Six old papers for pain clinicians


We’re rather flighty beasts, us clinicians. From looking at the various ads for courses on the interwebs, it seems we’re all ready to jump on to the next newest thing. This same “what’s new” attitude is present in journals as well –  “these references are very old, are there newer ones you can use?”

Here’s a question: what happens to the old stuff? Is it outdated and useless? Do really well-conducted studies have a “use-by” date? Are older therapies always less effective than the new ones? What if this urge to “refresh” means we do actually throw the baby out with the bathwater?

Some of you will know that I’m keen on reading about the history of how we manage pain. I think it helps put some of our current dilemmas into perspective – and helps us understand “legacy” beliefs: things people believe based on old ideas about how our body works. It reminds me that some of these problems are not about research evidence, but about very human issues of political clout, social inertia, and legal factors (thinking of my recent post on the ” Dynasty of the Disc“.

So, today I want to talk about reading old papers. Papers written maybe in the 1960’s or 1970’s, 1980’s and 1990’s. Even from 2000 and on!

Here are some papers I think everyone working in pain and pain management should review:

  1. Melzack, R., & Wall, P. D. (1965). Pain mechanisms: a new theory. Science, 150(3699), 971-979.

The original paper, the one that ignited new ways of thinking about pain. Not a very long paper, and yes, many of the details proposed in this paper have been revised in light of new information, but the essential groundbreaking principles, distinguishing between nociception and pain, between peripheral and central mechanisms, of the modulation that occurs at every single synapse to and from the brain, of the need for us to consider OMG the brain!  This is the bit that really grabs my attention: 2. Fordyce, W. E., Fowler, R. S., & Delateur, B. (1968). An Application of Behavior Modification Technique to a Problem of Chronic Pain. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 6(1), 105-107.

This is the original paper by Fordyce and colleagues, demonstrating that by following the principles of operant conditioning, a person with persistent and disabling pain could return to daily life. It was extraordinary in that instead of focusing on pain – it focused on behaviour. Fantastic description of behaviour therapy in action.

3. Fordyce, W. E. (1988). Pain and Suffering: A Reappraisal. American Psychologist, 43(4), 276-283.  This is another paper by Fordyce, this time discussing distinctions between pain and suffering – he clearly articulates Loeser’s “onion rings” model which has been reproduced, revised, and possibly warped out of shape in various papers since (do a Google search and see what you can find!).

4. Engel, G. L. (1977). The need for a new medical model: A challenge for biomedicine. Science, 196(4286), 129-136. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1126/science.847460 The classic Engel paper, written for a psychiatry audience but with a far far wider impact on healthcare since. It’s really useful to read how Engel put this model together, the context at the time, and his ideas for how it might be used. The part that really gets me is how he considers the path from being a person to being a patient – that decision-making process to seek treatment which is rarely discussed (but is, I think, a crucial indicator of the expectations the person brings to a consultation)

5. Ignelzi, R. J., Sternbach, R. A., & Timmermans, G. (1977). The pain ward follow-up analyses. Pain, 3(3), 277-280. This paper is one of the very first to show that surgical approaches to pain management don’t provide the most wonderful outcomes, at least not in comparison with those who were participants in a pain management programme. I think it’s interesting because it shows the use of long term follow-up data to demonstrate effectiveness. Who would have thought two and three year outcomes would show such differences? And I wonder what would happen today?

6. I couldn’t resist this one: Fordyce, W., McMahon, R., Rainwater, G., Jackins, S., Questad, K., Murphy, T., & De Lateur, B. (1981). Pain complaint-exercise performance relationship in chronic pain. Pain, 10(3), 311-321. Why? Because as far back as 1981 we were seeing that advice to stop doing, or to use pain as a guide, was unhelpful. Perhaps it’s time we took this one on board?

There. Old papers. Old messages – perhaps ones we have still to adopt. Can we do better? Shouldn’t we do better? Should we stop trying to create new and groovy stuff and instead implement some of these really old principles?

 

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Myths about exposure therapy


Exposure therapy is an effective approach for pain-related anxiety, fear and avoidance, but exposure therapy is used less often than other evidence-based treatments, there is a great deal of confusion about graded exposure, and when it is used, it is not always well-conducted. It’s not a treatment to be used by every therapist – some of us need to challenge our own beliefs about pain, and whether it’s OK to go “into” the pain a little, or even slightly increase pain temporarily!

Below are some common misconceptions and suggestions for how to overcome them:

Misconception: Exposure therapy causes clients undue distress and has adverse consequences.

Suggestions: Although exposure therapy can lead to temporary increases in anxiety and pain, it is important to remember that these symptoms are not dangerous, and that exposure is generally carried out in a very gradual and predictable way. Exposure very rarely causes clients harm, but it is important to know your clients’ medical histories. For example, a client with a respiratory condition would not be asked to complete an exposure designed to elicit hyperventilation.

I usually begin with a really clear explanation for using this approach, basing my explanation on what the person has already said to me. By using Socratic or guided discovery, I try to understand the logic behind the person’s fear: what is it the person is most worried about? Often it’s not hurt or harm, it’s worrying that they won’t sleep, or they’ll have a flare-up that will last a looooong time – and they won’t be able to handle it. These are fundamental fears about having pain and vital to work through if the person is going to need to live with persistent pain for any length of time.

Once I’ve understood the person’s reasons for being bothered by the movements and pain, then I work on developing some coping strategies. These must be carefully carried out because it’s so easy to inadvertently coach people into using “safety behaviours” or “cues” that work to limit their contact with the full experience. Things like breath control, positive self-statements, any special ways of moving, or even ways of recovering after completing the task may serve to control or reduce contact with both anxiety and pain. I typically draw on mindfulness because it helps people focus on what IS happening, not what may have happened in the past – or may happen in the future. By really noticing what comes up before, during and after a graded exposure task, and being willing to experience them as they are, people can recognise that anticipating what might happen is often far worse than what does happen.

Finally, I’ll work through the scenario’s – either pictures of movements and activities, or descriptions of the same things. I prefer photographs (based on the Photographs of Daily Activity), because these elicit all the contextual details such as the other people, weather, flooring or surface and so on that are often factors increasing a person’s concerns. We begin with the activity that least bothers the person and consistently work up from there, with practice in the real world between sessions. I’ll go out to the places the person is most concerned about, we’ll do it together at first, then the person can carry on by themselves afterwards.

Misconception: Exposure therapy undermines the therapeutic relationship and leads to high dropout.

Suggestions: If you give your person a clear reason for using this approach and deliver it well,  the person is more likely to achieve success – and this in turn strengthens your relationship. Additionally, there is evidence that dropout rates for exposure are comparable to other treatments.

There is something about achieving a difficult thing that bonds us humans, and if you approach graded exposure with compassion, curiosity, and celebration, you may find your relationship is far more rewarding and deeper than if you simply prescribe the same old same old.

Misconception: Exposure therapy can lead to lawsuits against therapists.

Suggestions: Survey data suggest that lawsuits against therapists using exposure are extremely rare. As with any kind of therapy, you can take several steps to protect yourself from a legal standpoint. Don’t forget to obtain informed consent, ensure your treatment is delivered with competency, professionalism, and ethical consideration.

The best book/resource by far for graded exposure is Pain-Related Fear: Exposure-Based Treatment for Chronic Pain, (click) by Johan W.S. Vlaeyen, Stephen J. Morley, Steven J. Linton, Katja Boersma, and Jeroen de Jong.

Before you begin carrying out this kind of treatment, check you have these skills (from the book I’ve referenced):

Vlaeyen, Johan, Morley, Stephen, Linton, Steven, Boersma, Katja, & de Jong, Jeroen. (2012a). Pain-related Fear. Seattle: IASP Press.

What it means to be a therapist


I wrote the following response to a discussion held recently on a Facebook group Exploring Pain Science – about the term “catastrophising”. It’s a term that elicits great anger and frustration from people living with persistent pain, and I see the term used poorly by clinicians as a judgement about another’s experience. There’s certainly plenty of research showing relationships between high levels of “thinking the worst” about pain, and poorer outcomes – but HOW we as clinicians respond to someone in distress may be more of a problem than the act of a person describing their fears and worries about the future. This is what I wrote:

I’ve been pondering – I think I see people as doing the absolute best they can to make the best decisions they can based on what they know at the time. And “knowing” means all the messy uncertainty, lack of logic, emotion and coercion from others! So whatever a person is doing to manage is the best they can do. All I can do is offer some options that I’ve seen other people use, maybe provide some more information, maybe even more accurate information, support people to be guided by what they see as important (usually values), and be there for them as they make their own minds up about what to do next. I’m a cheerleader, encyclopaedia, visualiser (lay out the options in a way that makes sense), perhaps a guide but only in so far as helping people notice things they hadn’t before.

To me, if someone is thinking the worst, it could be that they don’t have all the information about their resilience that they need, it might be misinformation about what’s happening in their body, it could be conclusions that over-estimate the threat and under-estimate resilience. It might also be difficulty pulling the mind away from sticky thoughts that stop clear thinking, or as one researcher called it “misdirected problem solving” – a way for the mind to remind the person that there’s an unresolved situation. It might also be feelings of helplessness, feeling like there is no point in trying anything new because nothing works anyway, a sense of not having enough energy to keep trying…

Those aren’t necessarily inaccurate thoughts, but they’re certainly not helpful thoughts, especially at 3.00am! So temporarily at least it seems helpful to bear witness to that person’s distress, to make room to be present, not to judge or dismiss but to allow those worst fears to be recognised. Sometimes bringing the worst fears out into the light shows that they can be managed better than expected, sometimes they fade into nothing, and sometimes they allow someone else to be there and support when the person’s run out of puff.

While I can understand how the language of uninvolved clinicians hurts because so often they fail to acknowledge the real distress of the person, I can still recognise that many of the contents of thoughts and beliefs won’t happen, – those scenarios are there wanting recognition, but they may not happen. If they do there will be things to do then – but mostly, when I catastrophise, I use it as energy to recognise how lacking I feel. And that’s not a nice place to be, but it’s simultaneously true (I lack) and untrue (others have what I need).

There’s a process I use for myself called creative catastrophising. I write down my worst fears, get them out on paper, make them visible. Sometimes that’s all I need to do. Other times I begin planning “what if X disaster happened, what would I do” – and when I’m in the right frame of mind, I can figure out a way to get by. I can’t tell anyone else to do that – but it’s a strategy that’s stood me in good stead as I’ve gone through the ups and downs of my life. It’s one way I cope.

Clinicians, if you can bear witness to another’s distress, without wanting to change, fix, judge or DO anything apart from being fully present, you’ll be doing the very best thing you can. The time for doing something “to help” is just around the corner – whatever you do, do NOT tell the person “you’re catastrophising” because this immediately means you’ve moved from being with to judging.

The dynasty of the disc! More history in pain management


Low back pain, despite the multitude of explanations and increasing disability associated with it, has been with humans since forever. Who knows why and I’m not about to conjecture. What’s interesting is that despite ergonomic solutions (fail), increased fitness amongst many people (also a fail), surgical solutions (fail), hands on solutions (fail, fail), and a whole bunch of “special” exercises (fail, fail, fail) we still don’t have a handle on how to reduce disability from it.

I don’t think there will be many people who haven’t seen this:
I’ve never quite worked out why, when you search for imagines of disc bulges (or rather, prolapse of the nucleus pulposus – herniated or ruptured disc was the term preferred by Mixter and Ayer (1935) who proposed the notion of disc prolapse being the cause of “injuries to the spine” (Allan & Waddell, 1989), you end up with these nasty red glowing areas (see below). I think it’s because how else do you convey the idea that this is meant to be “the source of pain”.

Let’s dig back a little into history. Allan and Waddell (1989) describe the “modern” concept of the disc based on four papers: Goldthwaite (1911); Middleton & Teacher (1911); Dandy (1929) and Mixter and Barr (1934). Pathologists had described the presence of these prolapses when conducting postmortem examinations – but their patients couldn’t tell them whether they hurt, and neither was there any clinical awareness of any relationship between pain and disc prolapse. In 1911, two papers described patients with massive disc prolapses – one was a fatal case of paraplegia after a disc prolapse followed by Middleton and Teacher conducting lab experiments to see whether injury (force applied to the disc) could produce a prolapse (Middleton & Teacher, 1911). Goldthwaite described a case of paresis (not pain) after manipulation of the back, presuming that a “displaced sacroiliac joint” was responsible and identified that the nerve at the lumbosacral joint could be compressed – this was supported by later authors.

Cushing, a surgeon, performed a laminectomy which didn’t turn out well – but identified that “narrowing of the canal” might be responsible for the person’s pain, and from there the disc was blamed as the cause of “many cases of lumbago, sciatica and paraplegia”.  This narrative was followed up by other clinicians, and Mixter and Barr (1934) increased the attention given to these theories. Ultimately this led to a meeting of the minds where Mixter and Barr (Mixter being a neurologist, Barr an orthopaedic surgeon) carried out an investigation into enchondromas and and normal discs. What were thought to be tumours were mainly “normal cartilage”.  Mixter and Ayer (1935) went on to pursue the idea of disc prolapse being involved in not only cases where neurological changes were evident, but also low back pain.

Mixter and Ayer (1935) found that surgical responses were not very good – while leg pain was fixed patients still complained of a painful back. Their paper, however, emphasised that lesions of the disc were caused by “trauma” (even though history of even minor trauma was only found in 14 of their 23 cases). Canny men that they were, they noted that if trauma was involved it would “open up an interesting problem in industrial medicine”: who caused the trauma?

Well, like many ideas of the time, this one took root in an exciting climate of medical and surgical discovery – detailed descriptions of the techniques and procedures used were published, but even at that time outcome measures were not reported because, in their words “the question of liability, compensation and insurance loom large on the horizon and add complications compounded to an already knotty problem”. The meme of physical trauma to the back causing disc prolapse and subsequent back pain caught hold of the imagination, and although initially diagnosed using a myelogram, very quickly became replaced (in the name of avoiding complications, cost, discomfort and potentially missing ‘concealed’ discs) by clinical history and neurological examination.

Over the years 1930 – 1950, anaesthetics and surgery became safer and more routine – and accepted, after all look at how these surgeons patched up the brave soldiers! But by the 1970’s the enthusiasm began to wane as more patients reported adverse outcomes, and continued to experience pain.  So… it was decided disc prolapses should only be surgically managed in the case of sciatica rather than simply low back pain – but what about disc degeneration? Surely that could be the “cause”! And yes, we know that even though normal age-related changes were present, these were ignored, along with the somewhat tenuous relationship between disc changes and pain… Instead cadaver biomechanical studies were used to confirm that the disc could bulge with certain forces, and because the problem was now “degenerative” there was no cure – it would ‘inevitably’ progress. Thus the surgical fusion was brought in to play to reduce the “wear and tear” on the disc to “stabilise” the joint (though instability hadn’t been found, and fusion didn’t produce great results).

What was really striking was the move during this period towards rest as treatment. Previously bonesetters (predecessors of osteopathy and chiropractic and manual medicine) manipulated and then quickly mobilised people with low back pain. The hands-on treatment provided short-term relief but the real cure was to keep doing. Orthopaedics, however, based both on knowledge of fracture and tissue healing and ongoing use of surgery for low back pain, emphasised rest to allow “inflammation” to heal. Whether there was any inflammation is moot – what took root in the minds of medical and other practitioners was the need to rest until the pain was gone.

And that, dear ones, is how the epidemic of disability (the effect on function, limitations on what people can do, on participation) was born. It’s called iatrogenesis, or what health professionals can do to increase harm, inadvertently or not. And it’s still happening today.

We should not lay the blame for ongoing harm at the feet of orthopaedic surgeons and neurologists of the day. It was a perfect storm of media attention, community fascination with technology and miracles performed as a result of the war, the heroic soldiers and their equally heroic surgeons, the courts (in the case of industry as responsible for trauma to civilians), and of course the insurers – all over the period between 1880 – and until even today.  While outcomes are being more widely reported in orthopaedic surgery (and other treatments), changing clinical behaviour, community attitudes and the legacy of our history is slow. Cognitive dissonance is a thing… and even though 1965 saw gate control theory revolutionise our thinking about the way pain is produced, the implications are not yet fully accepted.

 

Allan, D. B., & Waddell, G. (1989). An historical perspective on low back pain and disability. Acta Orthopaedica Scandinavica, 60(sup234), 1-23.

Learning from old research (digging into history)


I recently submitted a manuscript to a journal. After the usual delay as the reviewers commented on my draft, I received the feedback – one comment stood out to me: “the references are quite old”. I scurried around to find some more recent references and resubmitted, but as I did, I started pondering this drive to continually draw on recent research even if the findings of the older references had not been superseded. There is a sense that maybe journal editors and perhaps people reading the journals think that old research has no merit.

As someone who relishes reading about the history of pain and pain management (If you haven’t yet read Melanie Thernstrom’s The Pain Chronicles or Joanna Bourke’s The Story of Pain, it’s time to do so!), and because some of the best and most revolutionary papers in pain and pain management were published in the 1980’s (Fordyce, W. E. (1988). Pain and suffering: A reappraisal. American Psychologist, 43(4), 276-283. ; Waddell, G. (1987). 1987 volvo award in clinical sciences: A new clinical model for the treatment of low-back pain. Spine, 12(7), 632-644. ; Waddell, G., Main, C. J., Morris, E. W., Paola, M. D. I., & Gray, I. C. (1984). Chronic low-back pain, psychologic distress, and illness behavior. Spine, 9(2), 209-213.), I find it extraordinary that some of the concepts being discussed today as New! Improved! Radical! are pretty much the same as those introduced waaaay back then…

Examples? Well one is the whole notion of helping people understand something of what’s know about neurobiology of pain. The “Pain Neuro Education” or “Explain Pain” thing. I’ve read several papers touting the idea that before Lorimer Moseley and colleagues published their paper on “intensive neurophysiology education in chronic low back pain” we never included information about what we knew about distinctions between acute and chronic pain. There’s this really weird disconnect between the practice discussed in the 1970’s and 1980’s where at the very least the Gate Control Theory was integral to helping people distinguish between hurt and harm – and this New! Improved! Radical! pain ‘education’. Seriously, incorporating what’s know about pain neurobiology has been part of a cognitive behavioural approach to pain management since the 1970’s if not earlier. It was even provided to me when I first developed chronic pain, and that was the mid-1980’s.

What can we learn from old research, and why does history matter?

Well, one of the things that strikes me about learning from history is that in the general population, and possibly even more so in the health professional population, there are “legacy models” of pain hanging on. Most of us will have encountered someone we’re treating/working with who holds a really strong belief that if there’s a problem with a disc (it’s degenerated, bulging, or otherwise misbehaving), then it just needs to be removed and maybe a new one put in, and everything will be just fine. Where does that come from? And some of us will point to our orthopaedic colleagues and suggest that it’s something “they’ve” encouraged. But perhaps if we take a closer look at the things that contributed to a shift away from “oh I can live with this aching back” to “it must be fixed” we might learn something about how to help shift beliefs back towards a more accommodating and accepting view of the problem.

The history of low back pain

Gordon Waddell, orthopaedic surgeon (Sept 21 1942 – April 20 2017) was, amongst many other things, a keen historian. His fascination came from his desire to understand how it was that low back pain went from being something most people experienced but were not troubled by, to the epidemic of disability that it had become – and still is.

David Allan and Gordon Waddell wrote a paper in 1989 for Acta Orthopaedica Scandinavica, called An historical perspective on low back pain and disability.  The paper was written to try to outline the genesis of the increasing epidemic of low back disability since World War II. In it, Allan and Waddell detail historic understandings of backache from as early as 1500 BC (Egypt) through Greek times (Galen, ~150AD) when back pain was described as “one of the fleeting pains that affected joints and muscles. Treatment was symptomatic. Spas, soothing local applications and counter irritants were used.” (p. 1). Back pain was not often talked about, possibly because it was so common and settled mainly by itself. Over the period 1493 (Paracelsus) to 1642 (Baillou) back pain was gradually classified as one of the diseases of “rheumatism” – a watery discharge or evil humour which flowed from the brain to cause pain in the joints or other parts of the body. Rheumatism was thought to be caused by damp and cold but not trauma – note that well!

By 1800, said Allan and Waddell, doctors started to seek a cause of low back pain itself. Maybe it was “rheumatic phlegm” – let’s rub the area, let’s heat it, let’s blister the area, let’s use cupping… And in 1828 a doctor from Glasgow (Brown) described “spinal irritation” and the vertebral column and nervous system could be the source of low back pain. This radical notion “swept Europe and had a profound effect on medical thinking for nearly thirty years”. The exact nature of “spinal irritation” was never shown… and the specific diagnosis faded away but by then and until today the idea that a painful spine “must somehow be irritable” remains.

Back pain and trauma

Chronic low back pain was not thought due to injury until the latter half of the 19th century. In other words – not all that long ago. And we can blame the industrial revolution and railways for the development of an association between back pain and trauma. In the fear that often arises during the introduction of new technology (remember RSI in the 1980’s and 1990’s? due to all these new-fangled computers we were using… and maybe, just maybe “text neck” could go the same way…) people attributed back pain and a number of other ailments on “minor injuries and cumulative trauma” to the spine because of the speed of early railway travel. This was when trauma and back pain became firmly linked.

But wait – there’s much more to come! Next week I’ll talk about the rise of the “Dynasty of the Disc” and why orthopaedic surgeons got in on the act…

 

Allan, D. B., & Waddell, G. (1989). An historical perspective on low back pain and disability. Acta Orthopaedica Scandinavica, 60(sup234), 1-23.

Moseley, G., Nicholas, M. K., & Hodges, P. W. (2004). A randomized controlled trial of intensive neurophysiology education in chronic low back pain. The Clinical Journal of Pain, 20(5), 324-330. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1097/00002508-200409000-00007

Each time we face our fear, we gain strength, courage, and confidence in the doing – Theodore Roosevelt


I’m not certain Theodore Roosevelt actually said that – but who cares?! It’s a great statement. For the person living with persistent pain, though, it can be the last thing you want to hear. After all, it’s tough enough getting up and just doing the normal things let alone challenge yourself! So… how can a health professional help?

Let’s briefly recap. Self efficacy is the confidence I can do something successfully if I wanted to. It’s a robust predictor of many health behaviours including exercise, stopping smoking, eating healthily and coping well with persistent pain (Jackson, Wang, Wang & Fan, 2014; Williams & Rhodes, 2016). It was first introduced as a concept by Bandura as part of his theoretical model of behaviour change, and further discussed in an experimental study in a paper investigating systematic desensitisation processes, arguing that this approach to treatment created and strengthened expectations of personal efficacy (Bandura & Adams, 1977). Bandura argued that people develop a sense (expectation) of self efficacy from their own performance, watching others succeed, being persuaded by someone that yes indeed you have the skills to achieve, and also awareness of physiological arousal from which people can judge their own level of anxiety.

Self efficacy is more than a simple “general confidence” construct, however. It’s far more selective than this. For example, although I believe I can successfully dance in my lounge with no-one there and the curtains closed, this does not translate to me dancing on a stage on my own in the spotlights with an audience watching! Self efficacy refers to confidence to succeed and produce the outcome I desire in a given context – and that’s extremely important for pain management, and in particular, exercise for people experiencing pain.

How does self efficacy improve outcomes? There are at least two ways: (1) through the actions taken to manage or control pain (for example, gradually increasing activity levels but not doing too much) and (2) managing the situations associated with pain (for example, people with low self efficacy may avoid activities that increase pain, or cope by using more medication (Jackson, Wang, Wang & Fan, 2014).

To examine how self efficacy affects outcomes, Jackson and colleagues (2014) conducted a meta-analysis of papers examining this variable along with other important outcomes. Overall effect sizes for relationships between self efficacy and all chronic pain outcomes were medium and highly significant. This is really important stuff – we don’t find all that many studies where a single variable has this much predictive power!

As a moderator, the adjusted overall effect size (r=.50) of self efficacy and impairment was larger than the average effect sizes of meta-analyses on relations between disability and fear-avoidance beliefs, and pain as a threat for future damage and challenge for future opportunities. Self efficacy has stronger links with impairment than cognitive factors such as fear-avoidance beliefs and primary appraisals of pain (Jackson, Wang, Wang & Fan, 2014).  Age and duration of pain were the strongest moderators of these associations and suggest that reduced self-efficacy can become entrenched over time. In other words – as time passes, people experience fewer opportunities for success and begin to expect they won’t ever manage their pain well.

An important point is made by these authors: how we measure self efficacy matters. They found that self efficacy measures tapping “confidence in the capacity to function despite pain” had
stronger associations with impairment than did those assessing confidence in controlling pain or managing other symptoms.

Bolstering self efficacy – not just about telling people they can do it!

Given that self efficacy is domain-specific, or a construct that refers to confidence to do actions that lead to success in specified situations, here are a few of my questions:

  • Why are most people attending pain management programmes provided with gym-based programmes that don’t look at lot like the kinds of things people have to do in daily life? It’s like there’s an expectation that “doing exercise” – any exercise – is enough to improve a person’s capabilities.

    BUT while this might increase my confidence to (a) do exercise and (b) do it in a gym – but does it mean I’ll be more confident to return to work? Or do my housework?

  • How often are people attending gyms told to “push on”, or to “stop if it hurts”? And what effect does this have on people?

If their confidence is low, being told “just do it” is NOT likely to work. People need to experience that it’s possible to do things despite pain – and I think, to be able to handle a flare-up successfully. Now this is not going to happen if we adopt the line that getting rid of all pain is the aim, and that flare-ups should be avoided. If we want people to deal successfully with the inevitable flare-ups that occur, especially with low back pain, then we need to (a) be gentle, and grade the activities in an appropriate way (b) have some “ways of coping” we can introduce to people rather than simply telling them they can cope or reducing the demands (c) have other people around them also coping well (and that includes us health professionals)

  • Ensure we attribute change to the person, not to us.

That’s right: not to our sparkling personality, not to our special exercises, not to the machines we use, not to the techniques we have – you get the drift? Progress must be attributed to the person and his or her skills and perseverance. Because, seriously, all this arguing over which exercise regime is best doesn’t stack up when it’s actually self efficacy that predicts a good outcome.

And for case managers who may read this: just because someone has successfully completed an exercise programme, or a vocational programme with exercise as a component, this does not mean the person can manage successfully at work. Well, they may manage – but they may utterly lack confidence that they can. Context matters.

 

Bandura, A., & Adams, N. E. (1977). Analysis of self-efficacy theory of behavioral change. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 1(4), 287-310.

Estlander AM, Takala EP, Viikari-Juntura E., (1998). Do psychological factors predict changes in musculoskeletal pain? A prospective, two-year follow-up study of a working population. Journal of Occupational and Environmental Medicine 40:445-453

Jackson, T., Wang, Y., Wang, Y., & Fan, H. (2014). Self-efficacy and chronic pain outcomes: A meta-analytic review. The Journal of Pain, 15(8), 800-814.

Williams, D. M., & Rhodes, R. E. (2016). The confounded self-efficacy construct: Conceptual analysis and recommendations for future research. Health Psychology Review, 10(2), 113-128.

The confidence that you’ll succeed if you try…


Self efficacy. It’s a word bandied about a lot in pain management, and for a group of clinicians in NZ, it’s been a shock to find out that – oh no! They’re not supporting self efficacy with their patients very much! It means “confidence that if I do this under these conditions, I’ll be successful”.

Self efficacy is part of Bandura’s social learning theory (click here for the Wikipedia entry) where he proposed that much of psychological treatment is driven by a common underlying mechanism: to create and strengthen expectations of personal effectiveness. Bandura recognised that we don’t always have to personally experiment through trial and error in order to learn. Self efficacy expectations were thought to develop from personal experience (let me do, and I’ll learn how); watching other people try (show me, and I’ll see if you succeed, then I’ll copy you); verbal persuasion that aims to convince that you have the capabilities to manage successfully (encourage me, let me know I can, and I’ll try); and how physiologically aroused or alert you are (if I feel confident inside, I’ll try but if I feel anxious or stressed I’m less inclined to) (Bandura, 1977).

Bandura and colleagues established that “different treatment approaches alter expectations of personal efficacy, and the more dependable the source of efficacy information, the greater are the changes in self-efficacy.” (Bandura & Adams, 1977, p. 288). The conclusions drawn from this mean that treatments where people DO and succeed are more effective at enhancing their belief in self efficacy, while watching others, or being told how to do something are far weaker at building this effect.

Bandura began working on this theory while pondering how psychological treatments, particularly for systematic desensitisation or graded exposure, generated their effects. Systematic desensitisation aimed to reduce arousal levels and thus avoidance while being in a relaxed state – therefore the person is exposed to increasingly “aversive” stimuli (stimuli you want to avoid) while remaining calm and relaxed. Bandura thought that there were other factors involved in avoidance behaviour, developing his theory that expectations of negative consequences alone can generate fear and defensive behaviour and that this isn’t necessarily reflected in autonomic arousal and actions. Bandura hypothesised that reducing physiological arousal improved performance not by eliminating a drive to escape – but instead by increasing the confidence that the person can successfully manage the situation.

For parents, the idea that if you believe you can do what you set out to do, is embodied in the little book “The Little Engine That Could” (Piper, 1930/1989). Remember? The little engine that couldn’t because all the bigger engines said so, but then tried and tried and believed he could – and he did!

So, what does this have to do with pain management?

Let’s paint a scenario. Allan comes to see a hands-on therapist because he has a sore back. He believes that hands-on therapy is the thing, because others have said it’s really good. He goes, gets his treatment and wow! Things improve! The next time he has a sore back (because, you know, it almost always comes back) what does he do? Well, on the basis of his past experience, he heads to his hands-on therapist, because he’s confident this will help his pain. The problem is, his therapist has moved town. He’s a bit stuck now because in his town there are not many therapists doing this particular kind of treatment – what does he do? He doesn’t believe that anyone else can help, and he has no belief that he can manage by himself. He has little self efficacy for managing his own back pain.

Self efficacy is not about whether a person can do certain movements, it’s about believing that the person can organise skills to achieve goals within a changing context – not just what I will do, under duress, but what I can do, what I’m capable of doing, and what I say I’ll probably do.

Self efficacy is not a belief that a specific behaviour will lead to a certain outcome in a certain situation, it’s the belief that I can perform that behaviour to produce the outcome.

So, self efficacy isn’t a generalised attitude – it’s a specific belief about certain actions, certain outcomes in certain situations. It’s not a personality trait like hardiness, or resilience, or general confidence or self-esteem, it’s about being confident that I can generate a solution to a problem in a particular part of my life.

The times when we’re least confident are often when we’re facing a new experience, or we’ve had a bad experience previously. Particularly if we’ve seen other people fail at the same thing, or succeed but do so with much fear and loathing. In the case of pain, there are ample opportunities to have a bad experience in the past, and to learn from other people around us that – oooh back pain is something to be afraid of, and you can’t manage it alone – you need to get help from someone else. Consequently, many people have very low self efficacy for successfully dealing with a bout of low back pain.

And health professionals: we can foster this.

How? By implying that success is due to what we do, rather than being a natural process of recovery. By suggesting it’s something about our “magic hands” or pills, or injections or surgery or special exercises, or “using the core correctly”. In doing so, we’re generating a belief that the person cannot manage alone. That it’s not what the person does, but the magic hands, pills, injections, surgery, special exercises or using the core…

Damush, Kroenke, Bair, Wu, Tu, Krebs and Poleshuck (2016) found that self management approaches to pain increase self efficacy, self management actions, and reduced pain intensity and depression in a group of community patients with chronic musculoskeletal pain and depression. A typically tough group to work with because confidence to succeed at anything is pretty low in depression. Self management aims to ensure the credit for recovery lies with the person doing things that help – creating and supporting a belief that the person has the capability to successfully manage their situation. The techniques? Simple strengthening and stretching exercises, progressive muscle relaxation, and visualisation, in a group setting. Strategies that typically don’t need technology, but do provide support. Information about the natural history of recovery was included – so people were given realistic and optimistic information about their recovery, whether it meant pain reduction, or not. The usual goal setting, problem-solving, and positive self talk were encouraged, and people set goals each week to achieve – maybe based on something from the session, or something the person wanted to do for themselves.

This is not a high-tech approach. This is simple, straightforward pain management as it has been done for years (right back as far as the mid-1970’s and Sternberg!). And through it, these people become increasingly confident that they could successfully manage their own mood and pain independently. As a business model it’s probably not the best for repeat business – but oh how good for those participants who could go away and live their lives without having to think of themselves as patients.

More on self efficacy in the next couple of weeks – we can help people to become confident that they can succeed at managing their pain if it should happen again.

 

Bandura, A. (1977). Self-efficacy: Toward a unifying theory of behavioral change. Psychological Review,  84, 191-215.

Bandura, A., & Adams, N. E. (1977). Analysis of self-efficacy theory of behavioral change. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 1(4), 287-310.

Damush, T., Kroenke, K., Bair, M., Wu, J., Tu, W., Krebs, E., & Poleshuck, E. (2016). Pain self‐management training increases self‐efficacy, self‐management behaviours and pain and depression outcomes. European Journal of Pain, 20(7), 1070-1078.

Maddux, J. E. (2016). Self-efficacy Interpersonal and intrapersonal expectancies (pp. 55-60): Routledge.

Managing sleep problems – a medication-free approach (iv)


The fourth step in learning to sleep well within an ACT framework, is build. My previous posts were: Discover and Accept and Welcome.

In build, we’re beginning to build new practices. This is about learning how much sleep you need, and when you need to head to bed and wake up again.

I know when I had trouble sleeping at night (I refused to call it insomnia, but it most definitely was!), I thought I’d tried everything to help. I had used all the sleep hygiene strategies like no devices in bed, no TV in bed, do some relaxation as I lay down, have a regular bed-time and wake-up time – and one of the things I tried to do was eliminate coffee after lunchtime. While most of the time coffee isn’t a problem for me, I learned that when I was vulnerable to not sleeping, coffee and similar substances (including chocolate and alcohol) were not good for me. And today I still don’t drink coffee after lunch and limit myself to three or so cups a day.

So… what’s different about ACT and this stage of learning to sleep again?

Well, people with pain often talk about being interrupted by their pain – of waking up in the middle of the night because of pain and then not being able to get back to sleep. While there is some truth to the idea that we wake because of pain, in fact we all wake up over the course of a night. You’ll know the typical “sleep architecture” (click here for a nice explanation) where we fall into a deep stage of sleep fairly soon after heading to bed, and that we have periods of REM or rapid eye movement sleep (dreaming sleep) at regular intervals over the night. What you may not be as aware of is that in the periods just before and just after REM sleep, we’re actually awake. Not very awake – but awake enough to roll over and get comfy again. If your bladder does what mine does, I usually have a quick trip to the loo around 2.30ish, and go right back to sleep again.

When you have pain, chances are greater than you are more aware of those lighter periods of sleep and, like I do with my bladder, notice that you are awake. If you then start noticing your pain… or your worries… or your mind starts dropping comments to you, then it’s possible you’ll stay awake. Partly this is because the biological drive to fall into a deep sleep at the beginning of the night has been partly satisfied. Partly also because experiences like pain are very salient or important. So are noises (the cry of a baby, that tapping sound on the window, the car roaring down the road) and during the lighter periods of sleep we’re more likely to wake fully rather than just roll over. We’re not actually waking more often as much as waking more fully, and perhaps for longer than normal.

Building new patterns means some basic “rules” – but rules that are held lightly. In other words, it’s fine to change things up a little from time to time (after all, birthdays, travel, having a cold, or getting a puppy are all things that can disrupt sleep), but broadly these things seem to be habits of good sleepers:

  1. Heading to bed around the same time-ish each night (or within 20 – 30 minutes of this time). Same applies to waking up – and to help you wake, an alarm clock (I do use my phone for this), and in winter, I use a bright SAD light, and bump up the temperature on my electric blanket. Light and warmth both tend to make you wake up a bit more quickly, so it’s helpful for me during winter when I have seasonal affective disorder (winter depression).
  2. Knowing that it’s normal to take around 10 – 15 minutes to fall asleep, and being OK with this.
  3. Changing how long you sleep for will take a few weeks – it’s a habit! So don’t go changing your bedtime or wakeup time too often. If you’re using sleep restriction (going to bed a little later than normal, perhaps getting up a little earlier) you can return to a more “normal” length as part of fine-tuning how long you need to sleep for your needs. But, don’t change things too often!
  4. If you have a late night out (or if you’re travelling over a time zone or two), try to get up at your usual time. Yes, this means keeping the same wake time over the weekends as the week days!
  5. Develop a kind of “wind down” habit – but again, hold this lightly because sometimes there are enjoyable events on late, or you have people visiting, that may mean you’re a little more alert than normal. But on the whole, basically spend around 30 – 45 minutes giving your mind signals that you’re heading to bed. This means cleaning your teeth, checking the doors, stopping watching TV or going on devices, maybe get into your jimjams (PJs!) and heading to bed with a book or magazine.
  6. When you’re in bed, just quietly lying there, letting thoughts wander in and out without getting caught up in the content, and you’ll notice yourself quietly falling asleep. This is totally normal. If you do get caught up in your mind chatter, as soon as you notice you are gently bring your attention to your breathing and the sensations of lying in bed, and this should (at this point in your journey) help you fall asleep.

You can see it’s not too different from what I hope you’ve been practicing all along – just that instead of fighting with those thoughts, or getting all tangled up in them, you’ve got skills to let them go, and just be there in the darkness, resting.

There are a lot of specific issues you may also encounter – things like your partner who snores like a chainsaw, or twitches all night long (I’m the guilty party here!); or when you have a cold or a stuffy nose – the former might take a little longer to deal with, but the latter is usually just for a week or so and I tend to be happy using decongestants just for those few nights when I cannot breathe…. As for the partner noise or twitching, like dealing with your thoughts this is probably about you dealing with your thoughts about the noise or twitching! Again, try welcoming or being willing to listen to or feel those habits. Making some room for them rather than getting caught up in thoughts of smothering him or her! And go back to your usual mindfulness practice.

Finally – the last step is living! We tend to put life on hold when we try to control rotten sleep patterns.  Now it’s time to know that while sleeping badly can come again from time to time, you have skills to roll with it – you know you can manage if you avoid fighting with it or trying to control it. Take those steps to build your new sleep habit, and go out there and DO again!

 

Managing sleep problems – a medication-free approach (iii)


More on sleeping the ACT way. Step one was discover – all the things you’re doing to help yourself sleep, but in your attempts to control the uncontrollable (thoughts, feelings, memories, worries, sensations, the environment and so on). And hopefully you’ve seen that these things can be counter-productive. That flash new pillow and bed is pretty useless if you travel somewhere. The pills need to be stopped at some point – and then you have to withdraw from them. And the thoughts, and sensations (including pain) just carry right on there not matter what you do.

So step two is to accept: accept what you can control, and what you can’t. Radically, this means changing some of the things you do to get to sleep – like pills (but get medical help for this process), doing relaxation, wearing your eyeshades and earplugs, getting up and doing things when you can’t sleep. It usually means a bit of mind chatter!

The common mind chatter is “I’ll fail”; “I know I won’t sleep and then I’ll be useless the next day”; “if I can’t sleep with my pills and earplugs, how will I sleep without them?”; “I’ll feel lousy the next day”; “I’ve slept this badly my entire life, it’s too late for me”; “why me? It’s a punishment”; “but I’ve got [a new job, a baby, a puppy, going on holiday]”; “I’m too tired”

It’s likely, as you begin doing this, you’ll be in bed wide awake – and it’s at this point you can choose. In that moment, you can decide to listen to your mind – or think of your mind as holding an opinion, but one you do not have to follow. In ACT language, what you’re doing here is learning to accept, or be willing to sit with (lie with), to make room for not sleeping rather than struggling to control it. You can’t control your risk factors, you can’t control that you’ve learned to be awake at this time. You can’t control your thoughts about this – but you can lie there and just notice the things your mind is dumping on your doorstep. This isn’t “giving up” – this is radical willingness to come alongside and be with your own sleeplessness.

The best way to learn to do this is – you guessed it, mindfulness.

Now mindfulness is NOT about getting you to fall asleep. You may fall asleep or feel drowsy which is cool, but if you try to use mindfulness “to fall asleep” you’re again trying to control the problem and mindfulness can then become an empty process. You ARE allowed to let your mind wander… just gently bring it back to where you want it to be. Practicing mindfulness can be done anywhere and everywhere – for a few short seconds while cleaning your teeth, sitting in the car, walking through a door – or longer, like at the end of the day, or in the morning.

Some ways to be mindful: notice your senses by bringing your mind to sounds, sights, smells, tastes, touch. Just list all the things you experience – like “a bird chirp”, “the weight of my legs on the seat”, “the smell of coffee”…and as your mind wanders off, as it will, bring it back gently to what you want to focus on.

Another one to try: close your eyes for a few seconds and notice any thoughts or images that pop into your mind. List it – thought, image, work worry, dinner planning.

This skill is one of the most important and useful skills when you’re learning to sleep again. When you lie in bed wide awake, it’s easy to get caught up in the content of what your mind is bringing to  you, rather than just noticing that you are thinking. The problem is, thoughts your mind brings often lead to that heart thump and dry mouth that keeps you wide awake! Instead, directing your focus on to your breathing, or your body contact on the bed, are simple things that help you just notice and be in the present.

If you have pain, mindfulness is one way of letting you experience the ache without that “Oh no, it’s really bad tonight” judgements of that ache. Gently letting yourself notice where you’re sore – and equally, where you’re not sore – and guiding your mind around your body, noticing every part, the painful and the non-painful – allows you to be present with your pain, without fighting against it. Practicing this skill many times during the day really helps you develop this skill. And don’t be surprised if your mind starts trying to either judge or solve the problem of pain, because that is simply the mind doing what it’s done since forever. Be kind to your mind, and bring your attention back to your breath, or your left earlobe, or your belly button, or your little toe…

At night, in bed, mindfulness is not about helping you relax and fall asleep. What it’s there for is to help you guide your mind away from being caught up in the content of your thoughts or feelings or sensations, and back onto just noticing that you are thinking, and bringing your attention onto something like your breath. It can be scary doing this at night because we often want to get out of bed or control what we’re thinking and force ourselves into sleep. And you know it doesn’t work! What mindfulness does is let your brain and mind know that being awake isn’t a threat – remember the flight, fright, freeze response? By letting your mind know you’re not buying into the horror stories, and instead you’re being OK with simply lying there noticing, you’re teaching your mind to let go of the struggle.

  • Start with feeling the sensation of the bed against your body, from the toes to the head. When your mind begins “minding”, bring your attention to your breath. If you get the urge to move or get up (actually, your mind brings the urge), notice it and choose to stay in bed, and bring your attention back to your breath or touch.

Welcome: You’ll find your mind will have a good go at dumping scary thoughts on you when you decide to be present and stay. Remember it’s your mind’s opinions – and be gentle with your thoughts, feelings and yourself. Stay with it, notice your breathing, make room to feel a bit tired (because you were going to be tired anyway, right?!), and be kind, but firm, with your mind, and bring your attention to your breath yet again. You’re resting your body while you’re lying down, and that’s a good thing.

If you find you have a frequent flyer – a thought or worry or sensation that comes visiting when you’re trying to sleep  – you can simply name it “Hi worry”, or “thinking”, or “here you are scared”, or “back again, pain”. Welcoming the thoughts or feelings may feel odd –  but once you’ve noticed it, labelled it, and then welcomed it, go back to your breathing or noticing your body. You can become quite creative with this process – if you have a vivid imagination for visual images, try projecting your thoughts onto a movie screen, or turning them into cartoon letters, or characters from a movie (my pain is a grumpy witch!), or a ball of string all tangled up, or a scrunched towel.  Some people have taken to imagining their thoughts as different voices – squeaky “I’m scared” or deep “I’ll never sleep tonight” – these strategies are ways to help you step back from the content of what your mind is telling you, and see your thoughts as simply thoughts made by your mind.

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Managing sleep problems – a medication-free approach (ii)


Last week I described the “conventional” CBT for insomnia approach (CBTi), but this week I want to introduce an Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) approach which is superficially similar to CBTi but holds to some of the fundamental principles of ACT: mindfulness, and letting go of control. As is typical for ACT, there are no hard and fast absolutes and instead there is a focus on workability – what works, in context.

Most of the content of today’s post is drawn from my personal experience and The Sleep Book by Dr Guy Meadows. There are five basic steps and according to the book it should take five weeks to get sleep sorted. I’m not as convinced about timeframes, so I’ll describe it as five steps.

  1. Discover: this step is about discovering what triggers and maintains insomnia, and focuses on why struggling to start sleeping is counter-productive. That’s right – stop struggling!
  2. Accept: well, with a name like ACT you’d expect some acceptance, right? This is not about resigning yourself to nights of poor sleep, but rather a willingness to let go of the struggle, to be fully present in the now – rather than reminiscing about the past, or predicting the future.
  3. Welcome: everything that shows up in your mind and body (after all, they’re there whether you want them or not!).
  4. Build: a new sleeping pattern by identifying how much sleep you need and when you need it.
  5. Live: during the day and sleep during the night!

Like absolutely any behaviour change, this process is not always easy! It takes persistence, courage and doing things that may not feel like sensible things to do! Let’s begin.

Discover: we do a whole heap of things to try to get to sleep – normal sleepers don’t. Normal sleepers just put their heads on the pillow, maybe let their minds wander over the day, and then gently fall asleep. When people with insomnia try to sleep, we try all manner of things to get to that state – and many of those things either prolong the sleeplessness, or actually wind it up!

Meadows describes four factors associated with the start of insomnia:

  • risks which may be getting older, being female, being a worrier or depressed, having a family history of rotten sleep, maybe being generally full-on;
  • triggers may include life stress, some medical conditions like irritable bowel or a fracture and yes, pain, and medications or alcohol, time zone changes and so on;
  • arrivals are memories, thoughts, sensations, emotions and urges that come to visit when we’re trying to get off to sleep but can’t – and these are partly the fight, flight or freeze response which happens when we begin worrying, or are part of the triggers (and we often think it’s those things that need to be got rid of); and finally
  • amplifiers, or things that are meant to be helping reduce insomnia but can actually make it worse: things like spending longer in bed, sleeping in, going to be earlier, having naps – and oddly enough, some of the things we’re traditionally advised to do to help us sleep. Things like reading in low light, having a warm bath or warm milk drink, watching TV, listening to the radio, playing with devices like the phone…. Even some of the things we do because we’re not sleeping – like getting out of bed and doing things like checking emails, doing some exercise, going to the loo – all of these things are done to try avoid the chitter-chatter of our mind, or eat least to control or distract from it, yet can paradoxically train your brain to be awake right when you really want to sleep… even things like keeping the room dark, wearing earplugs, doing relaxation, sleeping in a different bed from your partner, trying a new mattress or pillow can be a step too far and train your brain to think controlling these thoughts about sleep is the Thing To Do.

I’ll bet that, like me, most people have done all these things – and some of them are part of CBTi. There is a place for them in moderation – but it’s even better to develop the skill of not being caught up in trying to control our thoughts, worries, feelings, body sensations when we’re heading to sleep.

Now I’m sure this is where people are going “yeah but…” and giving a whole list of why your situation is different. Would you be willing to keep reading and look at some alternatives?

The risk of trying to control these arrivals and amplifiers is that while they don’t work, it’s too scary NOT to do them. Your brain learns, as a result, that sleep is a problem. And what does the brain like best? Oh that’s right – solving problems. Except that if you’ve ever tried to “make yourself” stop thinking, or feeling – have you noticed that you just can’t? Try it now: try and make yourself feel happy. Yeah… you either have to recall something enjoyable from the past, or anticipate something in the future. And while you’re doing that, your brain is cranking up. It’s worse if you try to stop yourself from thinking or worrying because that old fight, flight or freeze response kicks in and up goes your heart rate and perspiration and breathing…

So the first step of this programme is to discover all the things you’re doing to control the uncontrollable. We can’t stop feelings, thoughts, memories and so on from arriving. They just do. So fighting with them and trying hard to get rid of them just does not work – they’re there AND you’re feeling stressed because you can’t get rid of them!

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