashion and hair color, they drill me about how my post-treatment is going (what post-treatment?!) and what horrors my next scan might bring. My medical oncologist there is so buried in the fear culture, I schedule my appointments to avoid him.

Breathe.

Thankfully, I saw my saint of an integrative doctor last week who set me straight. Dr. Taw was visibly disturbed when I shared my run-ins with these healthcare providers, and was concerned that their behavior might stir things up and create cancer sparking “stagnation” in my body. Several times, he gave me his full support to stay away from these toxic people as much as possible to hold wellness. I couldn’t agree more.

Still, I am wary of my next scan. Despite every logical indicator telling me I’ll likely be A-ok, these people and their diet of fear embed me with dread. I see more than ever that this doesn’t just apply to my last year plus of cancer care; it also applies to my 38-year wrangling with high-impact pain. These western medicine devotees, while they claim to be healers, are the polar opposite for me. And their negative energy creates illness, rather than mitigating it.

Let’s not have to take a bungie jump off a building to overcome our latest medically-induced trauma. I implore you to stay away from these healthcare providers and their dysfunctional, money-based system as much as possible. To be fair, they do some good – but by a long measure, they hurt us beyond repair, again and again.  And again.

Please seek out integrative healing that is non-invasive and wellness (rather than fear) based. Your body and mind will thank you.  

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 15 co-morbidities for nearly 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.” 

Surviving COVID-19 Together

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

I’m a survivor. At least that’s what I’m called now that I’ve fought my way into cancer remission.

But why the new acknowledgement? As a person who’s endured childhood trauma and decades of high-impact pain with 15 comorbidities, including chronic fatigue, I earned the “survivor” label a lifetime ago. My world has been up-ended and negatively impacted in most every way since 1982.

It’s just that the aforementioned health crises were never taken as seriously. But because I’ve made it through the most aggressive form of breast cancer, I’m at last an honest-to-goodness, card-carrying survivor. Okay, I guess I’ll take it.

In any event, as a person who’s been seriously ill for nearly four decades, I’m accustomed to going from the frying pan into the fire. True to form, after enduring six months of grueling cancer treatment, I find myself coming out of a long, dark tunnel just to step into a bizarre new one. Enter COVID-19.

Yes, I’m alive, recovering well and wanting to move forward. Trouble is, there is no moving forward during this pandemic. 

More troubling, while able-bodied friends who can’t imagine life-long illness try to give comfort by reminding me that I just have to get into the new, temporary COVID rhythm, I suspect something more ominous will bring me my next survivorship card. And I’m concerned we’ll all own a piece of that plastic.

If you think about it, COVID-19 appears to be globally playing out just like a chronic illness. The virus started as something new and relatively small, a nasty bug that was different, but nothing to write home about. As it picked up steam, the threat settled in and the masses went into crisis mode. Now people are cut-off, lonely and depressed while longing for the life they had. Sound familiar?

Deep down, I’m sadly sensing there’s no going back. Like severe chronic illness, temporary isn’t an option once life has fundamentally changed on a profound level. Bad begets bad as things start going down the rabbit hole. And what of the pandemics to come?  I’m guessing the best we can hope for is acceptance and learning a new way of life. A new normal, if you will.

I don’t think healthy people have the ability or perspective to grasp this possibility. I don’t blame them, that’s understandably too bitter a pill. But that’s what we with high-impact pain do -- continue to adopt new normal after new normal due to loss, abandonment and disappointment. We carry on.

Still, right now, I deserve to be out-of-my-mind angry.

Being a cancer survivor means living with acute anxiety. If my cancer recurs, it will most likely be in the first year or two and much more aggressively. I want to live every moment I have to the fullest, but the world is shut down. I ponder whether my life partner John and I will ever again have an intimate dinner with friends, travel to an exotic destiny or go to a ballgame. I chose to fight cancer like a Tasmanian devil with the promise of life if I won mine. This feels like a massive bait and switch.

While I have the right to be hugely teed off, I’m trying like hell to make a different choice. I’m moving away from bitterness, as I learned long ago that sour grapes don’t get me squat. As my surrogate dad used to lovingly remind me, “It is what it is.”

Healthy Habits

So here’s what I’m doing to take my best shot at maintaining remission, keeping my pain in check and, yep, be a COVID survivor.

I’m using my quiet time to learn how to live the healthiest of lifestyle choices so my “terrain” will remain cancer hostile. Besides diet, exercise and finding purpose, this includes stress-management, the “Big Balance” that I’m finally learning  to master. In fact, I’m enjoying shedding my reputation as the woman who gets five things done before breakfast.

It starts with quality sleep, a HUGE challenge due to fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome. These days I’m in bed before 9pm. During this sacred, unwinding time, I don’t listen to COVID coverage or use my iPhone before falling asleep around 11pm. Instead, I meditate, tune into stimulating talk radio, and spend loving time with John and our two kitties. Happy to report I’m sleeping more restoratively than I have in two decades. And it feels like a miracle!

Another new healthy habit is checking in with my body several times a day. I lovingly ask what it needs, then nourish it. I’m deeply listening to its wisdom for the first time in my life. For example, I no longer count my swimming laps, but instead stop when it feels right. And I call it quits with my forever meaningful work before I skid into fatigue. If you know me, you know this is the new me. I’m even learning how to say “no.”  

I occasionally see a few close friends while social distancing, and John and I spend long, relaxing evenings at our neighborhood park. We eat plant-based whole foods (amping up our intake of fruits, veggies, nuts and berries), play backgammon, people/dog watch, and just sit and talk as the sun sets. I’m reconnecting with my love of film, books and music — and I’m considering getting an acting agent for disabled talent, as well as diving deep into French language and culture, a longtime passion of mine.

Perhaps most important, I live in Gratitude. I thank God for every day, for every miracle that knocks at my door. I’ve always been juiced by the big things; now the little things are just as gorgeous and life affirming. And I hold onto hope. You gotta have hope.

Hey, maybe the new normal to come will be glorious. It’s really up to us. We with high-impact pain have adaptive super powers that can lead the way for those newly initiated to serious life upset. We can be the example. Let’s stay calm, mask up, hand wash and do a dance (while six feet-apart).

I’m more than willing to add COVID survivor to my list of making-do-with-the-impossible. I gain strength and grace from knowing we’re in this together.

We got this.      

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 15 co-morbidities for nearly four decades. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.” 

The Wisdom of CRPS: Making My Final Cancer Treatment Decision

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

A year ago when I got my triple-negative breast cancer diagnosis, the second dreadful thought that ran through my head – perhaps worse than the Big C – was that for any chance at survival I had to once again enter the horrific world of western medicine, a system that for decades had brought me only misery when it came to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS).

After five months of researching and contemplating what might be my most hopeful and least harmful treatment strategy, I began chemotherapy with a healthy level of trepidation. While chemo torture can only be described as indescribable, I was stunned and pleased to do well out of the gates. In fact, my tumor disappeared during week one.

In all, I miraculously completed 17 chemo infusions while escaping lethal complications, only because my integrative doctor, Dr. Malcolm Taw, kept a check on my oncologist’s over-treatment. Let it be known that when some people die from “complications of cancer,” they’re really dying from doctors taking that lethal risk due to money and/or hubris. A personal example is the week my infusion nurse refused to administer chemo because my blood count was so low she was afraid I’d get an infection and die.

My oncologist’s goal for me was 18 infusions, a ridiculously high number that I began questioning when I hit twelve. My hair was already growing back, while my body was rabidly flushing the drugs out of my system (don’t ask).

I couldn’t find anyone, in person or on the internet, who’d done more than 12 infusions. Scarier, an oncologist who filled in one morning shared with me that at no time in his career had he seen someone order so many.

My guess is that because my oncologist and the massive health system she works for are aggressively working to prove this chemo regimen is a keeper, 18 would seal the deal for their final report.   

CYNTHIA TOUSSAINT

I reluctantly marched on with this needless torture for one reason. My oncologist fed me a steady diet of fear, western medicine at its best.

To keep me in line, I dealt with verbal assaults like, “Your cancer’s going to grow right back if you take a week off.” Another was the golden oldie, “I don’t like your questions!” And after the last infusion went south, I was speared with, “All of my other patients want to live.”

The reason I didn’t graduate at the top of my chemo class of one was that, while driving home from number 17, my hands and feet felt like they were bursting into flames while fireworks popped. When John got me upstairs to our condo, he took a picture of the beet-red appendages, my expression frighteningly pale.

After being hideously ill for four days, which is typical as side-effects are cumulative, one afternoon I played the piano for a few minutes and out of nowhere my CRPS, mixed with chemo and my new friend, neuropathy, appeared without mercy in my wrists and hands. As of this writing, five weeks later, I’ve had little let up. While my idiot oncologist never took my CRPS seriously, I’m suffering at a level 9-10 pain and laboring to navigate a world built for people with hands.

So much for number 18, which broke my heart. I’m a goal-oriented gal, and desperately wanted closure for trauma release. At infusion centers, people get to know each other, who lives and who doesn’t, and it’s a big deal when a patient completes their chemo course. The nurses do a hip-hip-hurrah, ring a bell and everyone gets to say goodbye and good luck. I gave it my crazy-strong best, but as usual, CRPS made my decision.

And it would make my next.

Despite not getting the last infusion in, I hit a home run. No, a grand slam. Confirmed with follow-up imaging, I’d achieved a clinical “Complete Response” – the best I could do and hope for. Turns out I’m what they call a “super responder.”

Standard of care dictates that with triple-negative cancer, complete response or not, surgery is mandated (lumpectomy and lymph node removal) to confirm all microscopic malignancies are gone.

This knowing had been looming like a dark cloud since my diagnosis. CRPS and surgery don’t make good bedfellows, as the cutting and tissue extracting tends to fire up nerves that can spark a full-blown CRPS flare. My past has taught me my flares can last a month. Or a lifetime.  

Still deeply influenced by my doctor’s fear-mongering, I kept coming back to surgery despite its risks and my gut telling me to go another way. For once in my life, I wished I’d been well enough to do all the goddamn treatments without having to work around my never-ending pain. Bottom line, I wanted my best shot at living.

But live how? After surgery, would I be left with a life worth living?

The pulsating, burning pain in my hands and wrists provided this answer too. My body told me, unequivocally, that surgery would leave me with the mother-of-all pulsating burning pain. Body-wide and never ending. 

Traumatized that I couldn’t make this big decision, my life-partner, John, reminded me that CRPS has made all of my decisions for me. It didn’t allow me to have a child. I still can’t marry John after 40 years. And it eviscerated my career, one I still yearn for every day. I’m angry that my disease boxes me into corners and knee-caps me at every turn.

Even so, I left fear behind and went toward the light. John and I found three studies, including a meta-analysis, that support de-escalating treatment for triple-negative complete responders. While still early and controversial, these studies show that women who choose active surveillance in lieu of surgery post-chemo live just as long and well -- dare I say even better -- than those who go under the knife.

My integrative doctor, and even my surgeon, are strongly backing my decision – as does my pain doctor who wryly commented, “I don’t see any reason to poke the bear.” 

I’m damn certain that the decision I’ve made to forego surgery will be the standard of care in 15 to 20 years – and that I’m the future. I know deep inside that my CRPS, for all of its hell and fury, is pointing me into a smarter, wiser decision than the one fear would have driven me to. 

This “super responder” is in remission, and moving on…              

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 15 co-morbidities for nearly four decades. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.” 

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The CDC, Opioids and Cancer Pain

By Roger Chriss, PNN Columnist

In 2016, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued its controversial opioid prescribing guideline. Insurers, states and other federal agencies soon followed with mandatory policies and regulations to reduce the use of opioid pain medication. All this was supposed to exclude cancer-related pain care, but in practice that’s not what happened.

Dr. Judith Paice, director of the Cancer Pain Program at Northwestern University’s Feinberg School of Medicine, told the National Cancer Institute in 2018 that the opioid crisis “has enhanced fear — fear of addiction in particular” among both patients and doctors.

“Many primary care doctors no longer prescribe opioids. Oncologists are still prescribing these medications, but in many cases they’re somewhat anxious about doing so. That has led some patients to have trouble even obtaining a prescription for pain medication,” Paice said.

In 2019, the Cancer Action Network said there has been “a significant increase in cancer patients and survivors being unable to access their opioid prescriptions.” One out of four said a pharmacy had refused to fill their opioid prescription and nearly a third reported their insurance refused to pay for their opioid medication.

That same year, CDC issued a long-awaited clarification noting the “misapplication” of the guideline to patients it was never intended for, including “patients with pain associated with cancer.”  

Long Term Use of Opioids Uncommon

Cancer pain management in the U.S. has been severely impacted by the CDC guideline, even though rates of long-term or “persistent” opioid use are relatively low and stable:

• A major review of over 100,000 military veterans who survived cancer found that only 8.3% were persistent opioid users. Less than 3% showed signs of opioid abuse or dependence.

• A study of older women with breast cancer who were prescribed opioids found that only 2.8% were persistent opioid users.  

• A study of 276 patients with head or neck cancer found that only 20 used opioids long-term – a rate of 7.2 percent.

• And a study of nearly 23,500 women with early-stage breast cancer who had a mastectomy or mastectomy found that 18% of them were using opioids 90 to 180 days after surgery, while 9% were still filling opioid prescriptions 181 to 365 days later.

While any sign of opioid abuse or addiction is concerning, these studies show that long-term use of opioid medication is relatively uncommon among cancer survivors. The American Cancer Society says opioids are “often a necessary part of a pain relief plan for cancer patients” and “can be safely prescribed and used” for cancer pain.

Cancer patients and their doctors have been successfully managing opioid risks long before the CDC guideline or associated state laws and regulations. Perhaps it is time for lawmakers, regulators, insurers and pharmacies to learn from the cancer community rather than getting in the way of clinical best practices.

Roger Chriss lives with Ehlers Danlos syndrome and is a proud member of the Ehlers-Danlos Society. Roger is a technical consultant in Washington state, where he specializes in mathematics and research.