CRPS recovery, My Descent Into Pain and the Long Climb Back

February 2024 at the age of 34— the thoughts started to come. Every day, while walking, I would think: If I just stepped in front of this tram, it would be over. I thought it on the way to the store, on the way home, every single day.

Now August 2025, I have told months I told myself I’d share my recovery story once I was fully healed. But I realized my story could save a life. Without finding Tamara’s book where she defeats CRPS, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to go on. Knowing others healed gave me something to cling to.

So here is, hopefully, some inspiration for others: for anyone in pain, desperate, scared, counting hours, that healing is possible. For me it was messy slow and full of setbacks. I thought I was too far gone, my pain to different yet I healed.


This is my story:

In 2016, after a weekend of acrobatic yoga, an old rugby shoulder injury flared up. Not new pain — I’d dislocated it years earlier, done my physio, moved on. Usually, these flare-ups went away after a few weeks of therapy. This time it didn’t.

The pain spread to my back in a strange way, it like something deep under the muscles, and it was worse when lying flat. For months I searched for answers, tried every doctor and therapy I could find in Switzerland, but nothing worked. Eventually, it eased enough… if I never lay on my back again. For the next eight years, I slept only on my side.

By 2023 my back pain had became chronic. Waking up in the night, staring at the ceiling, every position felt wrong. The diagnosis: syringomyelia. It was seen in my MRI by a fluid-filled cavity formed within the spinal cord. The neurologist said, “Nothing to do but take pregabalin.” His solution was for me to take a numbing medication for the rest of my life. Instead, I flew to Peru — six months in the jungle with shamans, doing everything I could to heal. And it worked. Slowly, my back got better. I thought I was free.

Then my wrist started

Late 2023, without the back pain I started partner acrobatic again with my wife. Easy moves at first. Then, with one jump on the beach. I heard a crack. My wrist bent too far. There was some pain. I started taping it and being careful. I had, had wrist problems in the past, last time it was almost two years before I could use my wrist and the whole time it was over sensitive to any touch or movement. Now looking back most likely it was also mind body.

A week after the incident, sitting in the back of a bumpy truck, my hand bent the wrong way again. Warmth flooding the joint. I was getting more frightened, would this develop into another multi year issue? Days later, leaning back on my hands, I heard the crack again. Less mobility. I could no longer hold a fork. Nights I had stabbing pain. By January 2024, I couldn’t move my fingers and my hand was extremely swollen.

The pain didn’t stop. Ever. Not for sleep. Not for distraction. It stabbed and burned and throbbed in ways I can’t describe. I stopped enjoying the things I loved — even sex. I stopped seeing people. I started getting angry at everyone. I was jealous of everyone else, no matter their problems. I remember seeing someone without a hand and thinking I would rather be him.

That’s when the darker thoughts began to creep in. Walking through the city, I’d catch myself imagining how quickly everything could stop — with the help of a tram, a train, or a bus. The thought came on the way to the store, on the way home — again and again, every day.

I read that stem cells might help. Expensive. I didn’t care. I thought: At least try everything before I kill myself. I flew to Mexico. The injection hurt. I came back with a bit more movement, but no strength.

Then, back in Switzerland, finally came the diagnosis: CRPS. It’s nickname shows up in top google results as “the suicide disease.” My mother’s sister had taken her life. My mother did too. I wanted a diagnosis to heal, but I finally got one for a “disease” many doctor’s think is incurable. My anxiety sky rocketed.

I tried everything: Joe Dispenza retreats (trying to meditate while feeling like my hand was being stabbed with knives), hyperbaric oxygen, cold baths and fasting, PRP injections, shockwave therapy. In June 2024, I found Tamara’s book about her recovery from CRPS. Her story inspired me, and at the same time, I kept comparing: Mine is worse — that’s why I can’t get better. I looked deeper into mind-body work from Sarno and others. I spoke to many mind-body specialists. Most just told me, “Nothing is wrong with you,” but I felt I was too far gone.

Many of the mind body therapists were incredibly caring. I remember Rita, on the East Coast of the US, taking my calls when I felt like I couldn’t go on , after months without sleep, my body burning, and stabbing pain shooting through an arm I could no longer move. Her words gave me hope in one of my darkest moments, even though her techniques ultimately weren’t the right fit for me. Roger also took the time to talk to me, and it was nice to have a doctor confirm it was mind body. He gave me some hope, but I still felt stagnant.

In July 2024 I spoke to Dr. Stracks for the first time. In August 2024, I thought I couldn’t go on anymore. It was a battle just to get through a day, crying most of time electric like shocks through my body and not able to sleep. It felt as though my entire body was breaking down and I only had weeks to live even without taking my own life. Dr. Stracks said maybe I needed more support and suggested I go to a clinic. I didn’t want to. I had my own place and a loving partner, and I was afraid I would never come out. Instead, he built a daily support program for me. I talked to him or his team every single day; Erica the psychologist, and Michelle with somatic experiencing. Sometimes I’d be pacing in circles, crying, waiting for the call. It was an oasis on the edge of a desert. I even knew what Dr. Stracks was going to say: “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’ll get better.” I didn’t fully believe it, but I kept going, and these calls gave me hope.

Working with him, I started to push through my pain, doing more. I started tiny: one wall push-up on my knuckles so I wouldn’t bend my wrist. Terrified. Sweating. Heart racing. I would be on edge for hours if I thought I’d made it worse. Then, in a call, he told me, “You can’t hurt yourself with so little weight.” The next day I did two wall push-ups. Then three. I wrote it down on post-its, and put them up on my wall. Day by day. Week by week.

Six weeks later, I was on all fours, doing push-ups from my knees. In October I found a good physical therapist with experience healing CRPS. She helped me push myself more. By December I was doing handstands against the wall. Every step forward brought fear: Did I just undo months of healing? Did I wreck it again?

Meanwhile, my body kept throwing new hell at me: eczema spreading over my legs, stomach, back; CRPS bringing heat waves and electric shocks through my whole body; memories of my back pain lurking, ready to flare.

After four weeks of daily calls with Dr. Stracks’ team, I began reducing my meetings as I improved. After five weeks, it was three times a week. After eight weeks, I spoke to him once a week, and shortly after that, only occasionally.

Although improving, I wanted to go faster, so I even tried bee sting therapy. One sting on my wrist swelled it up again. Instant panic: Eight months gone, Chris. You’ve ruined everything. Luckily, my physio saw me right away, calmed me down, and reminded me: I was okay. A week later, the swelling was gone.

Through it all, my wife Charlot never left. She came to retreats and specialists with me. Opened jars when I couldn’t. Held me when I was shaking and told me, “You’re going to get better.” She took the brunt of my fear, my anger, my sleepless nights. Without her, I don’t know if I’d be here.

Now, in the summer of 2025, I can say I rarely hesitate to use my hand normally. Only occasionally do I feel what I’d rate as a 2/10 — and since I stopped using the word “pain,” I call it an uncomfortable sensation or pressure. Occasionally my body and mind act up. Just last week I had a stabbing sensation in my other shoulder and low back pressure. Knowing what it is and with a support call from Dr. Stracks, I pushed through, doing more sports, and after a week it was better. My eczema is acting up a fair amount. But I can move. I can ski. I can sleep better.

The most helpful tools for me to heal:

I liked Dr. Stracks’ updated take on Sarno’s work. Sarno was against other therapies such as physical therapy, but Dr. Stracks told me that as long as I understood my body was healthy and my sensations were safe, other therapies could also help. For me, it was important to feel I was doing everything possible. Once I realized my pain was mind-body, I didnt stop other therapies but I approached the therapies differently. For example, hyperbaric oxygen was no longer just “bringing oxygen to my wrist,” it was also to my brain, to help me heal my thinking faster. I started putting red light on my head instead of my wrist. I don’t know if that was helpful or necessary but I believe at least the extra therapy with understanding that my body was healthy didn’t hurt.

My last physical therapist was also excellent, constantly encouraging me to increase movement and strength in my hand. Keeping track of all exercises helped, I knew if I didn’t injure myself doing two push-ups on the wall yesterday, I couldn’t injure myself doing one more today.

Somatic tracking was also very helpful for me. I did it all the time. During walks, I would stop every 10 meters to check in with my left wrist, then switch to my right wrist:

1. To teach my brain that sensations in the left wrist were safe.
2. To teach it not to concentrate solely on those sensations.

I knew since a while I was not nice to myself, causing myself mental anguish. But I think it also led me to have physical pain, the constant stress of talking in a mean way to myself. Kristin Neff's Workbook on self compassion was helpful for that. The most important was catching my negativity thoughts and congratulating myself on that. To break the cycle of being hard on myself then hard on myself for being hard on myself.

The book Overcoming Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts from Seif and Winston was also helpful getting out of the cycle of mean conversations in my head. There I learned I will have conversations in my head where: When I am worried then another voice in my head tries to counter with everything is alright. The only way for me to get out of it, was to realize I can't really know what will happen and my brain will argue with itself if I let it. So just accept both could be true, put it to the side and know this thought will most likely reoccur again.

I had heard from many practitioners something along the lines "just realize your body is healthy and start doing everything and forget about other therapies." That did not work for me.

 

Chris, what a fantastic story of recovery from CRPS! Congratulations, and thank you for posting your guidebook to recovery!

I would like to get your permission to post your testimony on the Thank you, Dr. Sarno! site (we will have to trim it to fit the format of that site), and also on the DefeatCRPS.com site, where it can be posted as-is.

 

yes. please do that. Your story was inspiring and I know more examples of recovery will help others.