When Pain Comes to Stay (N°3)
Plancemont, August 2005
Frank Grothe
It has been well over 3 years since last I experienced even one moment without pain. Before then, a misplaced hammer swing landing on a fingernail, a headache quickly defeated by swallowing a painkiller or the worst case scenario, gritting my teeth after an operation and toughing it out until I was all healed up again in a few short weeks, basically summarized my run-ins with hurt. The thought of maybe - someday - having to submit to chronic pain never crossed my mind, or only as a fleeting, absolutely inconceivable nightmare.
Well, that nice state of affairs became history when a rare and malicious neuropathy, i.e. a nerve condition, dropped into my life to stay without being invited. The pain first took possession of my toes, slowly, gradually, one after the other. Before long the soles of my feet were also on fire. Next to be invaded were the upper surfaces of my feet. The by then familiar preliminary strange sensations had started climbing my legs, when my doctor (finally) sent me to see the Somatosensory Rehabilitation Center in the Clinique Sainte Anne at Fribourg.
The neurologists in today’s allopathic health system had had no idea what was wrong with me. All of the cortisone, anti-epileptics, anti-depression and immune system drugs, as well as the top-flight painkillers they prescribed did not even put a dent in the pain. But I did have to live with the many unpleasant side affects!
Mr. Spicher and his very competent assistant, Mademoiselle Degrange, were the first people whom I felt actually understood what I was talking about when I said, “Here it hurts strange, like this. And over there it hurts different strange, like that.” Almost all of the other doctors and specialists that had seen me up until then never grasped what I tried to communicate. Some momentarily hummed and clucked in false commiseration; others tried to make me believe it was all in my mind (!), especially when their modern wonder drugs failed to bring alleviation. I felt abandoned by them, alone, misunderstood, trapped in my bubble of pain.
Entering the Centre de rééducation sensitive - Claude Spicher’s domain - for the first time, I must confess to having been a real “doubting Thomas”. “Let’s give’em a chance, but only one,” was my attitude. Disillusioned from past experience, I was going to remain critical on this one. As Spicher and Degrange proceeded with their diagnostic, meticulously mapping out the extent of my suffering with their questionnaires and little plastic prods, the ice started melting in me. They succeeded in what others had been incapable of doing; they defined in a precise fashion the strange and painful sensations assailing my feet for so long. A premier light in the darkness! Not only was the therapeutic staff highly efficient on a technical level, they also showed genuine interest in how I was coping with my suffering on an emotional and psychological level. This sensitivity, this interest in the whole man - the whole picture - was balm to my wounded soul.
Simply being listened to and believed, the feeling of finally being understood in this pain, helped create a real motivation in me to follow through on all of the therapeutic “homework” that was given at the end of each visit to the Fribourg clinic.
Today, 7 months since starting somatosensory rehabilitation, the areas that are afflicted by pain have been reduced to less than 25% of the original surfaces. What is left still hurts a lot, but less than before. The steady debilitating increase in pain that had been mine before has been stopped and the tendency clearly reversed. Hallelujah!
Perhaps the best thing coming out of making the long trip to Saint-Anne’s in Fribourg each week is the rekindling of hope, hope for a partial or, why not, even a complete cure. Thank you!
