Over the past few weeks, I’ve shared my story with chronic pain, the humiliations, the restrictions, the bureaucratic suspicion.
But today, I’m stepping aside.
This space belongs to others.
When I asked readers to tell me about their own journeys with pain, I didn’t expect what flooded my inbox.
These are people who don’t make the headlines.
They’re not chasing attention.
They're just trying to survive.
Their words speak louder than any statistic ever could. So, I’m sharing them with you.
Their fight deserves your attention.
Don: A Life of Endurance, Not Relief
Don has lived with Type 1 Diabetes for 45 years, and with it came the cruel companion of diabetic peripheral neuropathic pain.
In 2016, he was diagnosed with colon cancer. Chemotherapy, particularly oxaliplatin, the drug that saved his life, also made his neuropathy worse.
“The pain in my feet and hands mutilated my sleep,” he wrote. “Gabapentin doesn’t work. Lyrica doesn’t work.”
There’s only been one moment in recent memory when the pain disappeared: when he was prescribed oxycodone for kidney stones.
But that relief was short-lived and impossible to maintain.
“There IS NO reliable treatment for this chronic pain,” Don explained. “And trying to get a Schedule II medication consistently? Not something I could ever do long term.”
Don is cancer-free today.
But every night, he lies down in pain.
Every morning, he wakes up with it still there.
And despite his resilience, the system has never offered him a real solution, just judgment.
Rick: The Electrician Who Kept Getting Up
In 2000, Rick, a hard-working electrician, was rushing to see his newborn in the NICU when a reckless, uninsured driver blew a red light.
The crash broke his neck, dislocated his hip, and set off a long battle with pain that would span decades.
It started with Vicodin and neck injections.
Then came a workplace injury in 2007: stepping off a scissor lift triggered a spinal issue that slowly ate away at his ability to walk.
Doctors misread the original MRI.
One even accused him of being a “doctor shopper.”
“They said it was all in my head,” he wrote. “Meanwhile, my leg was atrophying. I could barely walk ten feet without sweating bullets.”
He wasn’t lazy.
He wasn’t drug-seeking.
He was just begging someone to listen.
Eventually, his wife, herself a pain sufferer, intervened and got him to a real neurologist.
A new MRI revealed what the others had missed: a severely herniated disc. Permanent nerve damage followed. So did another workplace injury in 2011 that shattered six vertebrae.
“I now live with two rods, twelve screws, six plates. One fusion even snapped in 2015, and I told them where to stick the idea of another surgery.”
Today, Rick survives on four oxycodone pills a day.
It’s not ideal. But it allows him to function.
He’s tired of being shamed for that.
“I’ve done therapy. I’ve tried injections. And yes, I’ve tried Tylenol. If that stuff worked, don’t you think I would’ve stuck with it?”
Rick's been labeled, humiliated, and ignored all before turning 40.
Kevin: Cut Off and Left Behind
Kevin had a laminectomy and discectomy at L5-S1 in 2002.
The surgery was a failure.
Not only did the disc re-herniate, but scar tissue wrapped itself around the S1 nerve root like a vice.
The pain was, in his words, “incredible and unrelenting.”
For fifteen years, hydrocodone helped him get out of bed and live something close to a normal life.
But then the crackdown hit.
His pain management clinic abruptly told him that only cancer patients or the terminally ill were eligible for opioids now.
Just like that, he was cut off.
No tapering.
No plan.
No help.
Cold turkey.
“It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever been through. The withdrawal was hell. And the pain came roaring back. No one cared.”
The clinic suggested Tylenol and ibuprofen. “That helps for about 30 minutes,” Kevin wrote. “Then I’m right back in agony.”
The system turned him into a ghost.
He's still alive, still in upstate New York, still in pain, and still wondering if this fight is even worth it anymore.
What If There Is No Relief?
We’re not just talking about people being denied relief.
We’re talking about a system that offers no relief to begin with, then punishes you for asking.
Imagine living with pain every hour of every day.
Then, imagine being told to try meditation.
Or yoga.
Or a rotating cocktail of meds that don’t work.
And when that fails, and it will, you’re met with suspicion for even mentioning something that might help.
This isn’t a matter of addiction.
It’s a matter of abandonment.
Related: The Unseen Toll: How Wisconsin’s ePDMP Is Failing Chronic Pain Patients
Got a Story? I Want to Hear It.
If you live with chronic pain and have been pushed aside, doubted, or punished by the very system meant to help you, I’m listening.
You don’t need to write a novel.
Just say what you need to say.
You can share as much or as little as you like.
And if you’d prefer to stay anonymous, that’s absolutely fine. I’m not a government agency or research lab. I’m not running numbers.
I’m just trying to tell the truth — your truth.
I’m working on a follow-up piece, maybe even a full series, where your stories will take center stage.
Not to sensationalize suffering. But to hold the system accountable for what it’s done to real people: mothers, workers, veterans, neighbors.
People who didn’t ask for pain but live with it every day.
You can send your story by clicking the “TIPS” button and including your email address so I can follow up if needed. Include my name at the beginning of your message so I'll be sure to receive it.
Please let me know if you would like to remain anonymous again. If not, I’ll simply use your first name and where you’re from if you include it.
You’re not alone. It’s time they knew that, too.
