Showing posts with label function. Show all posts
Showing posts with label function. Show all posts

Friday, November 16, 2007

Now back to function... Part II

2. UN-clear metaphor

In Part I, I introduced scenarios related to clear metaphors people use to describe pain. I used "icepick" and "fish hook" examples. When someone says they feel like they have a foreign object lodged somewhere, and it's perfectly obvious they don't, the comparison is at least acceptably clear as metaphor, even if the solution to the pain isn't yet clear.

What about if the metaphor used is not about a foreign object, but a body part that truly does exist inside the body? Suddenly comparisons are much less clear. Suddenly structures are blamed for misbehavior that is actually functional. Suddenly something that feels LIKE a "locked joint", becomes in a patient's mind, or in a therapist's mind, or a doctor's mind, a possibly 'real' locked joint. There are a million of these. Examples are, "I must have a bone out of place." "A muscle is cramped in my foot." "This tendon is too short - look". "I was fine until I lifted that couch, then my (whatever) seized up on me."

These are still metaphors, but now the issues the patient feels in the tissues are not clearly metaphoric at all. In fact, there has been nearly perfect reflection of metaphors like these, a verbal and investigative ping pong match of pain memes and memeplexes going on ever since humans have had pain and human primate social groomers have tried to help.

But.

Slowly it has begun to dawn on some of us who are fascinated by all the little tricks of the brain and the habits it has of setting up simulations of reality, that pain is something of a perception itself. A great example is phantom limb pain. This is pain that an amputee feels vividly and to his or her consternation, in the missing limb. It can't be the limb hurting, because the limb no longer exists.

But.

A representation of the limb does exist, in the brain. A brilliant neuroscientist/brain researcher named V.S. Ramachandran figured out that using a mirror box could help. The patient places the remaining limb in the box in a way that creates an illusion of a missing limb being present, and able to move freely. Even though the patient knows full well it's just a mirror image, moving freely and painlessly, some important part of the visual cortex actually will record this information and send it around the brain in such a way that pain is relieved in the "missing limb", the phantom of the missing limb, the virtual body part, the representational map of the part located in the brain. It's as if the brain thinks to itself, hmm, I must have made a mistake. It looks like that part can move ok.. Alrighty then, I'll take out the pain signal.

It gets even more strange - it turns out we all have these maps - everyone has them. And we all can feel pain in them, just as amputees do. Ready for more strangeness? Pain is usually in the brain map part instead of in the actual part. I know - this is where "what everyone knows" bumps into new science. Such apparent heresy! But not so strange if you accept the idea that the brain is a great big simulation producer. It can make you have a pain in a part that is not at all "damaged", just because it senses a threat to that part. Yes, you read that right. Nothing has to have happened to the part for the brain to make a pain in it. From my blogpost of September 4th, "Rhythms of the Brain" by György Buzsáki:
The short punch line of this book is that brains are foretelling devices and their predictive powers emerge from the various rhythms they perpetually generate. At the same time, brain activity can be tuned to become an ideal observer of the environment, due to an organized system of rhythms.

I really want you to know I did not make this up - György Buzsáki wrote an entire book about how this is not just possible but likely.

What can decrease pain? Helping the brain sort, refine, redraw its maps. How? Create an illusion for the brain in regular 4-limbed people in pain that is as powerful as the mirror box is for phantom limb pain. How? Well, movement is the key here. The brain needs to perceive some kind of movement before it can get off the square it is stuck on, pain-wise.

One can create a kinesthetic illusion of movement, through skin stretch. Simon Gandevia is the researcher who came up with this while studying cutaneous receptors. He is a lot less famous than Ramachandran is, but no less important to those of us who work with new ideas on how to pare back erroneous metaphor in our own thinking about pain. True, Simon Gandevia hasn't linked his own research yet to pain relief itself, specifically, but he has provided a huge clue. Putting this clue together with Patrick Wall's idea that pain is a "need state", and that pain relief follows a "consummatory movement", and bearing in mind the success of mirror therapy for pain in limb representations, is it really that hard to draw a line connecting the dots? Treating people who still have all their parts is much easier because you don't need a mirror, you just need to get on their skin and give their brain a movement illusion.

To me, this cuts through all the confusing metaphoric mesodermal tissue based wild goose chases that practitioners go on, led originally by convincing descriptions of pain given to them by patients, which they then go on and foist on other patients, and all of which becomes some version of gravely mistaken treatment orthodoxy. I am fond of saying three things to patients on their first visit:
1. There are people who have things on x-rays like degeneration (etc.) who don't have any pain
2. There are people who have pain, and have no x-ray changes
3. Pain and x-rays (or, pain and body weight, pain and posture, pain and... [etc.]) don't necessarily have anything to do with each other

(Truth is, I'm haunted a bit by all the years I worked as a PT, diligently and inadvertently contributing to peoples' pain experience by choosing wrong words, like, "looks like a disc problem", "Sudek's Atrophy? You'll need to wear this brace to keep your fingers from curling into your palm", "This looks like a tendon rupture", etc etc... I'm haunted by a past filled with thousands of faces of patients who intersected with my life, in pain, with ordinary nervous systems and intact tissue, looking at me as some sort of keyholder of relief for them, me having official human primate social grooming status and license but no key, no clue!- to how to really help them at all, other than temporary accompaniment and a set of protocols on how to get them to move anyway, even if it hurt, social manipulation/motivation. Cheer leader stuff. It makes me cringe nowadays - if I were in a patient's shoes I would want to shoot some kid fresh out of school who had the audacity to think she knew the first thing about what my brain and body were going through. But apparent sincerity and earnestness kept me alive, I suppose... Plus, to be fair to my former self, there was not all this nice research available back then, in the 70's. There is no excuse for continuation of perpetuation of inappropriate metaphor in my profession (or the medical profession) anymore, other than pure ignorance/being too busy to read/relying on the schools to have taught what is necessary to know to do the job. The schools are only just learning about this stuff themselves! It'll be awhile more before they figure out how to do the requisite "knowledge translation".)

Certainly there will be some hips that still need replacing and some knees, and so on, but the pain felt in those parts which have been sacrificed might not be relieved by the sacrifice, might not have been from those 'parts' in the first place!

Does it not make more sense to deal with pain first, provide the simulating brain with a movement illusion, see if it really is cranking out pain for no particularly good reason? If the pain goes away, great! Show the patient a few exercises to keep pain at bay. Another knee or hip or (insert name of structure) saved from sacrifice. If pain doesn't go away/stay away, then think about replacing the part.

Now back to function.. Part I

In the Butler blog is a post about painful words, how they conjure up horrible imaginings in peoples' minds, create needless stress and worsen pain. A comment from a reader of this blog about his knee pain, knee replacement, his surgeon's words reflecting insecurities about not being able to "fix" his patient's pain, and the reader's battle to withdraw from heavy pain meds came to mind immediately.

...I realized after months of difficult recovery from my joint replacement that one of the key things my surgeon said to me was "I am worried about our ability to control your pain". He is a great surgeon, and meant well. But he played directly into strong fears that I had about the surgery already. I obsessed on the idea that my pain might be uncontrollable. I believe that contributed a lot to me winding up on 350 mg per day of oxycodone.
I'm doing much better now and have been off the oxycodone for 5 weeks.


A battle is being fought by a tiny group of people in lots of ways, including through blogs (like this one), comprised of practitioners (myself among them) whose main agenda is to deconstruct pain for the sake of having less of it around perpetuating useless suffering. We are fighting an abstract battle, one of memes: the mindless and needless enticement of persistent pain into permanent suffering, through simple correctable things like word choice. We are trying to change this by presenting, studying, arguing, pointing out current pain science, science which refutes an entire historical mind set not only guilty of permitting needless suffering, but also of giving rise to a professionally reinforced sense of helplessness and avoidable drug use in patients.

There are at least two layers to this:

1. Clear metaphor

Some of the metaphors patients use are easy enough to understand as such: when someone says something like, "It feels as though I have an icepick through my shoulder here and a fish hook stuck in it back here", it's obvious both to them and to the practitioner that they have no such thing really - instead they are explaining how their pain "feels" to them. The practitioner response is often a little smile at the colorful language; if the patient is insistent after a few treatment attempts (based on having diligently tried to find and treat the offending tissue) the practitioner rapidly begins to feel helpless and either refers on or else decides the patient must be crazy with all that icepick talk.

At least three scenarios can ensue from here:

a). With any luck the patient will be referred to a PT who understands pain, and can reassure the patient that perhaps that's really all it amounts to. A few little manual therapy maneuvers, voilá, some cranky neural tissue somewhere in the vicinity has more oxygen, the brain maps all overlap perfectly again, the protective motor reflexes dissolve, needless ion channels vanish, stress is gone, all is well, patient can move the shoulder just fine again. Metaphoric icepick and fishhook are gone as if they had never been there, even as "just" a feeling or sensation that was turned into an image in the patient's mind to help him or her communicate verbally something ineffable like pain that has no words of its own.

b). In scenario two, the patient may be referred for further imaging and possibly surgery. Diligent medical practitioners will diligently look for and usually find some aspect of the patient's body that they decide must be responsible for the pain, and will schedule a surgical intervention. They may be referred before or after to a PT who closely follows the medical tissue-based model for pain. The PT will do all sorts of things to try to help, but if their word choice is not careful, they will merely reinforce pain while trying to get the patient to do all sorts of activities in spite of the pain.

c). In scenario three, the patient is referred to a psychiatrist.


Stay tuned for Part II, Unclear metaphor.