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Opinion: I’m a neurosurgeon. I’ve learned pain and suffering are very different things

By · Via STAT Health · Published by Everything Blog

In short

While modern medicine effectively targets physical pain pathways with pharmaceuticals and surgery, it frequently fails to resolve the personal suffering that compromises a patient's personhood. Recent data demonstrates that existential concerns like loss of control, rather than physical agony, predominantly push terminally ill individuals toward assisted death. Addressing this crisis requires clinicians to build therapeutic connections that help patients reshape the personal meaning of their conditions, restoring emotional wholeness even when somatic pain persists.

Key points

  • Physical pain and personal suffering operate through entirely different brain pathways an…: Physical pain and personal suffering operate through entirely different brain pathways and require distinct medical approaches.
  • Loss of independence and diminished ability to enjoy life drive assisted dying decisions…: Loss of independence and diminished ability to enjoy life drive assisted dying decisions far more than unmanaged physical agony.
  • Healthcare providers can relieve suffering without eliminating physical pain by altering…: Healthcare providers can relieve suffering without eliminating physical pain by altering its personal meaning and treating the whole person.

Sources checked by our analysis pipeline: 1

John (not his real name) was in his mid-60s, a VA patient with chronic back pain. After three surgeries by three different surgeons over about five years, he was no better off; his lumbar spine was littered with arthritis and titanium implants. He had made the rounds again, to physical therapists, chiropractors, and pain providers, and now he was in my office. The last thing he needed was more surgery.

The more gently I explained, the angrier he became. He left looking like a man betrayed by the system. He wanted me to “do something” and to “fix it.” I could do neither.

After 30 years in practice, you would think that I would have perfected the “I can’t help you” speech. I haven’t, and God forbid I fall into the trap of a canned speech to a suffering patient whom I cannot make better.

I often question myself after such an encounter. Did I help this patient even though I could not fix the problem? Or did I just add another layer of suffering?

In a 1982 essay in…

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