Chapters from the Book: (click here for table of contents)
From: The Daily Breeze News - Ian Hanigan, reporter
A few million steps in the fight against pain ...
Dennis Kinch nears Santa Monica, the end of a 2,300-mile walk from Chicago, in his quest to spread awareness of chronic pain. Kinch himself has a bone disorder and a progressive form of arthritis.
By Ian Hanigan
Daily Breeze
Sometimes, he doesn't even notice the pain. Other times, it feels like a fork of lightning in his legs or hot coals pressed against the middle of his spine.
But Dennis Kinch won't turn back. When his body is willing, he walks. And he walks and he walks and he walks.
He's walked all the way from Chicago, in fact, hauling his often-ailing body and his trademark wheelbarrow along historic Route 66. The journey will end when he reaches Santa Monica on Friday.
The approximately 2,300-mile trek, which began in September, has been sponsored by the National Pain Foundation. Step by step, city by city, state by state, his mission is this:
Kinch, who was diagnosed in 2004 with a bone disorder and a progressive form of arthritis, hopes to raise public awareness of chronic pain and the treatment options available.
"I'm just trying to move this (discussion) along a little bit because I don't think we should lose the American dream over being disabled with pain," he said Wednesday in Torrance.
He's spent nine months on the road, crossed eight states and worn out seven pairs of shoes in the process. You might call it a publicity stunt -- and that won't bother the goatee-wearing 51-year-old as long as his message is heard.
Patients, he says, mustn't let pain control their lives. They should educate themselves about the medicines and therapies available and have faith in their treatments.
And doctors, he says, shouldn't subscribe to a one-size-fits-all approach; they've got to listen to each sufferer, and believe them, before figuring out what works best.
Kinch said too many have lost their jobs, their homes and their identities to pain. A couple of years ago, he was one of them.
"There's people out there losing a lot, and there's no need for that," he said.
Though he spoke in Torrance, Kinch's footprints haven't dotted the South Bay exactly. Rather, with just two days to go before the conclusion of his walk, he took a quick side trip from Pasadena -- in a sedan, no less -- to talk to the patients and staff at the Peninsula Pain Management Center on Crenshaw Boulevard.
Arriving tanned but looking less weathered than you'd expect, he was welcomed by Dr. Ripu D. Arora, a local pain-management expert who praised Kinch's efforts.
"A lot of people still don't know there is so much available in our new field of pain management, so I think it's excellent," Arora said. He noted that his own practice uses a multipronged approach that includes drugs, physical therapy, psychotherapy, nerve blocks and even radio-frequency treatments that interrupt pain signals before they reach the brain.
According to the National Pain Foundation, about 75 million Americans suffer from chronic pain diseases or disorders.
Mary Pat Aardrup, the foundation's executive director, said many feel a lack of validation because theirs is an "invisible disease."
Those affected generally don't wear bandages, she said, nor do they suffer telltale symptoms such as hair loss. Which is why Kinch's trip is so important.
"Anything that we can do to help families and friends, employers, insurance companies, providers, government entities -- anything that we can do to help raise their awareness about the plight of a person in pain, and the far-reaching implications that pain can have on their lives, we are behind," Aardrup said.
Though Kinch, of Attleboro, Mass., had some back problems in the mid-1990s, he says his real, gut-wrenching pain flared in 2001, when he was living in Colorado. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be diagnosed for nearly four more years.
In the meantime, his life spiraled downward. He lost his job as a machine operator, he lost custody of his kids and his finances collapsed.
Shortly after he moved back to his home state of Massachusetts, he was homeless and entertaining thoughts of suicide.
"I kept saying, 'How can things get worse?' And it just kept getting worse for four years," he said.
In November 2004, Kinch was finally diagnosed with a bone disorder called Paget's disease and a progressive inflammatory arthritis called ankylosing spondylitis that affects the spine and sacroiliac joints.
But just figuring out what was wrong didn't erase the pain. Kinch said doctors had to find the right combination of medications, and his rehab program at Massachusetts General Hospital -- where he qualified for state-funded treatment -- helped improve his state of mind.
"The pain is never going to go away, but I've turned the amplifier way down," he said.
Kinch said his stint in rehab taught him just how lucky he was to be able to walk with Paget's disease, and the exercise seemed to make him feel better. So he decided walking would be a part of his life.
With that epiphany, he hoofed it from Boston to Washington, D.C., to raise awareness. The end result was a ravaged body.
"I learned a lot of lessons from that first walk," he said.
Specifically, Kinch discovered that the key is doing as much -- or as little -- as you can each day. While Americans are so conditioned to constantly paddle upstream, he said, chronic-pain sufferers have to learn to listen to their bodies, to know when to surrender for the greater good.
He put those lessons into practice on his second walk, which began on Sept. 19.
Some days, when his legs were willing, he walked as many as 60 miles west. Other days, he'd rest at 5 miles, sketching or reading until the pain subsided.
"It's a step-by-step thing," Kinch said. "It's now become a philosophy, not just a saying."
That philosophy carried him through bitterly cold Missouri, where the mercury fell 22 degrees below freezing, and through Needles, where he endured 120 degrees of blast-furnace heat.
Pulling his blue wheelbarrow, which was usually filled with five days worth of food, clothes and camping supplies, he also trekked through Illinois, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona, marveling all the while at how the landscapes seem to change right at each new state's doorstep.
In between his frequent stops to speak at medical clinics, he burned through seven pairs of Ozark Trail hiking shoes, all purchased for around $10 at Wal-Mart outlets.
Each new set of treads led him to more friendly faces, Kinch said, and he plans to take a future trip to visit many of the folks he met -- though he'll likely travel by car the next time.
"I'm from the East Coast, so I wasn't used to nice people," he said, laughing.
Even though his wheelbarrow was stolen once, he said the only real lowlight occurred just as he crossed into Sanders, Ariz.
It was about 4 in the morning when an ibuprofen-fueled ulcer in his small intestine hemorrhaged. Kinch said he lost about a third of his blood in just a few minutes.
"That was April Fools' Day, I'll never forget it," he recalled. "I almost died."
But he lived to walk another day, another week, another three months, actually.
When all is said and done, Kinch estimates he'll have taken 6 million to 7 million steps, the last of which will take him from Reed Park in Santa Monica to the Third Street Promenade.
He'll be at the park at 10 a.m. Friday, he said, and he encouraged anyone in the area to take those final paces with him.
"It's been a long journey," he said during his stop in Torrance. "I'm almost sad it's going to be over."
Dennis Kinch nears Santa Monica, the end of a 2,300-mile walk from Chicago, in his quest to spread awareness of chronic pain. Kinch himself has a bone disorder and a progressive form of arthritis.
By Ian Hanigan
Daily Breeze
Sometimes, he doesn't even notice the pain. Other times, it feels like a fork of lightning in his legs or hot coals pressed against the middle of his spine.
But Dennis Kinch won't turn back. When his body is willing, he walks. And he walks and he walks and he walks.
He's walked all the way from Chicago, in fact, hauling his often-ailing body and his trademark wheelbarrow along historic Route 66. The journey will end when he reaches Santa Monica on Friday.
The approximately 2,300-mile trek, which began in September, has been sponsored by the National Pain Foundation. Step by step, city by city, state by state, his mission is this:
Kinch, who was diagnosed in 2004 with a bone disorder and a progressive form of arthritis, hopes to raise public awareness of chronic pain and the treatment options available.
"I'm just trying to move this (discussion) along a little bit because I don't think we should lose the American dream over being disabled with pain," he said Wednesday in Torrance.
He's spent nine months on the road, crossed eight states and worn out seven pairs of shoes in the process. You might call it a publicity stunt -- and that won't bother the goatee-wearing 51-year-old as long as his message is heard.
Patients, he says, mustn't let pain control their lives. They should educate themselves about the medicines and therapies available and have faith in their treatments.
And doctors, he says, shouldn't subscribe to a one-size-fits-all approach; they've got to listen to each sufferer, and believe them, before figuring out what works best.
Kinch said too many have lost their jobs, their homes and their identities to pain. A couple of years ago, he was one of them.
"There's people out there losing a lot, and there's no need for that," he said.
Though he spoke in Torrance, Kinch's footprints haven't dotted the South Bay exactly. Rather, with just two days to go before the conclusion of his walk, he took a quick side trip from Pasadena -- in a sedan, no less -- to talk to the patients and staff at the Peninsula Pain Management Center on Crenshaw Boulevard.
Arriving tanned but looking less weathered than you'd expect, he was welcomed by Dr. Ripu D. Arora, a local pain-management expert who praised Kinch's efforts.
"A lot of people still don't know there is so much available in our new field of pain management, so I think it's excellent," Arora said. He noted that his own practice uses a multipronged approach that includes drugs, physical therapy, psychotherapy, nerve blocks and even radio-frequency treatments that interrupt pain signals before they reach the brain.
According to the National Pain Foundation, about 75 million Americans suffer from chronic pain diseases or disorders.
Mary Pat Aardrup, the foundation's executive director, said many feel a lack of validation because theirs is an "invisible disease."
Those affected generally don't wear bandages, she said, nor do they suffer telltale symptoms such as hair loss. Which is why Kinch's trip is so important.
"Anything that we can do to help families and friends, employers, insurance companies, providers, government entities -- anything that we can do to help raise their awareness about the plight of a person in pain, and the far-reaching implications that pain can have on their lives, we are behind," Aardrup said.
Though Kinch, of Attleboro, Mass., had some back problems in the mid-1990s, he says his real, gut-wrenching pain flared in 2001, when he was living in Colorado. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be diagnosed for nearly four more years.
In the meantime, his life spiraled downward. He lost his job as a machine operator, he lost custody of his kids and his finances collapsed.
Shortly after he moved back to his home state of Massachusetts, he was homeless and entertaining thoughts of suicide.
"I kept saying, 'How can things get worse?' And it just kept getting worse for four years," he said.
In November 2004, Kinch was finally diagnosed with a bone disorder called Paget's disease and a progressive inflammatory arthritis called ankylosing spondylitis that affects the spine and sacroiliac joints.
But just figuring out what was wrong didn't erase the pain. Kinch said doctors had to find the right combination of medications, and his rehab program at Massachusetts General Hospital -- where he qualified for state-funded treatment -- helped improve his state of mind.
"The pain is never going to go away, but I've turned the amplifier way down," he said.
Kinch said his stint in rehab taught him just how lucky he was to be able to walk with Paget's disease, and the exercise seemed to make him feel better. So he decided walking would be a part of his life.
With that epiphany, he hoofed it from Boston to Washington, D.C., to raise awareness. The end result was a ravaged body.
"I learned a lot of lessons from that first walk," he said.
Specifically, Kinch discovered that the key is doing as much -- or as little -- as you can each day. While Americans are so conditioned to constantly paddle upstream, he said, chronic-pain sufferers have to learn to listen to their bodies, to know when to surrender for the greater good.
He put those lessons into practice on his second walk, which began on Sept. 19.
Some days, when his legs were willing, he walked as many as 60 miles west. Other days, he'd rest at 5 miles, sketching or reading until the pain subsided.
"It's a step-by-step thing," Kinch said. "It's now become a philosophy, not just a saying."
That philosophy carried him through bitterly cold Missouri, where the mercury fell 22 degrees below freezing, and through Needles, where he endured 120 degrees of blast-furnace heat.
Pulling his blue wheelbarrow, which was usually filled with five days worth of food, clothes and camping supplies, he also trekked through Illinois, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona, marveling all the while at how the landscapes seem to change right at each new state's doorstep.
In between his frequent stops to speak at medical clinics, he burned through seven pairs of Ozark Trail hiking shoes, all purchased for around $10 at Wal-Mart outlets.
Each new set of treads led him to more friendly faces, Kinch said, and he plans to take a future trip to visit many of the folks he met -- though he'll likely travel by car the next time.
"I'm from the East Coast, so I wasn't used to nice people," he said, laughing.
Even though his wheelbarrow was stolen once, he said the only real lowlight occurred just as he crossed into Sanders, Ariz.
It was about 4 in the morning when an ibuprofen-fueled ulcer in his small intestine hemorrhaged. Kinch said he lost about a third of his blood in just a few minutes.
"That was April Fools' Day, I'll never forget it," he recalled. "I almost died."
But he lived to walk another day, another week, another three months, actually.
When all is said and done, Kinch estimates he'll have taken 6 million to 7 million steps, the last of which will take him from Reed Park in Santa Monica to the Third Street Promenade.
He'll be at the park at 10 a.m. Friday, he said, and he encouraged anyone in the area to take those final paces with him.
"It's been a long journey," he said during his stop in Torrance. "I'm almost sad it's going to be over."