For the past few months, I’ve been meeting with a psychologist at a university-hospital pain management unit (PMU). There are several of these mental health professionals who work within “my” PMU, because chronic pain is known to be associated with depression and other mental health issues.
It’s sometimes seen as a “chicken or egg” question, as in “which came first”? Many specialists believe that chronic pain can cause anxiety, depression, and other psychological problems. Some feel that most (all?) patients with severe chronic pain also have underlying mental health issues, which contributed to the onset of their pain condition.
The latter approach is, in my view, dangerous. That’s because it can lead to an automatic – and unfounded – assumption that all patients presenting with chronic pain are (for example) depressed. Which can lead physicians to prescribe antidepressants or other mental health therapies to patients who don’t necessarily need them.
The assumption that all patients are depressed is something that I’ve often heard or read about in relation to my disease; Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). Even at scientific meetings and medical conferences, I’ve heard specialists confidently stating that all CRPS patients require treatment for depression.
Yet I know that’s simply not true. How can I possibly claim to know more than these specialists, doctors, and researchers? Because I have CRPS, and I’m not depressed. Nor do I suffer from anxiety. These are the two psychological conditions most often associated with this disease.
I’m mentioning this today, because this was my last psychology consultation at the PMU. Are you wondering why I was seeing a psychologist, if I have no mental health issues? It was because I’ve needed help, over the past few months, to deal with disease-related grief.
Not grief for the loss of a loved one, so much as for the loss of… me. Of the person I used to be, before I was struck with this nasty neuro-inflammatory and autoimmune disease. Although I’ve had CRPS for just over three years now, it unexpectedly worsened last autumn. New symptoms suddenly appeared, cognitive issues.
I began to have serious difficulties in concentrating and focusing on my work. With short-term memory, as well. Even reading and writing, which I’ve always loved, became a real struggle.
People would tell me that I’d said, or written, the wrong word. When I think of something now, the word I mean to use isn’t necessarily the one that comes out; but in my mind, I’ve said or written the correct word.
Some funny examples are when I’ve said or written “elephant” instead of “element”, or “partridge” for “particle”. Less funny was a funeral at which I kept saying “congratulations” when I meant – obviously! – to say “condolences”.
Because of these new symptoms, diagnosed a mild cognitive impairment (MCI), I’ve had to step away from my career. My last day at work was on December 20th, right before the holidays. Almost six months ago. And neither my PMU specialists nor my family doctor expect me to be able to return to my job in the near future.
That’s what I’ve needed psychological help with, grieving for the loss of my career. Which was tied, in so many ways, to my identity. Even to my sense of self-worth, my self-respect.
A few years ago I was lucky enough to land a newly-created position, which combined my passions for bioethics and philanthropy. Doing the right thing, the right way, with the added bonus of giving away money to Canadian healthcare charities ,-)
It felt as though every job I’d ever had was simply a stepping stone to this one role! It also provided me the opportunity to join a fantastic team, which is truly important to me. After all, until recently most of my waking hours have usually been spent at the office!
Added to all this was a gorgeous work environment… a newly-renovated open, bright, and window-lined space. Every desk had a sit/stand option, so I could finally work standing up for part of each day. There was free coffee and tea on each floor of our newly-renovated head office; espresso, cappuccino, latté, even hot chocolate.
Strange as it may seem to so many people, I miss all of that; the people on my team, work that was both meaningful to me and challenging, even the lovely office environment. That feeling of anticipation, of never knowing what a work day would bring, of which projects I’d be able to collaborate on. That’s all gone, now.
So where am I? Often at home. Not that I don’t love my home – I do! But after working so hard to get where I was, in terms of my career and future plans, I needed to grieve for my career, my colleagues, my work… That entire part of my life.
During the summer months it has been easy to get out of the house, to see other people. I just hop on my bike, and ride – using only my left hand. Because of the CRPS, I have to stop often during my rides, and there are often other cyclists at the popular rest areas and parks.
My little cycling buddy, Max, is a great way to meet people; he also helps me raise awareness of this rare disease, as a conversation starter. So although I might ride alone, I interact with others; there’s a social aspect to even my solitary rides.
Last winter, though, was rough. Some days, it felt almost as though I was trapped at home. I love to walk outside, but the CRPS in my hand and arm gets much worse if I stay outside for too long in cold weather. And I can only stay at my gym for a few hours before the loud music starts to annoy me…
I kept wanting to head over to the nearest public library, but it was closed for a large-scale renovation with the building of an addition. This winter, I’ve promised myself, will be different. The new public library is absolutely stunning. There’s a café area, where people are encouraged to chat – quietly, of course! – meeting rooms, even a game room…
I can imagine myself happily spending time in this space, even though I still can’t follow the plot of a book because of the MCI. This library has works in both English and French, which means that they have twice as many magazines as most libraries… and its periodicals reading room is gorgeous.
You might be seeing more photos of this new building, once winter sets in here. And no, I’m still not depressed!
Thanks for reading, as always. For any comments, please reach out on Twitter or IG ‘-) In the meantime, I wish you a happy almost-summer day!