The Song of Our Scars: The Untold Story of Pain by Haider Warraich

Almost everything we know about pain and how to treat it is wrong, Haider Warraich says in his insightful book The Song of Our Scars: The Untold Story of Pain, published earlier this year by Basic Books. The physician and assistant professor at Harvard Medical School claims that there are dire misunderstandings between patients who feel pain, the clinicians who address it, and the researchers who study it. Worst of all, he says, pain has transformed from a symptom into a disease.

Haider Warraich is a physician, author and researcher at the VA Boston Healthcare System, Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Harvard Medical School. He has published more than 140 research papers including in the NEJM, JAMA and BMJ. He frequently writes for the New York Times and Washington Post, and is the author of the books Modern Death, State of the Heart and the just published The Song of Our Scars – The Untold Story of Pain (Basic Books).@haiderwarraich

One in five American adults—an estimated sixty-six million in total—experience chronic pain, resulting in billions of dollars in direct medical costs and lost productivity. Lower back pain is the leading cause of disability in the United States, followed by migraine headaches, neck pain and conditions like osteo and rheumatoid arthritis. And Americans are most likely to use opioids to help alleviate their pain. Yet, as Warraich points out, opioids provide little to no benefit for chronic non-cancer pain, and can even make it worse.

Pain’s storied complexity is multifaceted and multilayered. Its treatment, in Warraich’s view, requires empathic holistic care that considers how pain is racialized, gendered and personal. Pain is subjective. You can have pain without suffering. There is no single dedicated pain center in the brain. The pain of Black people remains both under-recognized and under-treated. Women are more likely to feel pain, but their pain is also more likely to be dismissed. Simply assessing pain on a numeric scale doubles the risk of opioid overdoses in hospital. And exercise is a vital part of any multidisciplinary approach to managing chronic pain.

Warraich himself has chronic back pain due to a sports injury that happened many years ago when he was a medical student in Pakistan—around the time when he felt confirmed in his vocation to be a doctor. Just when he felt like he had fallen in love with medicine, he broke his back.

Now an insightful, wounded healer, Warraich draws from his own experience of how disruptive chronic pain can be—how it “disrupts the way a person moves through their life, the narrative they define themselves by, the arc of their stories.”

The Song of Our Scars is filled with research findings, clinical vignettes, historical details and sociopolitical commentary. Yet the story Warraich tells is so broad and at times surprisingly sequenced—jumping from the mythological Greek world, to the history of opium, to the American Civil War—that it can sound like listening to the radio while scanning the channels, catching snippets of newscasts in search of a good song. We as readers want to hear more of Warraich’s own personal self-reflections, which would help focus his narrative by giving voice to his song, and deepen its impact on readers, his listeners.

Perhaps most helpful is Warraich’s concern for the origins of the opioid addiction crisis in America. The story of the opioid crisis continues to unfold in the United States, and recently came into the headlines in the documentary “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed,”directed by award-winning director Laura Poitras about artist Nan Goldin’s life and chronicles her addiction and activism that led to major museums such as the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, DC, the Guggenheim, the Tate and others to stop taking donations from the Sackler family and removing the Sackler name from the walls of their institutions. The documentary won the prestigious Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in September.

In The Song of Our Scars, Warraich highlights how Cicely Saunders’s revolutionary approach to pain management in hospice care was “hijacked” into a business strategy by the pharmaceutical industry, whose goal, he says, “was to take Saunders’s approach toward total pain experienced by people at the end of life and apply it to people in every phase of life, treating routine medical conditions as if they were terminal illnesses.” Saunders, who started her clinical practice as a nurse and became a doctor, is credited with founding the first modern hospice and establishing the discipline and the culture of palliative care in the late 1950s.

In terms of narrative care, Warraich brings to mind, but does not reference, other prominent physicians and scholars who describe and advocate also for such empathic patient-centered care, including Rita Charon, Victoria Sweet, Arthur Frank and William Randall.

What are the songs of our scars? What type, form and shape do they take? There are love songs, ballads, laments and anthems, to name an obvious few. How do they help us? Do they capture our hearts and move our spirits? Warraich hopes so. As patients tell us their tales of pain, he knows how important it is to listen to them. And he wants healthcare providers to learn how to listen more fully, deeply and more compassionately in clinical practice. Empathy is what makes a good doctor, he says—empathy and kindness.

“As we look to the future and take stock of all that we know about chronic pain,” he says, “we find that the most promising treatment approaches don’t involve any chemical inebriation or procedural manipulation. They involve one human being talking to another, helping them realize that the path to relief was within them all along.”—Robert Mundle

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Robert Mundle is a graduate of Yale Divinity School and a palliative care chaplain in Kingston, Ontario. He is the author of How to Be an Even Better Listener: A Practical Guide for Hospice and Palliative Care Volunteers (JKP 2018).

The Doctor’s Dilemma by Daly Walker MD

In his new compilation of 16 short stories titled The Doctor’s Dilemma, Dr. Daly Walker provides a stark portrait of physicians facing their own and their patients’ mortality, as well as navigating the practical morality of medicine —striving to do “right” in complex circumstances.  As a retired general surgeon and accomplished writer, Dr. Walker melds intimate knowledge of medicine and particularly the surgical theater with a profound insight into aging, intimacy and loss.  His archetypal character is an aging surgeon facing degradation of skill and encroaching self-doubt—changes that bring a sense of insecurity, a questioning of identity and a loss of control.  His protagonists project outward strength and heroic intent, but struggle to find grounding in fraught relationships and their identity as physicians. This noble effort—to be present and perfect for one’s patients and loved ones, while reckoning with one’s fallibility and insecurities—is familiar to any physician. But that inclination is also highly relatable to general readers coping with the demands of daily life.

 Dr. Walker writes what he knows in vivid, engrossing detail.  Most stories are set in small-town Indiana, where he was raised and worked for decades as a surgeon.  A Midwestern sensibility permeates his work in the jocular traditionalism of the surgeons we meet and in the dignity and modesty of other small-town characters. Dr. Walker brings further autobiographical elements; his characters are often veterans of wartime surgery with wisdom and relationships borne from intense, chaotic environments.

The Doctor’s Dilemma is divided in three sections: Mortality, Morality and Immortality, though these themes are often intertwined.   A group of stories present aging surgeons losing skill and confidence, or on the other side of that deterioration.  In “One Day in the Life of Dr. Ivan Jones,” we feel the confusion and disorientation of a retired neurosurgeon with dementia, as well as his physician son’s grief and struggle with his father’s loss of self. In “Old Dogs,” an aging surgeon has shaky hands and battles through a difficult aneurysm repair with scrutiny from an audience in the OR.   We are asked to consider the value of life as absolute or relative— for a hemorrhaging Jehovah’s Witness patient where transfusion might negate an eternal afterlife; for a death row inmate needing intubation in the setting of scarce resources in a pandemic ridden emergency room. In “India’s Passage,” there is a gripping account of a young woman’s death during a routine laparoscopic surgery, and the oppressive guilt felt by the surgeon as well as the extreme grief and judgment of the woman’s mother.  Ultimately there is reconciliation, but no character emerges unchanged from this tragedy.  

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Daly Walker MD is retired from a general surgery practice in Indiana. He is a graduate of Indiana University Medical school and served his residency at the University of Wisconsin. He served as a battalion surgeon in the Vietnam War. A fiction writer, his stories have appeared in numerous literary publication including The Atlantic. “Resuscitation,” one of the stories in The Doctor’s Dilemma, appeared in the FALL 2020 Intima. 

Author photo: Sally Carpenter

Stories also focus on morality with physicians trying to do the “right” thing for their patients and their loved ones and neighbors.  In “Drumlins,” an older surgeon physically marred by skin cancer surgery compassionately treats a young woman losing her breast from cancer.  In “Jacob’s Ladder,” a retired orthopedic surgeon who lives a solitary life in the woods, having lost his wife, pines for the companionship of a young woman and ultimately saves her from an abusive partner and her son from the consequences of retribution. The idea of responsibilities of son and father comes out in several stories: In “Crystal Apple,” a physician who recently lost his mother is startled by the discovery that his father is not who he thought and grapples with his origins.   In “Nui ba Den,” a surgeon reconvenes with a lover from his time in Vietnam decades later, and contemplates how the past influenced him and how his present self views the past.  Mortality and morality are intertwined in “Blood,” where a mother adamantly refused blood transfusion for her critically ill Jehovah’s Witness son who is a minor; in “Pascals Law” where a physician intubates a man on death row; and in “Resuscitation” (first published in the Fall 2020 Intima) where a man stricken by Covid is intubated though other patients may have a greater likelihood of survival. 

There is an immediacy to Dr. Daly’s imagery and language; his prose style is straightforward and deceptively simple in light of the issues he addresses, as this passage about a doctor’s thoughts after a challenging day at the hospital from “Resuscitation” demonstrates:

On his way home, Slater drove through the rain. The silent, empty streets and unlit shops conveyed an aura of apocalypse. The drops that splattered his windshield reminded him of contaminated droplets spewing from Mr. Bertini’s lungs. The car’s wipers slapped side to side. Slater had read Camus’ The Plague, and he felt like Dr. Rieux traveling through his plague-stricken city, finding it hard to believe that pestilence had crashed down on its people. He came to Shoofly, a chic bar and restaurant. Through a water-speckled window, he could see young people laughing and drinking, crowded together without masks. Their gaiety and disregard for the virus angered Slater. Don’t they care about others? He blamed them for him not being able to hug his children or sleep with his wife. He blamed them for Mr. Bertini’s illness. He wished they could see his patient and know what fighting for your life is like.

A Doctor’s Dilemma brings fresh insight and reflection to enduring themes of medical and surgical care—how to be human and have immense responsibility for one’s patients; how to balance the personal and professional knowing that perfection is impossible; and how to forgive oneself for that imperfection knowing that good intentions and hard work may need to be sufficient.— Eli Hyams MD 

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Elias Hyams MD is an adjunct associate professor of urology and a robotic surgeon at The Warren Alpert School of Medicine at Brown University in Providence, RI.  He has previously served on the faculties of Dartmouth’s Geisel School of Medicine and Columbia University School of Medicine.  He completed his undergraduate studies at Yale and is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine.  His residency at New York University-Langone Medical Center was followed by a fellowship at John’s Hopkins. His academic interest lie diagnosis and treatment of cancer of the prostate.

Narrative in Social Work Practice: The Power and Possibility of Story. Edited by Ann Burack-Weiss, Lynn Sara Lawrence and Lynne Bamat-Mijangos. Foreword by Rita Charon

Narrative in Social Work Practice: The Power and Possibility of Story by Ann Burack-Weiss, Lynn Sara Lawrence and Lynne Bamat Mijangos.

She is 7. She is small…yet she fills the entire room…this child…has been raped... But she is still sturdy, she still smiles…this child of 7 is a giant, a superhero." —Social worker Kristen Slesar, writing about a young client

 “My mother and I are on our way to the store. A gnome, dressed in curly-toed shoes, striped stockings, and pointy cap, waits on the sidewalk. He tries to pinch me. My mother cannot see the gnome. I try to hide, wrapping myself in her skirt…” —Social worker Lynne Mijangos, describing a dream she had                   

In a wonderful  new book, Narrative in Social Work Practice: The Power and Possibility of Story (Columbia University Press, 2017), editors Ann Burack-Weiss, Lynn Sara Lawrence and Lynne Bamat Mijangos have gathered intimate, first-person accounts by social workers who have found creative ways to integrate narrative techniques into their work.

In some chapters, the social workers describe how they have developed and used narrative interventions with a wide range of individuals, families, and groups facing a variety of life challenges. In others, they share how they have turned their narrative skills inward and used them to deepen their self-understanding. In each instance, they use the tools of narrative training—close reading, attentive listening, reflective writing, and bearing witness to suffering —to help themselves and others confront and overcome external and internal barriers.

In one chapter, social worker Lauren Taylor uses psychotherapy and oral history to help clients find deeper meaning in their lives. Taylor describes her work with Marvlous, an African American woman who is depressed and in pain. As they talk, Taylor realizes that this sharp 95-year-old is a living historical archive. Working together, Taylor helps Marvlous, who at first thinks she has nothing much to say, recount and preserve the story she and her ancestors played in African American history. Taylor also describes her work with Joe, a 68-year-old man who is contemplating suicide. In the course of their work, Joe, who always dreamed of becoming an actor, writes and performs in a triumphant one-man show about his life.

Demonstrating the cross-border potential of narrative medicine, Benaifer Bhada talks about the narrative work she did with HIV-infected truck drivers in Kenya, and how participation in the group helped the men overcome feelings of shame and isolation, enabling them to seek appropriate treatment.

What do these stories have in common? In eloquent fashion, they all demonstrate how sharing our stories can help us break out of isolation and find our voices and our communities—at every stage of life —even as our bodies and cognitive abilities begin to deteriorate. Working with adults with dementia, Mary Hume uses poetry, co-constructed by the group, to express themselves, affirm their own value and continue to participate in their community:

“I like the smell of lilacs in May time;

 For me that’s the best playtime

I like to bake crullers that are bestsellers

I like to throw confetti when they’re serving spaghetti…”

—Social worker Mary Hume, co-creating poetry with clients in dementia care

Some readers will want to dip in and out of these stories, which will give them a sense of the benefits of narrative practice in social work. But once one starts reading the stories, it's hard to skip around and instead read straight through. Each story is rich in its unique details and emotional truthfulness, making the book hard to put down.—Nelly Edmondson

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NELLY EDMONDSON is a graduate of the Narrative Medicine Master's program at Columbia University. She also is an award-winning editor and writer with extensive experience covering medical topics for print and online outlets. In addition to serving as a staff editor at publications such as Weight Watchers Magazine and Ladies’ Home Journal, she has written articles for the The New York Times, Parents, MAMM Magazine, as well as medical-school websites and publications such as Einstein Magazine and The Chironian. http://www.nellyedmondson.com