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Transformation and Hope—The Means to Recovery
By Kathleen Campbell, M. Div

Introduction

Service to others has been the focus of my life and work. I was reared in a parsonage where Jesus' command to love our neighbor was part of daily life. Living next door to the church, I remember a transient at our door that needed money for gas and groceries. My parents provided what he needed. Such formative experiences led me to follow my father's profession into the ordained ministry. During my years in ministry, I helped resettle refugees from Southeast Asia, organized congregations to respond to the political causes of hunger, demonstrated against the U.S. backed war in El Salvador, was arrested for civil disobedience as part of the anti-apartheid movement, and spoke out for the ordination of gay and lesbian seminary friends. In my years as a pastor, I provided spiritual direction, preached and taught classes, and prayed with the dying in nursing homes and hospitals. I took a leave from parish ministry eight years ago, but continued to be active in my congregation and also volunteered at my children's school. My current work at the University of Puget Sound is grounded in a desire to help students obtain an education that will help them contribute something of value to the world.

When I was diagnosed in February 2002 with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, a chronic and painful condition in my right foot, the ability to serve others unraveled quickly. The demands of therapy and recovery meant re-ordering my life, discarding many activities to cope with the essentials of life: managing my 40-hour work week and parenting two elementary-age children. I was 42 and in the middle of divorce proceedings. The children lived with me 9 of every 14 days. I write this essay after 16 months of treatment in order to provide support and hope to others who experience the challenges of CRPS. Recovery can happen. For those with CRPS in a lower extremity, it's possible to enjoy an active life again. I walk 2.8 miles each morning, mow the lawn for an hour on weekends, ride my bike or swim four days a week, and play soccer and basketball in the backyard with my children. I gradually have resumed volunteer work at my church as the amount of therapy time decreases and energy returns for other activities. I write also to share with those in healing professions the multidisciplinary approach to recovery that worked for me so it might help you understand and assist those who have CRPS.

Before writing, I hesitated to discuss my recovery with others for three reasons. First, I'm not yet healed. I'm not even sure what it looks like with CRPS. People observe that I'm walking with a bounce in my step again, and remark that they're glad to see I'm fine. They are wrong. Yes, I've made remarkable progress that I celebrate. But, I'm still not fine. The pain persists even as pain medication has been reduced significantly. My foot still turns red after certain activities; the nerves still do not react normally at all times. I still must follow a treatment protocol each day to keep the symptoms from returning and retain my level of function. Setbacks continue to flare up the pain and require that I return to exercises needed at earlier stages of the recovery process. I must pace myself at work and home and be clear with others when enough is enough. The end of this is not yet in sight, but I have accomplished all my functional goals in therapy. My hope is that though I still deal with this illness, there is something in my experience that might enable others to have courage to move through the challenges and reach their goals in therapy.

Another hesitation in writing arises from the uncertainty of exactly what was needed to return to a high level of activity, and what's needed to stay in remission. In the months of treatment, I entered a world of therapists who measured and evaluated my progress with strict repetitions of quota-based exercises, and doctors who prescribed medication to cope with the pain. Recovery, though, included more than what therapists observed and what doctors prescribed. My healing has included facts that aren't easy to prove. Is it worth sharing these anecdotal experiences that are outside the bounds of empirical science?
Dr. Denis Burkit once said, "Not everything that counts can be counted." I found this to be true in returning to a high level of function again.

My last hesitation to discuss my recovery is the obvious realization that my experience is unique. I responded to the symptoms and treatment of this chronic pain condition with meanings and feelings that others might not share. I hope that the particulars of my story might connect with something familiar in your suffering and healing, or your practice of therapy and medicine. Perhaps anything unique may offer new hope, courage or wisdom in dealing with CRPS.