The Pain Lady’s Wisdom

That’s not her in the photo, but it brings her to mind. She keeps her name quiet—says she’s not looking to stir up trouble with the medical world. In her cozy home, she helps people with chronic pain, seeing them day in and day out. She used to teach middle school science, and in a way, she’s never stopped teaching.

Her work reminds me of a nutritionist guiding someone through a new diet. She focuses on pain relief without leaning on prescription pills. A friend with arthritis introduced me to her after my own treatments left me worn out. I didn’t meet her until the worst of my ordeal was over.

She shared what she knew, weaving in wisdom from her upbringing near a rural community where herbal remedies were common. Her grandmother was close with local healers, and she learned their ways early on.

She was welcomed into their circle, picked up some of their language, and got to know their stories, their humor, and their remedies—like willow bark for inflammation and turmeric for joints.

When we first sat down, she talked about how stress can tighten up the body. She said chronic pain often ties to cortisol spikes and suggested I try ashwagandha tea to calm things down. I’ve been drinking it for about five years now.

What I noticed is it steadies my nerves. I skip it for a weekend sometimes, and by the second day, I’m edgy, snapping at small things. Once I start sipping again, it’s like my patience comes back in a day or two. So, I keep it stocked.

After my treatments, I kept getting flare-ups—aches that wouldn’t quit. She suggested arnica salve, something her grandmother swore by. Arnica’s an old remedy, named for the mountain flower it comes from. She said it was passed down from people who knew the land.

If I wake up stiff or my knees start acting up, I rub on the salve, and within an hour, I’m moving easier. If I run out, the aches creep back. I don’t let it run low anymore.

She also told me to check my magnesium levels and try fish oil. I got tested later, and sure enough, my magnesium was barely there. My doctor put me on a supplement—400 mg a day—and said low magnesium is common after heavy treatments. Fish oil, she said, keeps the joints from grinding. I take it daily now, per my rheumatologist’s advice.

Since those tests came after my treatments, I don’t know if I was low before or if the meds drained me. I was also wiped out back then, barely climbing stairs. My doctor at the time said to eat more greens for energy—no pills for that anymore.

I saw her last week. I called to book a visit, left a voicemail, and got a call back the next morning—she had an opening the following day. When I arrived, she was finishing a quick call with another client.

We settled in, and I told her I was struggling with sleep—waking up at 3 a.m., mind racing. She asked if I’d checked my thyroid recently. I had, back in October. She asked if we’d tweaked anything based on the results.

I said no, everything looked steady. She nodded, then asked me to send her the numbers again—she sees so many labs, they blur together.

Then she asked if I’d tried a warm foot soak before bed. She pointed to a bag of Epsom salts on her shelf, one I’d bought from her ages ago but never opened. I admitted I hadn’t used it—I sleep okay most nights, so I didn’t think I needed it.

She smiled and said it’s not just about sleep—it’s about grounding the body. Then she explained why. Alright, I thought, I’ll give it a shot. If I don’t like it, I’ll just order another bag.

Next, we got to teas. She offered me a cup of ginger—she’d just brewed some. I mentioned a health coach I’d heard who warned that ginger might spike my blood sugar. She shook her head and said fresh ginger, steeped right, has compounds that ease inflammation, not harm.

She draws from the work of folks like Ann Wigmore, who studied how plants can heal. Wigmore’s ideas came from watching nature and listening to elders in the 1940s and 50s. National Institutes of Health archives mention her.

Ann Wigmore founded a way of eating—living foods, she called it—to clear out the body’s junk and let it fight pain on its own. Her books, like *The Sprouting Book*, lay it all out. The Hippocrates Institute, started by Wigmore, keeps her work alive, teaching people how to use raw plants for health.

When I first met my friend, the “Pain Lady,” she told me she’d gone to a Hippocrates center for her own pain—fibromyalgia that doctors couldn’t tame. She’s been pain-free for 28 years now. She said her migraines vanished first, almost overnight.

Her joint pain took longer—about nine months to fade. She had all her checkups done at a clinic in Boston. They pushed for steroids, but she’d already read Wigmore’s work and wanted to try that path instead.

She’s been guiding people with pain ever since she got better.

With pain that’s manageable but stubborn, I’m so grateful I found the “Pain Lady.” I was diagnosed in 2014, and after a recent scan showed no new damage, I credit her—not the specialists I see twice a year.