Research

Help me solve this puzzle


The IASP definition of pain is:

An unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with, or resembling that associated with, actual or potential tissue damage.

Six key notes and etymology:

  • Pain is always a personal experience that is influenced to varying degrees by biological, psychological, and social factors.
  • Pain and nociception are different phenomena. Pain cannot be inferred solely from activity in sensory neurons.
  • Through their life experiences, individuals learn the concept of pain.
  • A person’s report of an experience as pain should be respected.
  • Although pain usually serves an adaptive role, it may have adverse effects on function and social and psychological well-being.
  • Verbal description is only one of several behaviors to express pain; inability to communicate does not negate the possibility that a human or a nonhuman animal experiences pain.

This definition allows for “pain is always a personal experience” and that “pain and nociception are different phenomena” – supporting the idea that the association between what goes on in the tissues and our individual experience of pain is both complex, and currently unmeasurable.

So therefore, why do we have this line in the IASP diagnostic criteria for complex regional pain syndrome: “The patient has continuing pain which is disproportionate to any inciting event” – but wait, there’s more! Kosek et al, (2021) indicate that clinical criteria for nociplastic pain include “…a history of pain hypersensitivity in the region of pain” and “Evoked pain hypersensitivity phenomena can be elicited clinically in the region of pain.”
I’m puzzled.

Pain that is “disproportionate” suggests there is “proportionate” pain… AND at the same time the definition of pain says pain is “always a personal experience that is influenced to varying degrees by biological, psychological, and social factors.” So if I experience pain in the presence of an inciting event, and report it as “OUCH” on the ouchie scale, who can tell me whether my pain is “proportionate” or “disproportionate”?

The nociplastic criteria are similarly confusing: pain hypersensitivity in the region of pain – really painful pain where I’m already experiencing pain? Or do they mean allodynia or hyperalgesia? Or…poke me where I’m sore already and the examiner can tell whether I’m more sore than I ought to be?

Underlying these diagnostic criteria lives a sneaky little beast I call “assumed normalism.” That despite all the work over the decades, some clinicians and researchers really do believe there is a reasonable relationship between nociceptive stimulation and the degree of ouch I might feel. I’m not sure about this…

I wonder if assumed normalism relies on experimental data where people volunteer to undertake nociception tests. These are things like quantitative sensory testing where individuals report the moment they experience heat, cold, pressure, and vibration (pain threshold), and when they want the experimenter to stop doing that thing NOW (pain tolerance).

Let’s think about that situation for a moment. An experimental set-up or lab. Volunteers who know what they’re going to be asked to do. Who know they can say “STOP” when they want to. Who know that no lasting harm is going to occur (ethics, don’t you know). And who volunteers for these kinds of experiments? Nuzzo (2021) pointed out that females are well-known not to volunteer for experiments where there is “an expectation of painful, unpleasant, or risky procedures” and cites research from as far back as 1976! (Rosnow & Rosenthal, 1976) – and earlier (Howe, 1960).

But more than this, Horowitz (2009) states “…QST is a subjective psychophysical test entirely dependent upon patient motivation, alertness, and concentration. Patients can willingly perform poorly, and even when not doing so, there are large intra- and interindividual variations.”

How have clinical diagnostic criteria included definitions that seem too have slid by scrutiny?

Why does it matter?

As soon as we begin thinking of “normal” “objective” “proportional” or “disproportional” in leaps human judgement. Bias. The opportunity to dismiss a person’s experience – on the basis of what we can observe, or what the person can demonstrate. We can only infer that someone else is experiencing pain on the basis of their behaviour – what a person says, does, in the presence of pain, in a particular context. And bias exists when it comes to interpreting behaviour.

As a person living with pain, should I aim to “look well” and be judged as “not suffering enough for pain to be a problem”, or “look poorly and be judged as “not using coping strategies, wanting attention”…

Because, unless all the qualitative studies I’ve read are really erroneous, bias and stigmatising from clinicians and insurers is a thing. From adolescents (Wakefield, 2021), people tapering opioids (Benintendi et al., 2021), gender (yeah, I mean women, Zhang et al., 2021) – oh the list is long….

So, perhaps we could consider an alternative way to describing these kinds of pains: I personally prefer “severe” but maybe there are other words?

Benintendi, A., Kosakowski, S., Lagisetty, P., Larochelle, M., Bohnert, A. S., & Bazzi, A. R. (2021). “I felt like I had a scarlet letter”: Recurring experiences of structural stigma surrounding opioid tapers among patients with chronic, non-cancer pain. Drug and alcohol dependence, 222, 108664.

Howe, E. S. (1960). Quantitative motivational differences between volunteers and nonvolunteers for a psychological experiment. Journal of Applied Psychology, 44(2), 115–120. https://doi.org/10.1037/ h0045002

Kosek, E., Clauw, D., Nijs, J., Baron, R., Gilron, I., Harris, R. E., Mico, J.-A., Rice, A. S. C., & Sterling, M. (2021). Chronic nociplastic pain affecting the musculoskeletal system: clinical criteria and grading system. Pain, 162(11), 2629-2634. https://doi.org/10.1097/j.pain.0000000000002324

Nuzzo, J. (2021). Volunteer Bias and Female Participation in Exercise and Sports Science Research. Quest, 73(1), 82-101. https://doi.org/10.1080/00336297.2021.1875248

Rosnow, R. L., & Rosenthal, R. (1976). The volunteer subject revisited. Australian Journal of Psychology, 28(2), 97–108. https://doi.org/10.1080/00049537608255268

Wakefield, E. O., Puhl, R. M., Litt, M. D., & Zempsky, W. T. (2021). “If It Ever Really Hurts, I Try Not to Let Them Know:” The Use of Concealment as a Coping Strategy Among Adolescents With Chronic Pain. Frontiers in Psychology, 12, 1840.

Zhang, M., Zhang, Y., Li, Z., Hu, L., & Kong, Y. (2021). Sexism-related stigma affects pain perception. Neural plasticity, 2021.

The complex world of identifying nociplastic pains


Towards the end of 2017, IASP put forward a new mechanistic classification: nociplastic pain. The definition is: “Pain that arises from altered nociception despite no clear evidence of actual or threatened tissue damage causing the activation of peripheral nociceptors or evidence for disease or lesion of the somatosensory system causing the pain.

Note: Patients can have a combination of nociceptive and nociplastic pain”.

This was great news! Prior to this, the term “central sensitisation” was used and abused to describe processes involved in ongoing pain that wasn’t inflammatory or neuropathic. Problem with that term is that it’s apparent in nociceptive mechanisms, as well as both inflammatory and neuropathic…. When the way people used the term was more akin to “well, the pain hasn’t settled down, so ‘something weird’ is going on and it must be in the central nervous system so we’ll adopt this term seeing as Clifford Woolf described it in the spinal cord” (Woolf, 1996, 2007).

In other words, any pain that seemed to radiate, hang around, and no respond to treatment was “centrally sensitised”. Perhaps so. Perhaps not. Suffice to say, people got confused because most of the typical central sensitisation from nociceptive/inflammatory processes subsides over time, but these “centrally sensitised” pains did not.

I, for one, am glad there’s a group in which weird pains that don’t appear to involve typical nociceptive, inflammatory or neuropathic mechanisms can be put.

Problem is: how do we know what fits into this group? We can be pretty certain when it comes to neuropathic pain, because the definition is very clear (though not so clear in the clinic) – “Pain caused by a lesion or disease of the somatosensory nervous system.” The notes go on to say that “neuropathic pain is a description, not a diagnosis” and I’d say the same about nociplastic pains (which is why I use the plural…). I also step out to say that I don’t think ALL nociplastic pains will be found to have the same biological mechanisms, especially given how widely variable neuropathic pains are.

Nevertheless, we need some way to decide which pains are in, and which are out of this group.

This table comes from Kosek et al., (2021) and summarises the findings from a consensus process within an expert group. They make the point that acute pain isn’t helpfully included in this group, and instead it should be used for pains that persist for 3 months or longer. They also point out that regional pain is included while discrete pain is typically not because of the central sensitisation processes involved (note: this is the correct use of the term! Confused? CS is a neurophysiological phenomenon, associated with more than nociplastic pain).

Looking at the above criteria, possible nociplastic pain is present if the person has criteria 1, and criteria 4. Probable nociplastic is present if the person has all the above.

There are some notes, of course: regional means the musculoskeletal pain is deep, regional or in several places or even widespread (not localised to one place), and each condition eg frozen shoulder and OA knee needs to be assessed separately. If there is an identifiable nociceptive source (or neuropathic source) then the pain needs to be more widespread than “usual” for that pathology. Finally, because nociplastic pain unlike neuropathic pain, has no definitive test currently, there is no “definite nociplastic” category – but once there is, this will be added.

What does this mean for us as clinicians?

Firstly it ought to stop people being thought as faking, malingering or otherwise not being believed. That should be a given but unsurprisingly because of legal and health systems and our own frustration at not being able to “fix” people, people with pain get that impression more often than they should. It also ought to stop psychopathologising people who have this kind of pain: we can’t distinguish between people with nociplastic pain and the DSM5 “Somatic Disorder” – so let’s just not add another unhelpful mental health label to what is already a stigmatised situation.

Then it ought to stop clinicians using treatments that simply don’t help – such as opioids for fibromyalgia. It might help clinicians pause before prescribing movement therapies at a level that is too intense for the person, because this only revs the nervous system up even more making the whole process unpleasant. Beginning at the level the person can manage and gradually increasing is crucial to success. And it ought to stop clinicians from administering “explanations” or “education” and expecting that alone to reduce pain. Because while cortical processes are part and parcel of every pain there is, it’s in this group of pains that some people think “top down” by thinking yourself out of pain is a thing. FWIW pain reduction is lovely and part of treatment, but shouldn’t ever be the only outcome (Ballantyne, 2015), and many times in this group of pains, may not even be an outcome.

Finally, it should stimulate helpful discussion about what “whole person” approaches to managing these pains looks like. The authors say “patients with nociplastic pain are likely to respond better to centrally than peripherally targeted therapies” and this does not mean talk therapy alone, or exercise alone, or indeed medications such as gabapentin or nortriptyline alone. To me, it means individualised, tailored, and integrated strategies to moving, managing daily life, restoring sleep, enjoying an intimate relationship, managing mood and memory, and these might best be offered by pain coaches rather than siloed “therapies” of physical, psychological or whatever other stripe there is.

Ballantyne, J. C., & Sullivan, M. D. (2015). Intensity of Chronic Pain — The Wrong Metric? New England Journal of Medicine, 373(22), 2098-2099. https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJMp1507136

Kosek, E., Clauw, D., Nijs, J., Baron, R., Gilron, I., Harris, R. E., Mico, J.-A., Rice, A. S. C., & Sterling, M. (2021). Chronic nociplastic pain affecting the musculoskeletal system: clinical criteria and grading system. Pain, 162(11), 2629-2634. https://doi.org/10.1097/j.pain.0000000000002324

Woolf, C. J. (1996). Windup and central sensitization are not equivalent. Pain, 66(2), 105-108.

Woolf, C. J. (2007). Central sensitization: uncovering the relation between pain and plasticity. The Journal of the American Society of Anesthesiologists, 106(4), 864-867.

Women, partner violence and pain


As the potential for greater repression of women’s autonomy grows (Afghanistan, United States, Mexico), along with racist and misogynist statements from business leaders (DGL CEO Simon Henry) it’s timely to look at pain in women. We already know that more women than men present with persistent pain (Blyth, n.d.), while women who are seen for their pain are more often misdiagnosed, offered psychiatric medication or psychological intervention only and have their experiences dismissed as “hysterical, fabricated, or nonexistent” (Samulowitz, et al., 2018). My daughter, when attending Emergency Department was offered a paracetamol and told “there’s no cure for being a woman” when seeking help for an ovarian cyst. Period pain is considered “normal” (Drabble et al., 2021). Pain in women is not a sexy topic.

Intimate partner violence is common among women. 27% of women who have had a partner report violence perpetrated against them. 24% of young women aged between 15 – 19 years report violence. Low-income countries reporting higher levels of intimate partner violence, and while data was not available for the past two years of covid-19 disruption, it’s expected that higher levels of violence are probable (Sardinha et al., 2022).

What about the intersection between partner violence and persistent pain? (BTW violence is defined as emotional, physical, or sexual harm experienced in a current or former intimate relationship and includes stalking, psychological aggression such as coercion, as well as physical and sexual violence).

Persistent pain is one of the most commonly reported health consequences of intimate partner violence (Walker, 2022), and women are more likely to be the recipients of partner abuse than men. Yet – open conversations about violence and persistent pain in women, recognising the signs and symptoms of partner violence in people seeking help for persistent pain, and adequate approaches to treatment are rare. Women may not disclose their situation for fear of being stigmatised, labelled unfairly, or having their pain – and their situation – trivialised.

Walker and colleagues (2022) carried out a systematic review of studies exploring the types of pain women experienced in association with partner violence, the severity of that pain, and the impact of pain on the person. They found that while pelvic pain was common amongst women who had been sexually abused, women also reported chest pain, back pain, neck pain, arthritis, and stiffness in joint or muscles, more frequent headaches, and more back pain – furthermore, women who had experienced partner violence reports higher pain severity, with 75% of women indicating moderate to severe pain, and the longer a women had been in an abusive relationship, the more likely they were to report higher intensity pain.

Interestingly, disability from persistent pain wasn’t measured often – only two studies from 12 included in the final review – but women with persistent pain from partner violence reported higher pain-related disability. They also reported worse impact on their mental health – more PTSD, anxiety and depression, with depression being one of the key mediator between a history of partner violence and ongoing pain.

The authors of this study (Walker et al., 2022) point out that it’s likely that women who have sustained partner violence and experience persistent pain are “not being adequately identified and responded to in clinical settings” – and that the fear of not being believed and the stigma of being on the receiving end of partner violence likely limits how many women openly discuss their situation.

Isn’t it time to get women’s pain prioritised? To get political about systems and processes that fail women? Isn’t it time to shift the narrative around women’s menstrual pain? To acknowledge that women are not mini men?

Finally, when we consider pain rehabilitation, we need to not only recognise that women have different priorities and goals for their lives than men, we also need to understand that doing rehabilitation is more complex for women than men – women report more difficulty prioritising their own rehabilitation over other responsibilities in their life (Côté & Coutu, 2010). Women may not even be referred for rehabilitation as often as men (Stålnacke et al., 2015). It’s time to prioritise understanding the lived experience of women as they pursue help for their persistent painand then do something different.

Blyth, F. (n.d.). Chronic pain in Australia: A prevalence study. Retrieved May 12, 2019, from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/ pubmed/11166468

Daniel Côté & Marie-France Coutu(2010)A critical review of gender issues in understanding prolonged disability related to musculoskeletal pain: how are they relevant to rehabilitation?,Disability and Rehabilitation,32:2,87-102,DOI: 10.3109/09638280903026572

Drabble, S. J., Long, J., Alele, B., & O’Cathain, A. (2021). Constellations of pain: a qualitative study of the complexity of women’s endometriosis-related pain. British Journal of Pain, 15(3), 345-356.

Samulowitz, A., Gremyr, I., Eriksson, E., & Hensing, G. (2018). “Brave Men” and “Emotional Women”: A theory-guided literature review on gender bias in health care and gendered norms towards patients with chronic pain. Pain Research & Management, 2018. https://doi.org/10.1155/2018/6358624

Sardinha, L., Maheu-Giroux, M., Stöckl, H., Meyer, S. R., & García-Moreno, C. (2022). Global, regional, and national prevalence estimates of physical or sexual, or both, intimate partner violence against women in 2018. The Lancet, 399(10327), 803-813.

Stålnacke, B., Haukenes, I., Lehti, A., Wiklund, A., Wiklund, M. et al. (2015)
Is there a gender bias in recommendations for further rehabilitation in primary care of patients
with chronic pain after an interdisciplinary team assessment?.
Journal of Rehabilitation Medicine, 47(4): 365-371
http://dx.doi.org/10.2340/16501977-1936

Walker, N., Beek, K., Chen, H., Shang, J., Stevenson, S., Williams, K., Herzog, H., Ahmed, J., & Cullen, P. (2022). The Experiences of Persistent Pain Among Women With a History of Intimate Partner Violence: A Systematic Review. Trauma Violence Abuse, 23(2), 490-505. https://doi.org/10.1177/1524838020957989

Rehab Fails: What goes wrong in pain rehabilitation 3


I’m beginning to think this series could grow into a monster – so many #rehabfails to pick from!

Today’s post is about rehabilitation that doesn’t fit into the person’s life. Or that the person hasn’t been supported to fit the rehabilitation into their life. THEIR life, not ours!

You know what I mean: for six to twelve weeks, this person has been coming along to their treatment sessions, doing the things the therapist suggests. They make progress and it’s time to end the programme. “Good bye patient” the therapist says. And the patient skips off into the sunset, fixed for life.

Yeah right.

Roll that movie right back to the start.

At the first consultation, therapists often ask the person about what they’d like to achieve. Often the person doesn’t really know, after all most people don’t routinely set goals – and particularly if someone is experiencing the disruption of dealing with a painful problem that doesn’t go away like it should. It’s not for nothing that people describe this time as being in “zombie land” and dealing only with “the essentials” (Lennox Thompson, et al, 2019). Nevertheless, therapists ask and people are expected to come up with something that can then form the focus of subsequent therapy. A recent systematic review, however, found that many studies describing goal setting practices fail to implement all the components of effective goal setting – in particular, omitting “formulation of coping plan” and “follow up” (Kang, et al, 2022).

Now these two components are crucial for long-term adherence to rehabilitation, and especially in persisting pain where it’s probable the person will need to follow therapeutic practices for a very long time. The “coping plan” consists of identifying barriers and facilitators to doing the actions that lead to achieving goals, and also involves assessing confidence to do so, along with generating a plan to deal with unexpected situations. “Follow up” involves self-evaluating progress, evaluation, and adjusting the plan to suit. (Kang et al., 2022).

Why are these two components so important?

Well, think of one of your recent patients. Think about the things you (and others in your clinical team) asked that person to do. Are any of these things typical for this person? Are they habits, built into daily routines? Are they familiar? What is this person’s daily routine like? What does their family need to do and what does this person need to do for them? If the person usually works, and is still trying to maintain that on top of their usual home and family activities, how much are you and your colleagues asking the person to do on top of these? When they’re already struggling with the debilitating effects of their pain problem?

See why we might have trouble with adherence? Let alone ensuring that the person feels it’s worthwhile doing what it is we’re asking them to do!

I’ve seen this problem time and time again. Little, if any, consideration of this person’s usual daily life context. Little thought to the burden of trying to manage normal life and what the therapists is asking the person to do. No discussion about what might get in the way of fitting these therapy things into their life – and then I’ve heard clinicians have the audacity to suggest the person isn’t motivated!

So much for person centred rehabilitation. So much for helping the person work out how they might fit these things in, and how they might develop a routine or habit that they can continue once they leave the therapist’s care.

While I’ve looked at goal setting and therapy for persistent pain, what I notice is that even in acute musculoskeletal management, studies have shown that therapists don’t really understand goal setting. Alexanders and colleagues (2021) found that physiotherapists undertaking goal setting for anterior cruciate ligament rehabilitation might employ SMART goals – but didn’t understand the theory behind goal setting, didn’t know that expectations were important, and didn’t use feedback sufficiently. And this is for SMART goals that have already been found wanting (see Swann et al., 2022).

What do I suggest?

  1. Start by understanding the person’s current responsibilities in life, and the impact their pain problem is having. Recognise that those impacts will also have an impact on their capability for adding to their daily routine.
  2. With the person, establish the best time of day for them to do whatever it is you think they should do. Work through what might get in the way – and what might support them.
  3. You may need to help them develop some additional skills to deal with what might get in the way of undertaking your activities – maybe skills to communicate with family, or the boss, so they can take 10 minutes out to do the breathing practice you’ve suggested, maybe some work with thoughts to help them be OK with guilt for “not doing things as normal.”
  4. Assess their confidence to engage in this additional task. Use motivational interviewing to boost their confidence (and it probably would help you to consider the importance of what you’re asking them to do in the context of their values and activities).
  5. Check how much you’re asking the person to do – is it achievable in this person’s life? A certain intensity might be theoretically important for physiology, but if the person doesn’t do it because he or she can’t fit it in, it just won’t get done.
  6. Check in with the person in between appointments. If you see them once a week – send a text 3 days in to that week to see how they’re getting on. Or ask the person if they’ll send you a text to let you know. Give feedback, alter your plan, encourage, celebrate.
  7. And once the person is nearly ready for discharge, make sure you have a set-back or relapse prevention plan in place. What should this person do if things begin to go pear-shaped? Do they need to keep going at the same intensity as they have during your therapy? What are their warning signs for things beginning to fall apart? (clue: it’s often not when people are beginning to hurt again, it’s often because the person is feeling good and starts to drop the things that have helped!)

Don’t do #rehabfails

Kang, E., Kim, M. Y., Lipsey, K. L., & Foster, E. R. (2022). Person-Centered Goal Setting: A Systematic Review of Intervention Components and Level of Active Engagement in Rehabilitation Goal-Setting Interventions. Archives of Physical Medicine and Rehabiltation, 103(1), 121-130 e123. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.apmr.2021.06.025

Lennox Thompson, B., Gage, J., & Kirk, R. (2019). Living well with chronic pain: a classical grounded theory. Disability and Rehabilitation, 1-12. https://doi.org/10.1080/09638288.2018.1517195

Lenzen SA, Daniels R, van Bokhoven MA, van der Weijden T, Beurskens A. (2017). Disentangling self-management goal setting and action planning: a scoping review. PloS One,12:e0188822.

Swann, C., Jackman, P. C., Lawrence, A., Hawkins, R. M., Goddard, S. G., Williamson, O., Schweickle, M. J., Vella, S. A., Rosenbaum, S., & Ekkekakis, P. (2022, Jan 31). The (over)use of SMART goals for physical activity promotion: A narrative review and critique. Health Psychology Review, 1-16. https://doi.org/10.1080/17437199.2021.2023608

What goes wrong in pain rehabilitation (2)


One size does not fit all. Cookie cutter treatments fail to take into account the huge variability each person brings into a clinical encounter, particularly when the person is living with persisting pain. Not really earth shattering news, is it?!

Let me unpack this one.

When we’re treating a person with an acute musculoskeletal injury, let’s say a lateral ankle sprain, I’m going to hazard a guess that most of the recovery occurs without our assistance (don’t shoot the messenger – go read Chen et al, 2019). In essence, we’re creating an environment that supports tissues to do what they do well – get on with healing. Because of this, there’s good reason to follow a basic treatment algorithm that will work for most people. That is, unless or until recovery stops for some reason.

It’s here that algorithms begin to lose utility, because the factors that are implicated in delayed recovery are many and varied – and it’s important to narrow down the particular factors involved for this person with their ankle.

So, IMHO, cookie cutter treatments begin to fall apart when recovery is slower than expected because there are a heap of variables involved. And yet what do I see? “Oh it failed but let’s do the same thing again but harder!” or “the person wasn’t doing their exercises” or “it must be psychosocial factors.”

Well, no, actually, perhaps psychosocial factors are involved, but they were there from the outset (just ignored because the tissue-based factors capture our attention). And no, doing the same thing again but harder leads to the same outcome, only more disappointing. And we have no idea whether the person was, or wasn’t doing their exercises – or whether the prescribed exercises were useful, or whether they even make much of a difference anyway! (again, don’t shoot the messenger, go read Wagemans, et al 2022).

But probably the most heartbreaking thing about using “one size fits all” is that this doesn’t take into account this person’s goals, lifestyle, current priorities, other contextual factors like workplace, family and friendship obligations that are integral to being a person, not just a lateral ankle sprain.

I once worked at a chronic pain centre where every person was assessed by three clinicians: a medical practitioner for diagnosis and medication management; a psychosocial clinician to understand life stressors and the person’s understanding of their pain and their current coping strategies; and a person who assessed how he or she was managing with daily life and functional activities. What I couldn’t understand was how almost every patient was given the same management plan: to try some drugs, see a psychologist, and do a home exercise programme. Come to the centre to see each clinician on a different day of the week. Irrespective of the unique presentation, the same recipe was given. The ingredients might have been a little different when the person was seen for treatment, but without fail, the basic elements were exactly the same.

How is this person-centred care? What if this person was a 4 wheeldrive off-roading enthusiast who loved to go fishing? What if this person was a traveling sales rep with a well-developed meditation practice? What if this person had five kids and couldn’t get to the pain centre for the twice weekly appointments? What if this person was hankering after spending some time with other people who were also living with pain so she could hear that she wasn’t alone, and could pick up tips from people who knew what it was like?

Today I still hear of people being given a copy of “Explain Pain”, get to do the “Protectometer” and then told to go see the physio and psychologist. Nothing about the person’s desire to work out the impact pain has on their daily life, nothing about the understanding the person already has about their own pain fluctuations, and nothing that’s tailored to what this person needs and wants to do.

Seriously folks, pain rehabilitation and management is all about tailored, bespoke, clever therapy based on what the person needs and wants to do, what they already know and bring to their own recovery, and it probably needs to include connection with other people who are in the same situation. Why? Because while “other people” might not give the advice the journal articles recommend, they offer advice from their own experience. And mostly, people with persisting pain need affirmation that they’re resilient, capable, knowledgeable and can work a way through this.

Maybe what we need to do is include people who live with pain in service design (Sandvin Olsson, et al., 2020) – and pain management delivery (Farr, et al., 2021). It seems to work.

Chen, E. , McInnis, K. & Borg-Stein, J. (2019). Ankle Sprains: Evaluation, Rehabilitation, and Prevention. Current Sports Medicine Reports, 18 (6), 217-223. doi: 10.1249/JSR.0000000000000603.

Farr, M., Brant, H., Patel, R., Linton, M. J., Ambler, N., Vyas, S., Wedge, H., Watkins, S., & Horwood, J. (2021, Dec 11). Experiences of Patient-Led Chronic Pain Peer Support Groups After Pain Management Programs: A Qualitative Study. Pain Med, 22(12), 2884-2895. https://doi.org/10.1093/pm/pnab189

Sandvin Olsson, A. B., Strom, A., Haaland-Overby, M., Fredriksen, K., & Stenberg, U. (2020, Aug). How can we describe impact of adult patient participation in health-service development? A scoping review. Patient Educ Couns, 103(8), 1453-1466. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pec.2020.02.028

Wagemans, J., Bleakley, C., Taeymans, J., Schurz, A. P., Kuppens, K., Baur, H., & Vissers, D. (2022). Exercise-based rehabilitation reduces reinjury following acute lateral ankle sprain: A systematic review update with meta-analysis. PLoS One, 17(2)http://dx.doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0262023

Making sense of pain


It’s been said many times, so many times I can’t locate the originator of the saying “humans are meaning-making machines” – no more so than when a person experiences pain. Whether it’s a stubbed toe, sprained ankle, thundering headache – or, in my case, weird and ongoing widespread body pain AKA fibromyalgia – we would like to make sense of what’s going on. And mostly we tell simple stories about what we were doing, what happened to the body and that’s that.

In the case of weird or persistent pains the challenge becomes harder. The original story might not fit any more, or because of that story, we limit what we do in case we do damage.

Now philosophers and other commentators have taken up the matter of what this experience really is: sensation or perception? Frankly, I don’t think this matters a jot to the people I see who are trying hard to make sense of what their pain means to them. One person I’ve seen recently said “I feel adrift, like a pingpong ball bobbing on the sea” – life is what isn’t making sense any more. And life, dear readers, is not as simple as sensation or perception.

One of the concepts used to understand what constitutes health is the construct “meaning in life.” Meaning in life is associated with resilience, better health outcomes, and very importantly, recovery from Covid and dealing with the stress of how Covid and other world events have played out over the past few years (Arlsan & Allen, 2021; King & Hicks, 2021; Lin, 2021). But where meaning in life has been extensively studied is….chronic pain.

This makes sense to me! Chronic pain is known to disrupt “normal” life for the person experiencing it. Movements that used to be done without thinking are now etched into memory. Sleep isn’t the respite from world cares it was – now it’s endless hours of aching. Assumptions about how quickly a person should recover from injury are smashed. Chronic, persisting, ongoing pain can disrupt life as we know it.

Meaning in life is thought to comprise three facets: coherence, purpose, and mattering. Coherence is about comprehending or “making sense of the past, present and imagined future aspects of life, being able to integrate their life story into a coherent whole (King & Hicks, 2021).” Purpose is “a central, self-organizing life aim that organizes and stimulates goals, manages behaviors, and provides a sense of meaning (McKnight & Kashdan, 2009).” Mattering is about how a person believes their life counts – a sort of transcendence beyond self to a bigger world.

All three of these constructs contribute to an overall belief that life makes sense, and that we are effective agents that contribute over and above our lifetime. You can see how this can erode when living with a meaningless pain like neuropathic pain, or ongoing migraines, or low back pain that just doesn’t settle.

Where does that leave us, if we’re clinicians working with someone experiencing weird pain? I think one of the most important parts of our work is to help people achieve a sense of coherence – that despite pain, it’s possible to still be “me” and that while the future may be different from what was previously imagined, it can still fit into a coherent whole. What this means is helping the person to establish what matters in their life, then figuring out ways for the person to resume those things, whether pain is present or not. This might look like helping the person come up with a story about their pain – a narrative that moves from damage to perhaps recognising that we don’t know why they hurt, but that they know of various factors that influence the severity, frequency and interference of their pain (Hadley & Novitch, 2021).

I also think we need to recognise that people living with pain may also find their purpose is challenged – and some of our work is helping people recognise their purpose in life and find ways to keep moving towards what matters to them. This is the part where we recognise values and life direction – perhaps “occupational drive” or the things that people want and need to do.

Finally, throughout our work with people, we need to remember that mattering matters. That the person we’re working with isn’t “the wonky knee” or “the shoulder” or “the bad back.” Being willing to see the person behind the eyes, the talk, and the pained body. This takes time, and most of all – listening with heart and curiosity.

Arslan, G., & Allen, K. A. (2021, Jan 25). Exploring the association between coronavirus stress, meaning in life, psychological flexibility, and subjective well-being. Psychology, Health and Medicine, 27(1), 1-12. https://doi.org/10.1080/13548506.2021.1876892

Hadley, G., & Novitch, M. B. (2021, Apr 1). CBT and CFT for Chronic Pain. Current Pain and Headache Reports, 25(5), 35. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11916-021-00948-1

King, L. A., & Hicks, J. A. (2021). The science of meaning in life. Annual Review of Psychology, 72, 561-584.

Lin, L. (2021, May). Longitudinal associations of meaning in life and psychosocial adjustment to the COVID-19 outbreak in China. British Journal of Health Psychology, 26(2), 525-534. https://doi.org/10.1111/bjhp.12492

Reflective practice


In occupational therapy and some other health professions, reflective practice is a vital part of professional clinical activity. In others – not so much. And the term reflective practice has a heap of assumptions attached to it, so it may mean different things to different people.

I thought I’d unpack a bit about reflective practice today because I think it needs to be part of working with people experiencing pain. It helps us get out of our own mindset (when it’s done well), and opens a space for questioning what we do and why we do it – and as you probably all know, questioning is part of who I am!

According to Wikipedia (NO! Not an academic source – but kinda handy in this instance) “Reflective practice is the ability to reflect on one’s actions so as to take a critical stance or attitude towards one’s own practice and that of one’s peers, engaging in a process of continuous adaptation and learning” (Schon, D, 1983). In other words, we take an action then step back from what we’ve done to critically appraise it. The appraisal might be simply asking “what worked, what didn’t work, what would I do differently?” or it might be a more complex process in which someone else helps us to ask these questions or compare what we’ve done against a theory or another way of working.

I will admit that I hold some skepticism about how well we do reflective practice (the “we” being us human beings in general). This is because we’re incredibly prone to cognitive errors such as anchoring, commission and omission biases, framing effects, availability bias, vested interest bias and groupthink (see Scott, et al., 2017). The sneaky thing about these biases is that they’re implicit: that is, we often are oblivious that we do them. To combat them we need to take deliberate steps, and most of us haven’t been taught how to do this. Even when we have another person to work with as a prompt, we can get caught up in biases and fail to be critical about what we think of as “normal”.

Lilienfeld & Basterfield (2020) agree with me, pointing out that reflective practice theory and practice doesn’t draw on an understanding of the difficulties using introspection to become aware of biases (because we’re not aware of these intrinsic biases), that self-assessment often omits areas in which we either feel highly confident or we’re afraid we don’t know and don’t want to admit we’re struggling, and that we often don’t learn from experience. Ooops.

Yet, there’s enough evidence to show that by employing reflective practice, people can develop meta-cognitive skills in which they check their own assumptions, identify gaps in their knowledge, seek new information to fill those gaps, then try that knowledge out in practice (Ziebart & MacDermid, 2019).

BUT how do we do it, and does it make for better outcomes for the people we hope we help?

Lilienfeld and Basterfield (2020) offer some ideas – and caution us not to accept clinician satisfaction with the process of reflective practice with evidence of effectiveness. They propose drawing on research understanding debiasing: things like “consider the opposite” or “consider the alternative” as deliberate questions clinicians can ask themselves. Asking clinicians “how might I test out an alternative hunch?” could be a useful approach. Suggesting clinicians and their supervisors/mentors take an “outsider perspective” to step back from their decision-making as ‘disinterested third-party observers’ might help break through our tendency to overlook habitual practices just because they’re familiar (and perhaps help us remain willing to be vulnerable and compassionate towards ourselves instead of defensive).

I suspect clinicians working in pain management could do well with an ongoing relationship with a supervisor. Not someone who holds themselves as the “font of all wisdom”, not a “mentor” who feels responsible for shaping therapists into something new, but more as a mirror lens on practice. A neutral but supportive partner who can ask questions like “I wonder if we could use this [novel theory] to explore what’s going on” or “what if we thought about this [opposite theory] for a while to see what we learn”.

In situations where we are utterly certain of a causal relationship between X and Y, and where this leads to treatment A being the only viable option, we possibly only need to reflect on whether we’ve done the right diagnostics. In pain coaching/rehabilitation/management we have little certainty, far less to guide us, and a person experiencing pain. This person is often in a very vulnerable position where they trust us to do the right thing by them. If we fail them by being too certain we’re right without being challenged, we can do them an enormous disservice.

Lilienfeld, S. O., & Basterfield, C. (2020). Reflective practice in clinical psychology: Reflections from basic psychological science. Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice, 27(4). https://doi.org/10.1111/cpsp.12352

Schön, Donald A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: how professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. ISBN978-0465068746. OCLC8709452.

Scott, I. A., Soon, J., Elshaug, A. G., & Lindner, R. (2017, May 15). Countering cognitive biases in minimising low value care. Medical Journal of Australia, 206(9), 407-411. https://doi.org/10.5694/mja16.00999

Ziebart, C., & MacDermid, J. C. (2019). Reflective Practice in Physical Therapy: A Scoping Review. Physical Therapy, 99(8), 1056+.

Experiential avoidance – and persistent pain


Most of us will recognise that when we experience a pain, we firstly notice where it is, and the sensory qualities of it. We automatically make judgements about that pain – some of this judgement is about whether we recognise this pain (have we had it before?), some is about whether it’s important enough to interrupt what we’re doing (should I drop this hot cup of coffee, or can I hold onto it long enough to place the cup carefully on the bench), and some is about how we feel emotionally (yes, swearing is common when we smack our thumb with a hammer!).

In our response to acute pain, we often want to avoid or escape whatever we think gave us the pain – unless, of course, it’s something we choose to do even though it hurts. You know, things like lifting really heavy weights, running distances, taking rugby tackles, eating chilli! But in most cases where the pain is unexpected we’re inclined to want to make it stop, get away from the thing that probably caused it, and take a few minutes (or longer) to not do the things that make it worse. So we avoid walking on a newly sprained ankle and we don’t keep poking and prodding at a cut or a bruise.

Avoiding is quite common and even helpful when we experience the initial onset of a pain.

So why do we talk about “fear avoidance” as if it’s a bad thing?

Well, it’s because avoiding beyond a useful period of time often leads to ongoing problems. Some of these problems are possibly over-stated: things like “deconditioning” are probably not as much of a problem as we once thought (see Andrews, Strong & Meredith, 2021; Tagliaferri, Armbrecht, Miller, Owen et al, 2020). While other forms of avoidance may never even be considered.

What do I mean?

For a moment, think of a “weekend warrior”. The kind of person who heroically plays sport on a Saturday, trains once or twice during the week, and otherwise works hard and plays hard. Let’s think of this person as a male, perhaps in his late 30’s, thinks of himself as a hard worker and a family man. When he sprains his wrist after a particularly hard tackle in a weekend rugby game, he’s the kind who shrugs it off, and just keeps going. After a few weeks and his wrist doesn’t get much better, he heads off to see his local physio.

We wouldn’t usually think of him as an “avoider”. He’s not pain-avoidant, but sometimes because he doesn’t stop to take care of his wrist sprain, he ends up with a more troublesome injury. He might even develop a “boom and bust” pattern of activity: on a day he’s feeling good he’ll push through, but then his wrist starts playing up and he needs to take a day or two off.

I’m going to call it like I see it: this bloke is avoiding. What he’s avoiding is the experience of being vulnerable, of seeking help, of being advised to stop pushing himself for a day or so.

You see, experiential avoidance is what we do to avoid feelings (emotions) and actions that we don’t like or don’t want.

We see experiential avoidance most often described in pain research in the group of people who don’t resume their usual daily activities in part because they’re afraid of their pain. Or they’re afraid of what their pain might mean, or the effect of their pain on other things they need or want to do. For example, Angelina (see here) might be worried about the effect of pain on her sleep. And we’re reasonably OK with offering these people some information about what might be going on in their tissues, and that the relationship between pain and what’s going on in the tissues might not be as straightforward as it is when we hit our thumb with a hammer.

What we might be less aware of, and perhaps struggle to deal with is when a person appears to be doing the right things, like they’re remaining active and staying at work, but might be overdoing it. What might this person be avoiding? Perhaps, as I’ve suggested in the example above, it’s about avoiding feeling vulnerable, feeling like he’ll be told to slow down for a bit. Slowing down might be a sign, at least to our weekend warrior, that he’s not as young as he used to be. Perhaps he’s afraid of stopping because that means his busy mind can start to plague him with unhelpful thoughts about things he’s worrying about.

Experiential avoidance, like avoidance when a painful injury first happens, isn’t always a negative. When it’s used as the key strategy for life, indiscriminately and with an eye only to short-term benefits and not long-term consequences, then it’s not so good.

You see I hope we can help people to develop psychological flexibility: the ability to choose a response to any given situation that maintains moving towards what matters even if this means doing what feels odd or even a backwards step.

I also think we might benefit from developing psychological flexibility ourselves as clinicians. If we continue using the same old, same old strategy even if the results aren’t what we hoped for, we’re not helping anyone.

Andrews NE, Strong J, Meredith PJ. (2012). Activity pacing, avoidance, endurance, and associations with
patient functioning in chronic pain: a systematic review and meta-analysis. Archives of Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation. 93(11): 2109–21.e7, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.apmr.2012.05.029 PMID: 22728699

Tagliaferri, S., Armbrecht, G., Miller, C., Owen, P., Mundell, N., Felsenberg, D., Thomasius, F., & Belavy, D. (2020). Testing the deconditioning hypothesis of low back pain: A study in 1182 older women, European Journal of Sport Science, 20:1, 17-23, DOI: 10.1080/17461391.2019.1606942

Skyline

Your patient has psychosocial risk factors: what now?


Congratulations! You’re an insightful clinician who’s offered your patient a screening assessment to find out if she or he has psychosocial risk factors – and yes! they do! Well done. Now what?

Do you…

  • send your patient to the nearest psychologist?
  • spend at least one treatment session offering pain neurobiology education?
  • scramble to find a “psychologically informed physio” to send them to, because it takes really highly trained and special clinicians to work with these people
  • give your patient the same exercise prescription you were going to anyway because, after all, they still have things going on in their tissues (or is it their nervous system? I forget – whatever, they just need to move, dammit!)
  • throw your hands up in horror and say “I never wanted to deal with people in pain anyway!”

You’d have to be hiding beneath a rock to avoid learning that people with musculoskeletal pain with psychosocial risk factors such as feeling that back pain is terrible and it isn’t going to get better, believing that it’s not safe to move or exercise with back pain, having worrying thoughts going through their mind, or not enjoying things very much should have special attention when they seek help for their pain. And we’ve all read studies showing that many of our frontline clinicians who see people with musculoskeletal pain aren’t comfortable, confident or clear about what to do with people who are, frankly, scared and distressed.

Papers like Caneiro, Bunzli & O’Sulllivan’s (2021) Masterclass clearly show that messages people with pain get told include avoiding certain movements to prevent damage, being advised that special exercises ‘protect’ the body, and that clinicians believe that certain postures and movements are inherently unsafe (bending, lifting with a rounded back). At the same time, Sajid, Parkunan & Frost (2021) found that only 11.8% of people referred by GPs for musculoskeletal MRIs had their mental health problems addressed, while only 16.7% of the MRI results were correctly interpreted by GPs and in 65.4% of cases were referred for “spurious overperception of surgical targets.”

Worse, Nicola, Correia, Ditchburn & Drummond (2021) conducted a systematic review of the effects of pain invalidation on individuals – invalidation from family, friends and healthcare individuals, and the person themselves. They found five themes: not being believed, lack of compassion, lack of pain awareness and understanding, feeling stigmatised and critical self-judgement. Perceived social unacceptability of experiencing pain was found to have an impact on the emotional state and self-image of those with persistent pain. Ya think?!

If I return to the case I presented last week, Angelina, a pretty common case of someone with a neck pain who is having trouble sleeping and generally handles her pain independently, we could assume that she doesn’t have significant psychosocial risk factors. After all, she’s managing to stay working, does a bit of self-help, and she’s not depressed though she’s a bit irritable.

What would you do?

I guess my first thought is: would Angelina even get a screening assessment to see whether she has any psychosocial risk factors? Might she present superficially well enough for her therapist to think she’s fine, let’s just treat the neck?

Of all the neck pain treatments available, what would she be given? And what might she be told about the rationale for that treatment? A recent systematic review with meta-analysis pointed out that while specific exercises helped in the short to medium term, the quality of that evidence was low (Villaneuva-Ruiz, Falla, Lascurain-Aquirrebena, 2021), while a systematic review with network meta-analysis of 40 RCTs found “There is not one superior type of physical exercise for people with chronic non-specific neck pain.
Rather, there is very low quality evidence that motor control, yoga/Pilates/Tai Chi/Qigong and strengthening exercises are equally effective.” (de Zoete, Armfield, McAuley, Chen, & Sterling, 2020).

More than this: would her sleep and relationship concerns be discussed? What about her safety while driving? How about how she manages her work, and her belief that perhaps her pain is happening because of a period at work where she wasn’t positioned “correctly”?

You see, at the moment in our musculoskeletal treatment literature, the focus has been almost entirely on grouped data. And this, folks, is where Steven Hayes points out that the ergodic theorum is violated. Ergodic theory is “…the idea that a point of a moving system, either a dynamical system or a stochastic process, will eventually visit all parts of the space that the system moves in, in a uniform and random sense. This implies that the average behavior of the system can be deduced from the trajectory of a “typical” point. Equivalently, a sufficiently large collection of random samples from a process can represent the average statistical properties of the entire process.” (I stole that from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ergodicity).

Hayes, Hofmann & Ciarrochi (2020) point out that “We cannot assume that the behavior of collectives (e.g., a volume of gas) models the behavior of an individual element (e.g., a molecule of gas) unless the material involved is “ergodic” and thus all elements are identical and are unaffected by change processes.” Humans are not ergodic (only a few noble gases are…) and what this means is that “statistical techniques based on inter-individual variation cannot properly assess the contribution of given elements to phenotypic change.” In other words: humans actively respond and change to what they’re exposed to – each of us presents to treatment with our own incredibly unique range of responses and past history, and these influence how we respond to a treatment. And perhaps this explains why most of our treatments (RCTs, using grouped data and uniformly applied and consistent treatments) particularly for persistent pain problems end up showing pretty small effect sizes. We’re violating the assumptions of the ergodic theorum. What we need are more sophisticated ways to analyse the impact of any therapy, and far fewer algorithms and cookie cutter treatments.

Where does this leave us? I have loads of ideas about where to from here, but not nearly enough space today to write about them!

My first suggestion is to avoid blindly following a treatment algorithm that fails to support YOU to sensitively and reflexively offer treatments that fit for your patient.

My second is to avoid measuring the impact of what you do only at the end of treatment (or worse, not at all!). Measure often, and measure things that matter – either to how you get to the end outcome, or that the person values. Or both.

And third: Get reading outside of your profession. Dig into psychology (I especially recommend Hayes); look at sociology (try Jutel); anthropology (try Sarah Pink’s “Sensuous futures: re-thinking the concept of trust in design anthropology”); make 2022 the year that you lean into uncertainty. I know the past two years have been incredibly unsettling – but this is the perfect time to continue on this journey into new ideas, fresh concepts, and ambiguity.

Caneiro, J. P., Bunzli, S., & O’Sullivan, P. (2021). Beliefs about the body and pain: the critical role in musculoskeletal pain management. Braz J Phys Ther, 25(1), 17-29. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bjpt.2020.06.003

Nicola, M., Correia, H., Ditchburn, G., & Drummond, P. (2021, Mar). Invalidation of chronic pain: a thematic analysis of pain narratives. Disability and Rehabilitation, 43(6), 861-869. https://doi.org/10.1080/09638288.2019.1636888

Sarah Pink (2021) Sensuous futures: re-thinking the concept of trust in design anthropology, The Senses and Society, 16:2, 193-202, DOI: 10.1080/17458927.2020.1858655

Sajid, I. M., Parkunan, A., & Frost, K. (2021, Jul). Unintended consequences: quantifying the benefits, iatrogenic harms and downstream cascade costs of musculoskeletal MRI in UK primary care. BMJ Open Quality, 10(3). https://doi.org/10.1136/bmjoq-2020-001287

Villanueva-Ruiz, Iker, Falla, Deborah, Lascurain-Aguirrebeña, Ion. (2021) Effectiveness of Specific Neck Exercise for Nonspecific Neck Pain; Usefulness of Strategies for Patient Selection and Tailored Exercise—A Systematic Review with Meta-Analysis, Physical Therapy, 2021;, pzab259, https://doi-org.cmezproxy.chmeds.ac.nz/10.1093/ptj/pzab259

de Zoete, R. M., Armfield, N. R., McAuley, J. H., Chen, K., & Sterling, M. (2020, Nov 2). Comparative effectiveness of physical exercise interventions for chronic non-specific neck pain: a systematic review with network meta-analysis of 40 randomised controlled trials. British Journal of Sports Medicine. https://doi.org/10.1136/bjsports-2020-102664

Making first contact: what to do with all that information! Part 3


In my last post I described the “4 P” model (sometimes called the 5P!) of formulation for pain. In today’s post I want to talk about an integrated approach for a team.

Teamwork in pain management is an enormous thing – IASP (International Association for the Study of Pain) endorses multidisciplinary (I prefer interprofessional) teamwork but gives little information on how teams best work together. In fact, research exploring teamwork processes in pain management is remarkably absent, even though there’s considerable research elsewhere in healthcare showing that effective teamwork is quite distinct from being an effective solo clinician. The processes of coming together, learning about one another and what each person and profession contributes, learning how to make decisions, how to negotiate differences of opinion, to trust one another: all of these have been explored in other health settings, but not in pain management ones. This matters because of all the areas in healthcare, pain management presents us with the most complex inter-related problems where the model of pain adopted by a team must be consistent or the person with pain will likely feel utterly confused.

’nuff said. Let’s take a look at a team mental model of pain, because this is where learning from one another and across professions becomes “live”.

The basic assumption for the whole team must be that pain is a multifactorial experience, influenced by (broadly) biological, psychological and social elements. In other words, a team won’t work well if some of the members think that pain can be “fixed” by addressing only one piece of the puzzle. Even in acute pain, the team needs to recognise that what a person believes is going on, the meaning they draw from the experience, the influence of others (the family, hospital staff, community) will make a difference to the person’s distress and disability. Context always matters and people always bring their previous experiences (either personal or drawing from what they’ve seen/heard from others, including media) with them when they’re in pain.

If the team takes this idea on board, then the weight that’s placed on the various factors contributing to distress and disability should be equal, at least initially. For example, although anxiety might be a key influence in one person’s pain experience, this shouldn’t be valued above possible biological factors. Each contributing factor needs to earn its way into the overall formulation, and it’s only from reviewing the formulation as a whole that it’s possible to determine where to begin with treatment.

This sounds complicated – and it can be in some cases! But it is really a mindset rather than being horribly complex. If we hold each piece of the puzzle lightly, look to the relationships between each piece, then we can begin to see how one factor influences another. And teams can, if they share their ideas, put the pieces together much more effectively than any single person can – even the person with pain.

Yes, the person with pain IS part of the team – always. How else will the team know they’ve been effective?

Teams form a mental model of what each other knows, what the team (as a whole) thinks matters, and who in the team might offer the mix of skills the person needs. This mental model doesn’t happen instantly: you can’t put six clinicians in a room and an hour later expect them to have a common understanding of pain, each other, and what the team can do. There’s good research showing that teams need time together – even virtual teams (Maynard & Gilson, 2021) – and that frequently changing team members reduces the teams’ effectiveness (Bedwell, 2019; Williams & Potts, 2010). Mental models emerge as teams share knowledge – the problem is that group members often share knowledge that is common, rather than unique information that could be the linchpin to an effective decision (Levine, 2018).

In my experience, and reading through an enormous amount of research, the most commonly adopted model in persistent pain management is a cognitive behavioural approach. Now this is not “CBT” the therapy, but instead an approach that recognises:

People are active processors of information and not passive reactors.

Thoughts (e.g., appraisals, expectations, and beliefs) can elicit and influence mood, affect physiological processes, have social consequences, and also serve as an impetus for behavior; conversely, mood, physiology, environmental factors, and behavior can influence the nature and content of thought processes.

• Behaviour is reciprocally determined by both individual and environmental factors.

People can learn more adaptive ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving.

People should be active collaborators in changing their maladaptive thoughts, feelings, and behaviour. (Turk & Flor, 2013)

We might disagree on how these points might be operationalised, and treated, but a team should have something like this as a critical understanding of how the factors influencing a person’s distress and disability might fit together.

I’ve written plenty of times about the formulation approach that I’ve often used – here and here – and I’ll show you another ACT-based formulation next week. In the meantime, perhaps it’s time to consider how well you and your team know one another, and consider whether you have enough trust in one another to debate issues (not people), bring unique information (rather than shared), and collaborate rather than compete?

Bedwell, W. L. (2019). Adaptive Team Performance: The Influence of Membership Fluidity on Shared Team Cognition. Frontiers of Psychology, 10, 2266. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2019.02266

Levine, J. M. (2018). Socially-shared cognition and consensus in small groups. Current Opinion in Psychology, 23, 52-56. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2017.12.003

Maynard, M. T., & Gilson, L. L. (2021). Getting to know you: The importance of familiarity in virtual teams. Organizational Dynamics, 50(1). https://doi.org/10.1016/j.orgdyn.2021.100844

Turk, D. C., & Flor, H. (2013). The Cognitive-Behavioral Approach to Pain Management. In S. B. McMahon, M. Koltzenburg, I. Tracey, & D. C. Turk (Eds.), Wall and Melzack’s Textbook of Pain (6 ed., pp. 592-602). Saunders. https://doi.org/10.1016/b978-0-7020-4059-7.00043-7

Williams, A. C., & Potts, H. W. (2010). Group membership and staff turnover affect outcomes in group CBT for persistent pain. Pain, 148(3), 481-486. https://doi.org/http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.pain.2009.12.011