FDA Flip Flops (Again) on Kratom

By Pat Anson

The Food and Drug Administration can’t seem to make up its mind about kratom.

Just 10 days after publishing an initial notice in the Federal Register seeking public comment on a study about the risk and safety of kratom and psychedelic substances, the agency abruptly withdrew its request.

“FDA no longer intends to proceed with the proposed study as described because circumstances occurred necessitating changes to the scope of the study,” the FDA said in a brief statement, without explaining what “circumstances” changed.

Kratom is an herbal supplement made from the leaves of a tree in southeast Asia, where it has been used for centuries as a stimulant and pain reliever. In recent years, millions of Americans have discovered that kratom can be used to treat pain, anxiety, depression and addiction. The FDA takes a dim view of that, because it has not approved kratom for any medical condition.

“Notably, kratom's unapproved status does not appear to have diminished its growing popularity, with people using kratom to reportedly ‘treat’ certain health conditions. Its chemical affinity with opioid and use among patients with opioids use disorder as a ‘treatment’ is of public health concern for the Agency,” the FDA said in its August 2 notice. “The use of this substance, that has yet to be tested and determined safe for use in human population by the Agency, is a significant concern.”

The FDA seems particularly interested in studying how consumers buy kratom or psychedelic substances, what benefits they get from them, and whether “marketing strategies nudge purchase and affect use demand.” The FDA hired a market research firm, the Brightfield Group, to conduct an “Exploratory Behavioral Economics Study” to see what motivates kratom and psychedelic users.

The agency could have saved itself some time and money by looking at the findings from a PNN survey of 6,150 kratom users. Over 90% said kratom was “very effective” at treating pain and other medical conditions, and 98% didn’t believe kratom was harmful or dangerous.

‘Embarassing Mistake’

Kratom advocates say the FDA’s withdrawal of the study notice was the “latest embarrassing mistake” the agency has made about kratom.

In 2016, the FDA joined with the DEA in proposing that kratom be classified as an illegal Schedule I controlled substance, a request that was later withdrawn due to the “significant risk of immediate adverse public health consequences” if kratom was banned nationwide. A top federal health official said FDA staff based their scheduling request on “embarrassingly poor evidence & data.”

“The FDA’s few anti-kratom staff are repeatedly undermining the Agency’s credibility on harm reduction strategies,” Mac Haddow, Senior Fellow on Public Policy at the American Kratom Association (AKA), said in a statement. “The FDA remains trapped in the web of their own making that unfairly demonizes products like kratom and psychedelics that, when properly used, are helping people who struggle with addictions and mental health issues and that are saving lives.”

Others disagree about kratom’s safety. The Brightfield Group is tracking social media posts about kratom and is reportedly seeing more online discussions about its risks and addictive properties. While hundreds of deaths have been linked to kratom use, most cases involve other drugs and illicit substances, making it difficult to determine the exact cause of death.  

“Describing kratom as a ‘benign botanical supplement’ is dangerously misleading. Kratom has documented risks, including addiction potential. Downplaying these risks does a disservice to consumers,” says attorney Matt Wetherington, who represents the family of Ethan Pope, a Georgia man who died after consuming a potent kratom extract called Black Liquid Kratom, made by Optimized Plant Mediated Solutions (OPMS).  

Pope’s family has filed a wrongful death lawsuit against OPMS, as well as the AKA and other kratom vendors. The FDA issued a recent alert urging people not to ingest Black Liquid Kratom, a warning the AKA has characterized as a “coordinated effort” by trial lawyers to drum up more clients for a class action lawsuit.  

“The AKA's overall combative tone towards the FDA and trial lawyers is counterproductive. Constantly framing regulators as enemies undermines opportunities for constructive dialogue that could actually benefit kratom users,” says Wetherington. “No one but the FDA actually knows why they withdrew the request to study. Speculating beyond their stated reason is a fool’s errand.”

An Insider’s Perspective on CDC’s ‘Disastrous War on Opioids’

By Pat Anson

Dr. Charles LeBaron is a medical epidemiologist who worked for 28 years at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. LeBaron was not directly involved in developing the CDC’s 2016 opioid guideline, but knew colleagues who did and largely supported their efforts to rein in opioid prescribing.

Then LeBaron developed crippling pain from a meningitis infection and learned firsthand how the CDC guideline was harming patients. While hospitalized, he screamed into his pillow at night because a nurse -- following the CDC’s recommendations -- gave him inadequate doses of oxycodone. The pain relief only lasted a couple of hours, and then he had to wait in misery for the next dose.

“I hadn't experienced the pain that so many patients feel, so I hadn't had the level of sensitivity to the issue that would have benefited me. It took full personal experience to straighten me out,” said LeBaron. “You'd rather be dead than in pain. In that bubble of pain, it really is life changing.

“Once you experience that, you tend to view things very differently through a very different lens. At least that was my experience. There was nothing like being in acute pain.”

LeBaron eventually recovered from the infection and no longer needed oxycodone. He also didn’t become addicted. That lived experience made him wonder if the CDC -- his longtime employer – made mistakes in developing the guideline. He came to recognize that the CDC’s push to limit opioid doses was based on weak evidence and the false presumption that many patients quickly become addicted.

Most of all, he was shocked at how quickly the CDC guideline was adopted throughout the healthcare system. He’d never seen anything like it, in all his years at the agency.

“Most of the recommendations we come out with, that people should eat right, exercise or whatever, no one ever bothers doing. We have a tough time getting people to do things. This recommendation? They just had remarkably fast implementation,” LeBaron told PNN.

“I've never seen a recommendation that got implemented that fast and that hard by so many actors. Normally, it’s like herding cats in public health, trying to get everybody involved. And for prescription medications, there are a million cats. There are pharmacies, benefit managers, physicians, insurance and so forth. This thing just took off.”

Now retired, LeBaron decided to write a book about his personal experience with pain, along with a critique of the CDC guideline. “Greed to Do Good: The Untold Story of CDC’s Disastrous War on Opioids” gives a rare insider’s look into how the agency works and thinks.

The word “greed” may suggest there were financial motives behind the CDC guideline, but LeBaron says it’s more a matter of pride and hubris that borders on institutionalized arrogance.

The agency was so caught up in its reputation as the “world’s premier public health agency” -- one that defeated polio, smallpox, HIV and other infectious disease outbreaks -- that it developed an outsized belief that it could do no wrong.

According to LeBaron, that was the mindset that Dr. Tom Frieden had when he was named CDC Director during the Obama administration. While serving as New York City’s health commissioner, Frieden led ambitious campaigns to stamp out tuberculosis, ban smoking in public places, and limit unhealthy trans fats served in the city’s restaurants.  

At CDC, LeBaron says Frieden became “the driving force” behind a campaign to limit opioid prescriptions as a way to reduce rising rates of opioid overdoses.

“I would not attribute vicious and evil impulses to the people who were involved,” says LeBaron. “I think they were gravely mistaken, but not driven by the desire to harm. They conceived of themselves as wanting to do good in a very emphatic fashion.

“The problem here was not the motivation, the notion that if you can kind of reduce prescription opioids, maybe you'll reduce subsequent addiction. The problem was not looking at the thing sufficiently quantitatively and then not checking the consequences, or at least responding to the consequences when they're brought to your attention.”

People working in public health are normally careful about tracking the outcomes of their policies. But before and after the CDC guideline, the agency turned a deaf ear to a chorus of complaints that it was forcing millions of patients on long-term opioids into rapid tapers that resulted in uncontrolled pain, withdrawal and even suicide.    

Worst of all, the number of fatal opioid overdoses doubled to over 80,000 annually after the guideline’s release, an outcome that demonstrated CDC had gone after the wrong target at the wrong time and with the wrong solution.

“The typical person who's having an overdose is a 30-year-old male taking illicit medication. The most typical person who's getting chronic opioids for pain would be a 60-year-old woman with a variety of rheumatological conditions. So you're aiming at a completely off-center target,” LeBaron explained.

“Then subsequently the data started coming in that, in effect, you are worsening the situation. If you take people who really need pain control off their meds, in a sense, it normalizes illegal acquisition.

“If somebody is really in terrible pain, needs opioid medication and can't get it through the legal system, pain is a remarkable motivator. Very few motivators are as strong as pain. And ultimately, somebody will come up to you and say, ‘I know a guy.’ And sure enough, then you end up with completely uncontrolled, unregulated stuff.”

Not until 2022 did the CDC revise its original guideline and give doctors more flexibility in prescribing opioids. By then, its 2016 recommendations were so ingrained in the U.S. healthcare system that the revisions had little, if any, impact.

Frieden left the CDC in 2017. LeBaron says Frieden’s two immediate successors did little to address the overdose crisis and the harms created by the guideline. But he does have hope for the agency’s current director, Dr. Mandy Cohen, because she has experience in public health and a better understanding of the primary role played by illicit fentanyl and other street drugs in the overdose crisis.

Asked if the CDC guideline should be scrapped or withdrawn completely, LeBaron is circumspect. He thinks a review of the guideline is in order, as well as a return to public health policies that are checked and double-checked to make sure they have outcomes that actually work.

“The difficulty here, in my opinion, is many of the same problems continue to exist, even though the personalities are completely different, and there are still significant restrictions on people in chronic pain for no apparent benefit. There continues to be very high rate of overdoses,” LeBaron said.

“I'm kind of a diehard public health guy. I want to see whether anything good happens. Nothing good happened. Time to reconsider.”

What Doctors Really Mean When They Say It’s an ‘Easy Surgery’

By Crystal Lindell

Back in 2009, I had an “easy surgery” to get my gallbladder removed after multiple excruciating gallbladder attacks. Before the operation, my surgeon went on and on about how easy the surgery would be. He emphasized multiple times how simple it was.

I went into that operating room completely underestimating what I would experience when I came out of the anesthesia. 

I woke up from that surgery vomiting so much that the single hour I was scheduled to spend in post-op recovery turned into eight hours. And instead of the three days I was told that I’d need for recovery at home, I spent seven days in excruciating pain, unable to get off the couch without wanting to scream. 

That’s when I realized that a “simple” surgery just means simple for the doctor to perform. It’s also when I started to realize that this logic applies to all the ways doctors explain health issues. 

In fact, when doctors describe any health issues, they aren’t talking about the patient’s experience at all – they are talking about how they themselves experience it. They love to use terms like mild, simple, and easy. But patients should understand that they are not describing the patient experience when they say these things. 

Mild case of the flu? That just means they don’t have to see you in person to treat you. But it could still mean you’re unable to get out of bed for a month. 

Easy surgery? That means it’s easy for them to perform. It has no relation to how difficult recovery will be for you. 

Post-op discomfort? Yeah, it’s super uncomfortable for the doctor to have to see you in so much excruciating pain before they send you home in agony. 

This even applies to the ways doctors often describe medications. They’ll often say a prescription is “a very strong drug” – but only because it’s difficult for them to prescribe because of things like health insurance denials and DEA paperwork. Meanwhile, the side effects from what they call a “common” generic medication could ruin your body and your life. 

This is a lesson that patients often have to learn the hard way. I have. But now, as someone with a chronic illness, I understand. 

While I have only been hospitalized overnight one time since I first got really sick in 2013, doctors would tell you this means I have a “mild” case of intercostal neuralgia and that my Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome is “mild.”

Yet chronic pain and EDS have impacted every single aspect of my life. From my career, to my love life, to how often I’m able to shower. It’s impacted what clothes I can wear because tight shirts are so painful that I can’t leave the house if I try to wear them. I’ve had to quit jobs because I couldn’t work through the pain. And the guy I was dating when I first got sick eventually broke up with me because my health issues were too much for him to handle.

Hearing doctors describe my health issues as “mild” feels both insulting and disorientating. But worse than that, it can also impact how willing doctors are to investigate and treat my health problems. It’s likely why, despite how urgent chronic pain has been for me from the start, it still took doctors five full years to even diagnose me with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. As long as I didn’t need emergency medical care, there was no rush on their end. 

I’m not sure it’s worth it for patients to push back on these types of health descriptors. In my experience, it doesn’t usually change how doctors are responding to you. But understanding it yourself – knowing that how a doctor describes your health problem isn’t necessarily indicative of how severe it is to experience it as the patient – can itself be freeing. 

And sometimes, you may even run into a good doctor, who makes this type of thing clear to you as a patient. They are rare, but they do exist. 

You can also take comfort in the fact that if the doctors who don’t make it clear to the patient ever have to endure what you’ve been through, they will come to understand how inaccurate and insulting their descriptors were. Afterall, nothing about something like surgery is ever easy for the patient.

It’s All In Your Head: How Brain Circuitry Causes Placebo Effect

By Crystal Lindell

The placebo effect is very real. But how and why it happens has mostly remained a mystery. 

However, new research may shed light on what exactly is happening in our brains when just the expectation of pain relief is sufficient for people to feel better, even when the pill or treatment they’re taking has no therapeutic value.

The discovery may even lead to new treatment options. 

In studies on laboratory mice, researchers at the University of North Carolina School of Medicine discovered a pain control pathway that links the front of the brain, through the middle region of the brainstem, to the cerebellum in the back of the brain.

They then showed that certain parts of this pathway are activided in mice when they anticipate pain relief. 

“Our results do open the possibility of activating this pathway through other therapeutic means, such as drugs or neurostimulation methods to treat pain,” says lead researcher Greg Scherrer, PharmD, associate professor in the UNC Department of Cell Biology and Physiology, who conducted the study along with colleagues at Stanford, the Howard Hughes Medical Institute, and the Allen Institute for Brain Science. 

The research, recently published in the journal Nature, provides a new framework for investigating the brain pathways underlying other mind-body interactions beyond the ones involved in pain.

“We all know we need better ways to treat chronic pain, particularly treatments without harmful side effects and addictive properties,” Scherrer said. “We think our findings open the door to targeting this novel neural pain pathway to treat people in a different but potentially more effective way.”

How Scientists Studied Placebo Effect

The placebo effect is basically the brain’s way of trying to help us feel better. As such, just the expectation of pain relief is often enough to make our brains release hormones and natural chemicals that provide relief. Positive thinking and even prayer have been shown to provide similar benefits to patients, without the use of medication. 

The scientific community’s understanding of the placebo effect primarily came from human brain imaging studies, which showed increased activity in certain brain regions. However, those studies did not have enough precision to show what was actually happening in those brain regions. 

So Scherrer’s team designed a set of complex experiments to learn in more detail what was happening in the brain.

First, they created a method to generate in mice the expectation of pain relief. Then they used a series of experiments to study the anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) of their brains, which had previously been associated with the placebo effect. 

The experiments helped them see the intricate neurobiology of the placebo effect on the receptors, neurons, and synapses of the brain. When mice expected pain relief, it boosted signaling along the pain pathway.

“There is an extraordinary abundance of opioid receptors here, supporting a role in pain modulation,” Scherrer said. “When we inhibited activity in this pathway, we realized we were disrupting placebo analgesia and decreasing pain thresholds. And then, in the absence of placebo conditioning, when we activated this pathway, we caused pain relief.”

In a 2021 study, researchers had a similar breakthrough when studying the placebo effect. Researchers at Dartmouth University conducted an analysis of neuroimaging studies involving over 600 healthy people who participated in placebo studies. Their findings showed that placebo treatments reduced pain-related activity in multiple areas of the human brain.

Can Complex Regional Pain Syndrome Be Cured?

By Pat Anson

A recent study by Australian researchers is challenging the notion that Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) cannot be cured.

CRPS is a nerve disorder that often starts with an injury to an arm or leg, with the skin in the affected area becoming warm, red and painful to touch. Most cases are mild and people soon recover, but in rare cases it gets worse, resulting in chronic nerve pain that spreads throughout the body.  Because CRPS is difficult to predict, diagnose and treat, there’s been a long-held belief that it’s a lifelong illness.

“In this research we challenge the prevailing notion that CRPS is a lifelong burden,” says Michael Ferraro, a clinical researcher at the Centre for Pain IMPACT at Neuroscience Research Australia. “By reviewing and consolidating the latest developments in understanding CRPS, we’ve found that unlike previous theories, recovery is likely for most people with CRPS, and may be more likely with early diagnosis and a comprehensive treatment approach to match the multi-system nature of the disorder.”

Ferraro is lead author of a review in The Lancet Neurology, which maintains that 80% of CRPS patients can recover, if they are treated within the first 18 months of being diagnosed. The key is to “tackle CRPS from all angles” by combining pain medication, rehabilitation, and psychology with patient education about the condition.

Although the authors admit that “effective treatment of CRPS remains a challenge,” they think providers have learned a lot over the past five years about early identification of patients at high risk of CRPS, which is also known as Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD).

“This is a major step towards better understanding CPRS. While more research is needed, our review highlights that biological and psychosocial factors are involved, and successful management of the disorder should target these factors,” says co-author Lorimer Moseley, PhD, a Professor of Clinical Neurosciences at University of South Australia. “The next steps will require national and international networks of researchers to test the most promising treatments in clinical trials.”

One study that’s already underway is the MEMOIR trial, funded by the Australian government, which is testing an analgesic drug and a newly developed rehabilitation program as potential treatments for CRPS.

Another recent study identified a genetic variant that may be involved in about a third of CRPS cases, which could potentially lead to earlier diagnoses.

Some CRPS patients are also finding relief through novel treatments, such as Scrambler therapy and ketamine infusions.

Pain Shouldn’t Be Rated on a Scale of Zero to 10

By Dr. Elisabeth Rosenthal, KFF Health News

Over the past two years, a simple but baffling request has preceded most of my encounters with medical professionals: “Rate your pain on a scale of zero to 10.”

I trained as a physician and have asked patients the very same question thousands of times, so I think hard about how to quantify the sum of the sore hips, the prickly thighs, and the numbing, itchy pain near my left shoulder blade. I pause and then, mostly arbitrarily, choose a number. “Three or four?” I venture, knowing the real answer is long, complicated, and not measurable in this one-dimensional way.

Pain is a squirrely thing. It’s sometimes burning, sometimes drilling, sometimes a deep-in-the-muscles clenching ache. Mine can depend on my mood or how much attention I afford it and can recede nearly entirely if I’m engrossed in a film or a task.

Pain can also be disabling enough to cancel vacations, or so overwhelming that it leads people to opioid addiction. Even 10+ pain can be bearable when it’s endured for good reason, like giving birth to a child. But what’s the purpose of the pains I have now, the lingering effects of a head injury?

The concept of reducing these shades of pain to a single number dates to the 1970s. But the zero-to-10 scale is ubiquitous today because of what was called a “pain revolution” in the ’90s, when intense new attention to addressing pain — primarily with opioids — was framed as progress.

Doctors today have a fuller understanding of treating pain, as well as the terrible consequences of prescribing opioids so readily. What they are learning only now is how to better measure pain and treat its many forms.

About 30 years ago, physicians who championed the use of opioids gave robust new life to what had been a niche specialty: pain management. They started pushing the idea that pain should be measured at every appointment as a “fifth vital sign.” The American Pain Society went as far as copyrighting the phrase.

But unlike the other vital signs — blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, and breathing rate — pain had no objective scale. How to measure the unmeasurable? The society encouraged doctors and nurses to use the zero-to-10 rating system. Around that time, the FDA approved OxyContin, a slow-release opioid painkiller made by Purdue Pharma. The drugmaker itself encouraged doctors to routinely record and treat pain, and aggressively marketed opioids as an obvious solution.

To be fair, in an era when pain was too often ignored or undertreated, the zero-to-10 rating system could be regarded as an advance. Morphine pumps were not available for those cancer patients I saw in the ’80s, even those in agonizing pain from cancer in their bones; doctors regarded pain as an inevitable part of disease.

In the emergency room where I practiced in the early ’90s, prescribing even a few opioid pills was a hassle: It required asking the head nurse to unlock a special prescription pad and making a copy for the state agency that tracked prescribing patterns. Regulators (rightly) worried that handing out narcotics would lead to addiction. As a result, some patients in need of relief likely went without.

After pain doctors and opioid manufacturers campaigned for broader use of opioids — claiming that newer forms were not addictive, or much less so than previous incarnations — prescribing the drugs became far easier and were promoted for all kinds of pain, whether from knee arthritis or back problems.

Assessing Pain as Vital Sign

As a young doctor joining the “pain revolution,” I probably asked patients thousands of times to rate their pain on a scale of zero to 10 and wrote many scripts each week for pain medication, as monitoring “the fifth vital sign” quickly became routine in the medical system. In time, a zero-to-10 pain measurement became a necessary box to fill in electronic medical records.

The Joint Commission on the Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations made regularly assessing pain a prerequisite for medical centers receiving federal health care dollars. Medical groups added treatment of pain to their list of patient rights, and satisfaction with pain treatment became a component of post-visit patient surveys. (A poor showing could mean lower reimbursement from some insurers.)

But this approach to pain management had clear drawbacks. Studies accumulated showing that measuring patients’ pain didn’t result in better pain control. Doctors showed little interest in or didn’t know how to respond to the recorded answer. And patients’ satisfaction with their doctors’ discussion of pain didn’t necessarily mean they got adequate treatment.

At the same time, the drugs were fueling the growing opioid epidemic. Research showed that an estimated 3% to 19% of people who received a prescription for pain medication from a doctor developed an addiction. Doctors who wanted to treat pain had few other options, though.

“We had a good sense that these drugs weren’t the only way to manage pain,” Linda Porter, director of the National Institutes of Health’s Office of Pain Policy and Planning, told me. “But we didn’t have a good understanding of the complexity or alternatives.”

The enthusiasm for narcotics left many varietals of pain underexplored and undertreated for years. Only in 2018, a year when nearly 50,000 Americans died of an overdose, did Congress start funding a program — the Early Phase Pain Investigation Clinical Network, or EPPIC-Net — designed to explore types of pain and find better solutions. The network connects specialists at 12 academic specialized clinical centers and is meant to jump-start new research in the field and find bespoke solutions for different kinds of pain.

A zero-to-10 scale may make sense in certain situations, such as when a nurse uses it to adjust a medication dose for a patient hospitalized after surgery or an accident. And researchers and pain specialists have tried to create better rating tools — dozens, in fact, none of which was adequate to capture pain’s complexity, a European panel of experts concluded.

The Veterans Health Administration, for instance, created one that had supplemental questions and visual prompts: A rating of 5 correlated with a frown and a pain level that “interrupts some activities.” The survey took much longer to administer and produced results that were no better than the zero-to-10 system.

By the 2010s, many medical organizations, including the American Medical Association and the American Academy of Family Physicians, were rejecting not just the zero-to-10 scale but the entire notion that pain could be meaningfully self-reported numerically by a patient.

In the years that opioids had dominated pain remedies, a few drugs — such as gabapentin and pregabalin for neuropathy, and lidocaine patches and creams for musculoskeletal aches — had become available.

“There was a growing awareness of the incredible complexity of pain — that you would have to find the right drugs for the right patients,” Rebecca Hommer, EPPIC-Net’s interim director, told me.

Researchers are now looking for biomarkers associated with different kinds of pain so that drug studies can use more objective measures to assess the medications’ effect. A better understanding of the neural pathways and neurotransmitters that create different types of pain could also help researchers design drugs to interrupt and tame them.

Any treatments that come out of this research are unlikely to be blockbusters like opioids; by design, they will be useful to fewer people. That also makes them less appealing prospects to drug companies.

So EPPIC-Net is helping small drug companies, academics, and even individual doctors design and conduct early-stage trials to test the safety and efficacy of promising pain-taming molecules. That information will be handed over to drug manufacturers for late-stage trials, all with the aim of getting new drugs approved by the FDA more quickly.

The first EPPIC-Net trials are just getting underway. Finding better treatments will be no easy task, because the nervous system is a largely unexplored universe of molecules, cells, and electronic connections that interact in countless ways.

The 2021 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine went to scientists who discovered the mechanisms that allow us to feel the most basic sensations: cold and hot. In comparison, pain is a hydra. A simple number might feel definitive. But it’s not helping anyone make the pain go away.

Elisabeth Rosenthal, MD, is Editor-in-Chief of KFF Health News. She worked as an emergency room physician before becoming a journalist. KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. 

Rejecting Purdue Pharma’s Bankruptcy Plan Harms Pain Patients, Again

By Crystal Lindell

Turns out the family behind Purdue Pharma wasn’t always acting on the up and up when it came to their money — a revelation that surprises almost no one. But a recent Supreme Court decision punishing them for that has the potential to prolong — and even cause — more suffering for millions of pain patients.

In short, last week the Supreme Court ruled 5-4 that it was wrong for the Sackler family, which owns Purdue, to essentially try to shield some of their money through bankruptcy proceedings. Under a proposed bankruptcy plan, Purdue agreed to settle a massive lawsuit over the fraudulent marketing of the opioid medication OxyContin, which they claimed was less addictive than other opioids.

Specifically, according to an NPR article about the decision, "The ruling upended a carefully-crafted settlement worth roughly $8 billion… (for) all the individuals, states and local governments that had sued over harms from the opioid epidemic.”

The high court’s ruling means the Sackler family is now open to more lawsuits against it, and that some of the previously decided opioid cases could now be re-opened. That’s not just bad for those slated to receive money from those lawsuits, it’s also bad for pain patients. Continuing the opioid lawsuits will only perpetuate the anti-opioid zealotry that’s infiltrated the medical community.

To be honest, on a broad level, I kind of agree with the Supreme Court. If you lose or settle a lawsuit, you should not be able to move your money around by filing for bankruptcy to shield it. The problem I have with the ruling is that it is only going to serve to prolong the failed and harmful strategy of trying to solve opioid-related problems with lawsuits.

The lawsuits are especially damaging because they perpetuate the myth that the biggest sin Purdue committed in regard to OxyContin was claiming the medication wasn’t as addictive as other opioids.

That myth is even referenced on in the Supreme Court opinion:

“Because of the addictive quality of opioids, doctors had traditionally reserved their use for cancer patients and those ‘with chronic diseases.’ But OxyContin, Purdue claimed, had a novel ‘time-release’ formula that greatly diminished the threat of addiction. On that basis, Purdue marketed OxyContin for use in ‘a much broader range’ of applications, including as a ‘first-line therapy for the treatment of arthritis.’”

However, as a pain patient myself, and also as a former OxyContin user, I am here to tell you the truth: Purdue’s biggest sin wasn’t lying about how addictive OxyContin was. No, Purdue’s biggest sin was that they claimed that OxyContin time-released pills lasted 12 hours. In reality they only last about 4-6 hours.

Don’t take my word for it though. The Los Angeles Times reported the same thing in 2016.

“The drugmaker Purdue Pharma launched OxyContin two decades ago with a bold marketing claim: One dose relieves pain for 12 hours, more than twice as long as generic medications… [But] the drug wears off hours early in many people,” the Times said.

Purdue’s lie meant that thousands of patients were not prescribed enough pills to get through the day or the month, leading to two likely outcomes.

In one scenario, patients took an OxyContin when their last one wore off, and then ran out of their medication days or even weeks before their next refill date. They then faced the impossible choice of debilitating withdrawal or seeking medication on the black market.

The second scenario is that they took the medication as prescribed, only every 12 hours, and that meant they went through daily cycles of short bursts of pain relief followed by hours of pain while they wait for their next dose.

The Times also reported that Purdue was very aware of these possible problems, but wanted to maintain the lie that OxyContin lasted 12 hours to make it stand apart from less expensive opioids.  Purdue told doctors to stick to the 12-hour dosing schedule and to prescribe stronger doses if patients complained.  

Here’s the thing, the way to fix the real lie -- about how long the pills last -- is to give patients more opioids, not fewer. So instead of prescribing two 10mg OxyContin per day, the doctor should prescribe four to six 10mg OxyContin per day.

Unfortunately, that is not the lesson doctors learned from OxyContin and the opioid lawsuits. Instead, doctors decided the best solution was to minimize prescribing any opioids to any patient.  As long as these lawsuits continue, medical professionals and law enforcement will be flooded with even more propaganda about how the best way to save lives is to limit opioids.

Maybe one day, we will finally realize just how damaging it has been to make people suffer needlessly by limiting opioid prescriptions. But I fear that as long as the opioid lawsuits continue, that day will be pushed further and further out into the future.

Patients know firsthand that these lawsuits have made many doctors and pharmacists scared of prescribing opioids, even for post-op pain. But opioids are still the only effective treatment for many painful conditions. This leaves patients to languish in suffering or resort to the black market for needed relief.

We could do better than that though. We could actually help people.

A Pained Life: Stop the Denial

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

For many of us, pain is sporadic. Sometimes we know exactly when it will be start or what will set it off. Other times, it may hit spontaneously.

When my trigeminal neuralgia pain started in 1976, it was constant, triggered and spontaneous. Now it can be triggered by any touch to the affected area. Or it can come out of the blue.

When I don’t have pain, it often lulls me into denial. I’ll think, “Hey, I'm okay!” Denial is one of my defense mechanisms. I don't have the pain right now, so I won't have it. 

And then, like a freight train bearing down on me, the pain hits. That's when the denial ends. Sometimes it takes only a few minutes to recover, sometimes much longer.

Denial of pain also comes from friends, colleagues or family. It often results in an argument or anger. Does that change their denial? Not often.

Is it worth the hurt and emotional pain when we try to change their minds, when we try to convince them of the reality of our pain? Again, not often.

Many of us have had medical professionals refuse to accept our pain. Years ago, I found this note in my neurologist's chart: “There are days like today when I believe in her pain.”

It wasn't his to believe in or not. If he chose not to believe me, then the remedy was simple. Fire me as a patient. It is not worth debating with a doctor about the existence of our pain.  

A big pain trigger for me is eye movement. Any eye usage causes pain. I can read, sometimes for as long as 20 minutes, before the pain starts yelling at me and I am forced to put the book away.  

Too many times I don't want to give in to the pain. Just one more paragraph, I’ll think, or at least a sentence. If I try to deny the pain and continue to read, it grows stronger, bigger, a green hulk of pain.  

Then I have no choice. I fling the book away and wait, sometimes for hours, for the pain to subside to a tolerable level. I could have stopped the pain. I could have taken control over it. All I had to do was accept that I can't read for as long as I want. But, like a food addict, the pleasure I get from reading overwhelms my common sense.

For those of us struggling to stop denying the pain when we know we should, the denial only adds to our battle. We call ourselves “survivors” or “victims.” Those are words of war.

For me, the war isn’t over. If and when I win, I'll stop the denial. 

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here. 

Work Comp Claims for Opioids Down Significantly

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Workers’ compensation claims in the U.S. for opioids and other pain relievers fell significantly in 2023, one of the largest drops the work comp industry has seen in years, according to a new report.

San Diego-based Enlyte analyzes drug utilization and spending trends annually for property and casualty insurers. The company’s Drug Trends Report for 2023 estimates that overall opioid use per claim fell by 9.7 percent, with the use of sustained-release opioids such as oxycodone down more than 10 percent.

Surprisingly, work comp claims for non-opioid pain relievers also fell, even though they are increasingly prescribed as alternatives to opioids. Claims for non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) fell by 3% last year, with anticonvulsants like gabapentin down 7.4% and antidepressants such as duloxetine falling 6.1%. 

"This, by far, marks one of the largest drops in opioid utilization we've seen in years," Nikki Wilson, PharmD, senior director of clinical pharmacy solutions at Enlyte, said in a press release. "In addition, opioid alternatives commonly prescribed to manage acute and chronic pain also experienced decreases in utilization per claim, although to a lesser degree than opioids."

Enlyte said the decline in opioid use was “supported by prescribing guidelines,” noting that claims for high-dose opioid prescriptions have fallen for nine consecutive years. The 2016 CDC opioid guideline urged doctors not to prescribe doses higher than 90 morphine milligram equivalents (MME) per day. Although that recommendation is voluntary, it has taken root in many laws, regulations and insurance policies governing the use of opioids.

As a result, non-opioid analgesics and muscle relaxants are used more often than opioids for pain management during the first two years of a work comp claim. Only afterwards are sustained-release opioids used more frequently for chronic pain caused by job-related injuries.

Even though opioid use has fallen dramatically in recent years, opioids remain the top therapeutic class for claims, followed by NSAIDs, anticonvulsants, muscle relaxants, antidepressants and topical medications. Those six therapeutic classes represent over two-thirds of the prescription drug claims in 2023.

Respiratory and Migraine Drugs  

While the overall cost of prescription drugs fell slightly (down 0.2%) in 2023, the price of respiratory and migraine medications rose significantly, up 14.7% and 10.2%, respectively.

Newer migraine drugs that block calcitonin gene-related peptides (CGRPs) are some of the most expensive medications, with the average wholesale price of a Nurtec prescription reaching $1,916 and $1,654 for a Ubrelvy prescription.      

"Basically, what's driving these trends are the costs of the top three medications in their respective classes," Wilson said. "For instance, for migraine medications, Nurtec ODT is prescribed about 15% of the time yet makes up more than 31% of the total drug spend in this category. Similarly, respiratory medication like Trelegy Ellipta is prescribed about 10%, but accounts for nearly 19% of all respiratory medication total costs."

Enlyte reported the number of retail and mail order prescription drug claims is trending downward due to an “evolving work environment.” More people are working from home and as independent contractors, reducing the number of on-site job injuries and employee compensation claims.  

Painful Choices About a Safe Space

By Cynthia Toussaint, PNN Columnist

It’s no secret. For me, there’s no better medicine than self-care.

To that point, I’m a proud member of my local YMCA. In fact, it’s been my ultimate safe-space for 15 years: around the block, accessible, a generous lap swimming pool, topped by a loving community of warm and caring people. A lot of perfect for someone who can’t walk a block due to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, but can swim a mile.

To give back some, I’ve done quite a bit of fundraising to provide low-cost memberships for families in need, and landed one of the Y’s aquatic teachers a national ABC News print piece, the angle being the benefits of pool therapy for women in pain as I believe devotedly in the healing power of water.

All was going swimmingly, until COVID. When we returned in mid-2021, my heart sank when I spied a new member, Annie, who I sensed was going to be trouble with a capital T. What little lap swimming she did was overwhelmed by her excessive yelling and joke-telling mid-pool with the lifeguard.

Day after day, I became increasingly stressed while others rolled their eyes and donned ear plugs. To make matters worse, Annie soon blew past personal boundaries by jumping in on my conversations, often physically pulling friends away from me. My place of serenity was turning into a high-decibel scrum.      

CYNTHIA TOUSSAINT

It dawned on me that what was driving Annie’s aberrant behavior was a boatload of childhood trauma. She was deregulated and manic, showing earmarks of a deeply wounded woman. Annie flouted pool rules by wearing inappropriate, oversexualized swimwear (shorts and a braless t-shirt) with no cap for her long, black locks.

In one of the few encounters with Annie before things went south, she boasted about freezing her brother out, emphasizing all the legal folk he had to circumvent to get to her. Annie’s cackle as an exclamation point, her pure joy of hurting another person, was darkly disturbing.                     

One day, out of the blue, a deep freeze set in as Annie began avoiding me. This was terribly awkward, compounded by the Y pool and dressing room being an intimate place where everyone knows everyone’s business. I continued basic pleasantries until Annie yelled me down for doing so.

Next day, in an attempt to fix things, I asked Annie if I’d done something to offend her. Without looking my way, she briskly responded, “No, nothing’s wrong. We’re fine.” But I knew better.

Bad turned to worse when, at that point, Annie completely shut me out. It was as though I didn’t exist as she avoided eye contact altogether. This tactic was deeply uncomfortable and hurtful as she appeared to be in good standing, even sweet, with others. 

Due to Annie’s puzzling cruelty, I started dreading going to my “safe space.” My lower-body pain amp’d and my nervous system was in fight or flight mode before I’d head out to the Y. Even my anticipation the day prior was becoming unhealthy, and I often woke in the night with worry.

Because I couldn’t bear to lose my beloved pool and community, I went to a therapist whose assessment provided strong insight. She suspected Annie was “negatively transferring,” meaning that because I remind her of an abusive person in her childhood, she’s delusional about my power over her. My psychologist advised that this is a targeted psychotic process and, for safety sake, I swim elsewhere.  My close friends seconded that emotion. 

With heavy heart, I tried other Ys and fitness centers. In the end though, none of them worked because of my pain and limitations, e.g., I had to use my wheelchair to get to the pool, there were no exit stairs, and/or my partner and caregiver John couldn’t run necessary errands because we were far from home.

When I fearfully returned to my now toxic Y, John accompanied me in the pool to rehab an injury and offer support in the event of an encounter. Annie’s behavior immediately escalated when she spread a nasty rumor about me to a fellow swimmer who I adore. Zoe shared the gossip out of concern for my well-being, along with being disturbed by the grim energy now shrouding our community.

Before entering the pool the next day, Annie yelled at me twice and, for the first time, physically threatened me by raising her hand to my face. That was it. I went to member relations and made a thorough complaint. Luckily, Zoe, who’d witnessed the happenings, made one as well.

Fortunately, since the Y spoke to Annie, her behavior has simmered. While still avoiding conversation and eye contact, she’s not threatening me, though I’m aware her anger’s just below the surface. Better, but far from okay. What was once heavenly, now casts a pall.

If I was a fully functional person without high-impact pain, I’d have left this Y many moons ago and created a healthy community elsewhere. But because of limitations and specific needs, my only choice is to tolerate an unsafe, dysfunctional situation, to make the best of a bad.

Let’s face it. My choice was really no choice. And that’s the way it is with folk hammered by pain and disability. Pickings are slim and the best solutions are generally the ones that are physically do-able. This not only applies to our places of exercise and community, but also where we live, shop and work. Really, everything we do.   

But let’s not let a bully bury the lead. Come hell or high water, I’m continuing to swim, which is one of the best self-care cards I hold. And when it comes to wrangling with the pitfalls of pain and chronic illness, holding onto what health we can maintain and preserve, is always our best choice.               

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 multiple 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.”

Living on False Hope

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

I live on false hope. I think hope is what keeps many of us afloat. And when the medical community tells you, “I have nothing left to offer you,” false hope is all there is.

And then I open my email, and there is a story in KevinMD, a medical site that I trust. It’s about using ultrasound as a treatment for pain. My heart soars with anticipation. Maybe, maybe this time, the answer has arrived.

The headline, “Ultrasound shows promise as new pain treatment, targeting a specific brain region,” sets off a specific area of my brain. I feel the false hope lifting and true hope taking its place.

And then I read the article.

Just like too many other studies I have read, this is not research that can be applicable to many people. The researchers only used a sample population of 23 people. That is just too small a number to extrapolate out to the larger pain community.

I have had many brain surgeries for my trigeminal neuralgia, so I'm not put off by a treatment that targets the brain. But the author of the article wonders if stimulating areas of the brain with ultrasound could be used for nefarious purposes, such as torture. 

I was going to do research to see what other new ideas and treatments are out there. Then I realized I didn’t really want to know, because most of the research doesn’t pan out or involves too few people to take it seriously.

I want to read about research involving enough participants that there is real hope in what they found. A study that uses a large number of people and with results so positive that it may be a realistic treatment option.

So far, I haven’t seen that. I know the pharmaceutical industry is working on non-opioid pain relievers, but I think the better way to go would be to find something that minimizes our pain. I'm afraid there may be no way to ever truly eradicate many painful conditions. 

Until I find a study involving hundreds or thousands of participants using a new pain treatment that actually works, is affordable, and has few side effects, I suppose false hope is better than none. 

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here. 

Does Netflix Trivialize Pain?

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Movies and TV shows have long been criticized for the way they depict women, minorities and religions -- either through sensationalism, stereotyped portrayals, or simply omission.

A new analysis of popular programs that aired on Netflix suggests that physical pain is also being ignored, trivialized, or presented in misleading ways.

Researchers in Canada and the UK looked at over a dozen movies and TV series that featured teenage characters. They found that the teens’ pain was almost always the result of violence or accidents – not common medical conditions such as migraine or menstruation. The characters often had minimal reactions to their own pain and observers had “an overwhelming lack of empathy” for them.   

“If we’re not showing the types of pain that adolescents might typically experience like back pain and menstrual pain, then we’re trivializing pain. We’re not doing a great job of enabling them to think about how to manage pain, how to talk about pain and how to show empathy when other people experience pain,” said lead author Abbie Jordan, PhD, a lecturer in the Department of Psychology and Centre for Pain Research at The University of Bath.

“This research matters because if every film and television series shows a boy being a ‘tough guy’ when they experience pain and a girl as a ‘damsel in distress’ in need of saving, they might think they have to be like that in real life. This depiction reinforces old-fashioned ideas about gender and is misleading."

Jordan and her colleagues watched programs such as Sex Education, Stranger Things and Enola Holmes, and found that viewers were exposed to an average of 10 incidents of pain every hour.

The two Netflix shows with the highest number of painful incidents were Outer Banks, a series about teens searching for a hidden treasure, and Spiderman: Homecoming, a movie about a young Peter Parker facing off against a new villain.

Violence (57%) was the most likely cause of pain on the Netflix shows, followed by everyday pain such as headaches (21%) and pain stemming from injuries (20%). Chronic pain or pain resulting from medical procedures were depicted less than one percent of the time.

“‘OUTER BANKS”

Researchers say the Netflix shows often reinforced sexist and patriarchal stereotypes. Boy characters were more likely to experience pain (77%) than girls (23%), and they were also more likely to be criticized or laughed at by other characters. Boys were often portrayed as heroic figures coming to the rescue, while girls were more emotional when reacting to pain.   

The plots and characters are all fictional, but researchers say adolescents watching at home are likely to mirror the behavior themselves.  

“Media is one of the most powerful engines of influence on children’s development and could be harnessed to address pain and suffering in the world. Stories matter. Fictional stories can matter more in some cases than real-life stories. So, let's create stories to reflect the world we want to see: A humane, diverse, inclusive, equitable, compassionate, and caring world,” says co-author Melanie Noel, PhD, an Associate Professor of Clinical Psychology at the University of Calgary.

“I want Netflix to take this seriously and get excited and inspired to directly influence millions of children around the world. They have a monumental opportunity to influence the compassion and humanity we see in our children and our future world.”

The study findings, published in the journal PAIN, echo a previous study that showed pain was trivialized for even younger children (aged 4-6 years). That study also showed that chronic pain in childhood and adolescence was rarely portrayed in popular media.

Keeping Hope Alive

By Mia Maysack, PNN Columnist

In 2022, I was fortunate enough to receive the International Pain Foundation's “Hero of Hope”' award for patient advocacy. I felt and still feel remarkably honored for the recognition, although I am not motivated by any accolade or prestige. I fight for those who can't. I use my voice so others can be heard.

As a patient advocate, I’ve learned the absolute most important thing that I can do is rescue myself – repeatedly. If I don't make it and I'm no longer here, what good can I do or offer to anybody else?

Recently, I've struggled immensely. There have been moments that haven't felt survivable. I sought support, reached out for help, attended therapy, and tried endless lifestyle approaches with little to no progress in how I feel.

It is important for me to express this publicly because I want to drive the point home: An optimistic perspective alone is not enough for survival. You can seek out the bright side, acknowledge how things could always be worse, recognize all your blessings, and be grateful for them -- yet still suffer immensely.

I reached out to someone to vent some of this, in what I'd hoped would be a receptive and safe space. But I was quickly reminded of the extent to which people simply don't know how to navigate others' hardships or struggles.

“I'm having a rough time,” I said.

“Maybe you need to go to counseling,” they replied.

“I tried that again recently. But my medical trauma is extensive. It did not help and actually worsened things for me."

[insert awkward silence here]

"Ordinarily,” I continued, “I’d pour myself into other causes, things, and people. That usually helps, but I am struggling with energy and motivation.”

“Sounds like depression,” they said.

“Depression isn’t new to me,” I explained. “Coping with daily ailments isn’t something that everyone can bear. Depression in these instances occurs by default. It’s an underlying current underneath the symptoms, constantly demanding my attention and effort to accommodate and manage it.”

"I think you need to pour into yourself,” was their reply.

"I have, extensively. But it is as though I'm a cracked cup and it all leaks out,” I said.

[insert another awkward silence]

At this point, I can sense they are uncomfortable, so I rush to ease their pain as mine intensifies. And I’m reminded how there’s just about nowhere for us to turn where we can be adequately received or understood.

“But I will figure it out, I always do,” I declared, tears running down my cheeks.

"Now that's the spirit!” they proclaimed.

I’ve always possessed “spirit” but sometimes it’s not enough. This is why I have such a profound empathy for those who idealize or even follow through on ending life. I see and understand how and to what extent we reach out for help, yet I'm repeatedly reminded that we're ultimately left on our own -- by each other, by our systems, and by society as a whole.

No one wants you to end your existence, yet almost nothing and no one is there to contribute meaningfully to your quality of life.

In observation of this and because I strongly believe in cultivating solutions -- as opposed to fixating on problems – I’m supporting efforts by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention to raise awareness and talk about how we can prevent suicide and increase access to mental healthcare.

The darkness in me honors yours. It's not only okay, but profoundly necessary to allow that part of ourselves to exist out loud. It’s the only way through to the light. 

I imagine a future where we don't have to beg and plead for basic human needs, and we’re no longer alone in attempting to figure it all out.  This vision keeps me going and keeps the fire of hope alive.

Mia Maysack lives with chronic migraine, cluster headache and fibromyalgia. She is a healthcare reform advocate and founder of Keepin’ Our Heads Up, a support network; Peace & Love, a life coaching practice; and Still We Rise, an organization that seeks to alleviate pain of all kinds.

For anyone thinking about suicide, please contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, available online, via chat, or by dialing “988.”  A comprehensive set of resources can also be found at this link.

Naltrexone Shortage Disrupts Addiction Treatment

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

An inexpensive drug used to manage chronic pain and treat substance use disorders has joined the growing list of medications that are in short supply in the United States.

The Food and Drug Administration and the American Society of Health-System Pharmacists (ASHP) both recently added naltrexone tablets to their drug shortage lists. It’s not clear what caused the shortage, but the ASHP says “there is insufficient supply for usual ordering.”  

Naltrexone is FDA-approved to treat both alcohol and opioid use disorder, and is also used off-label in low doses to treat some chronic pain conditions.

In 50mg doses, naltrexone blocks opioid receptors in the brain and reduces cravings for opiates or alcohol. But in smaller doses of 5mg or less, patients have found low-dose naltrexone (LDN) to be an effective pain reliever for interstitial cystitis, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, fibromyalgia, and other painful conditions.

LDN advocates believe the drug modulates the immune system, reduces inflammation and stimulates the production of endorphins, the body's natural painkiller. Because it is an opioid antagonist, naltrexone should not be taken with opioid medication.

So far, the shortage only affects 50mg naltrexone tablets. Pain patients usually obtain LDN by prescription from compounding pharmacies, which make the low dose versions in-house.

Several drug makers are reporting short supplies of 50mg tablets, including Accord Healthcare, Major, Elite Laboratories, SpecGx, Sun Pharma, Tagi Pharma, and Avet Pharmaceuticals. The companies didn’t provide the ASHP with a reason for the shortage, but said the tablets are on back order and would be released when they become available.    

The naltrexone shortage comes at an inopportune time, as more people abused alcohol and other substances during the pandemic and sought treatment. The drug that helps them stay sober is now hard to get.

"People are coming in with more cravings," Dr. Aviva Zohar, an addiction medicine provider, told Philly Voice. "Even the feeling of, 'I don't know when my medicine is coming in,' is a huge struggle. It's horrific (and) causing a lot of stress.”

To make up for the shortage, some providers are giving patients Vivitrol, an injectable, extended-release formulation of naltrexone taken once a month. A single Vivitrol injection costs about $1,700, while a month’s supply of 50mg naltrexone tablets costs about $48.

The cheap price of naltrexone may be responsible for the shortage. Most drugs in short supply are low-cost generics with slim profit margins. Some manufacturers have reduced or stopped making generics because they’re not worth the cost of production or the risk of litigation.   

Three generic opioids commonly taken for pain — immediate-release oxycodone, oxycodone-acetaminophen, and hydrocodone-acetaminophen tablets — have been on the ASHP shortage list for nearly a year, with no end in sight.

Where is CDC’s Guidance About Its Opioid Guideline?

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

By happenstance, I recently came across the CDC's 2022 revised opioid prescribing guideline. Too many doctors and states saw the agency’s original 2016 guideline as being written in stone -- not the voluntary set of recommendations they were intended to be.

To their credit, the CDC tried to address that misconception in its updated guideline:

“Recommendations are voluntary and are intended to support, not supplant, individualized, person-centered care. Flexibility to meet the care needs and the clinical circumstances of a specific patient is paramount.”

The CDC also acknowledged the damage done by its 2016 guideline, when many pain patients were forcibly tapered or cutoff from opioids, regardless of their diagnosis or condition. 

Some patients were abandoned by doctors who no longer wanted to risk going to prison for prescribing opioids. Other physicians retired or closed their offices, sometimes without warning. And several states passed legislation limiting how many days initial opioid prescriptions could be written for.

It is always hard to put the genie back in the bottle. Two years after the revised guideline was released, about 90% of patients still have trouble getting their opioid prescriptions filled at pharmacies. Others have to fight with their insurance company to get opioid medication covered.

Patients are still being forced into withdrawal and disability, despite a history of taking opioids safely and responsibly. Some will have to leave jobs they could only perform with the help of opioids. Others can’t play with their kids, walk the dog or even get out of bed, because they are no longer able to get the medication that helped them lead relatively normal lives.

It should not have taken CDC six years to revise the opioid guideline, to make clear that they were only recommendations and never a mandate.

Is there a way to undo the damage? For the doctors who closed their practices or stopped treating pain, it is probably too late. For the patients who chose suicide because they could no longer get opioids, it is definitely too late

But maybe, just maybe, we can persuade doctors, pharmacists, lawmakers and insurers to take another look at the revised opioid guideline and convince them they are out of line.

It would be helpful if the CDC joined in an effort to fix the mess that it helped create.

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here.