This artwork captures the visceral experience of pain and delirium in the intensive care unit (ICU). A woman lies in her hospital bed, her skin flushed red, symbolizing agony the body’s distress under illness and medical intervention. Her hair transforms into a dense and tangled jungle — her mind is both sanctuary and a nightmare.

Through this piece, I explore the delicate balance between alleviating suffering and the cognitive consequences of sedation. The question “What do I do for pain?” is not only personal but deeply ethical. Physicians are tasked with understanding the evolving landscape of pain management. Recent evidence favors multimodal pain relief strategies over excessive sedation to reduce ICU delirium and cognitive impairment. The historical reliance on benzodiazepines is waning, while non-pharmacologic interventions such as early mobility gain favour.

This piece invites the viewer to step into this complex intersection of medicine, ethics, and human vulnerability—where every decision carries consequences, and relief is often inseparable from consequences.

Living with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome requires strength, poise, and flexibility. This piece reflects the experience of hypermobility—where every step feels as precarious as walking on ice. Though extreme flexibility may appear graceful, it masks the reality of chronic pain and instability, creating a disconnect between how I feel and how I’m perceived.

What I do for pain remains largely invisible. Behind this image is the effort no one sees—pain management, rehabilitation, pacing, and the constant organizing of care. Every movement is calculated, every day shaped by the need to balance activity and rest. Yet, to the outside world, only the illusion of ease remains. This image captures that paradox—the beauty that hides the struggle, the unseen work behind each moment of apparent grace.

Observing the world provides a sense of serenity and connection with my environment. Capturing the details of these surroundings allows me to integrate the ordinary and the extraordinary, generating new awareness. Being introspective engenders further layers of perception and appreciation.

These are keys not only to my creativity but also to communicating and fostering a deeper understanding – for others and myself – of my lived experience with persistent pain.

A succulent pomegranate sliced open shows the beauty that is hidden within even everyday objects, and ourselves. No matter how many times it is sliced into, there is beauty to be found. Beauty is all around us, and we choose what we give our attention to. Changing our viewpoint can reveal beautiful hidden inner worlds.

It all depends on the viewers's perspective and life experiences. I see it both as the person walking towards the light from within a dark space, or from the perspective of the viewer you see others that are far ahead of you at the end of the tunnel but you still haven't traversed it yet.

Poem with subtle reference to end of life and living with chronic pain. Read the full poem here.

Hidden Pain is one part of a 3-part collage series I created to explore complex feelings around living with chronic pain and my lived experience with medical professionals. Using my own photographs printed in colour and black and white, the rocky terrain shows the general environment of dealing with pain as hard to navigate. Using the combination of imaged in colour and black and white is meant to illustrate what we can see with pain (colour) and what is hidden (black and white). The very nature of collage allows for the layering of images and to decide how much is shown and leaves the viewer wondering what is layered underneath. The words selected show the dichotomy of what we are led to believe about medicine and the expectation of help vs. my personal experience of finding no help and having my pain dismissed.

Pain comes to us at different times, in different ways, and all of us handle it differently. Arthritis has limited what I can manage in my life; but I recall other pains, such as searing cramps during my monthly cycles accompanied by blinding migraines; and pains incurred by bad choices - a pair of sexy heels that threw my back out for three months, or vending machine food. Often you want to cry; sometimes you just have to laugh. Me, I use words to express both pain and pleasure.

La douleur s’apprivoise lentement et il faut lui donner de l’amour comme à une plante. Un jour, on peut voir la floraison de nos efforts. Mais attention, trop lui donner peut être tout aussi néfaste que de ne pas lui en donner suffisamment. Trouver le juste milieu est le défi de toute une vie.

My journey and voice in pain research - Mon expérience enfin entendue

Among the thorns hope may bloom. As someone living with Chronic Pain for almost 8 years, the incessant tangle of fighting, managing and coping with pain that invades all facets of my life, but I lean into hope that support from my health professionals, love from family and friends can help me to cope with the hardest days.

Those moments when you can see a glimpse of yourself in a good light despite the pain. The space between believing that you deserve to take care of yourself… the evidence that its ok to be you.

A poignant narrative that delves into the multifaceted journey of managing and overcoming pain through physiotherapy. The story begins with the protagonist stepping into a clinic, a sanctuary of hope and healing, seeking relief from their persistent pain. This piece vividly captures the physical and emotional challenges faced by the patient, offering a comprehensive exploration of the theme "What do I do for pain?"

Through detailed descriptions of the physiotherapy sessions, the narrative illustrates the various techniques employed to address pain, from gentle massages to intense joint mobilizations. Each session is a testament to the patient's resilience and determination as they push through discomfort and frustration to find solace and recovery.

Read the full poem here.(https://static.wixstatic.com/media/21223c_f36dde1980444af59de9e0d852dcd4e6~mv2.png)
This poem explores the deep and persistent nature of pain, both personal and collective. It reflects on how pain exists within us—intimate, overwhelming, and often unheard. The poem emphasizes the power of creativity and empathy in addressing pain, not just for oneself but for others who endure it in silence. It conveys a message of resilience, hope, and the importance of acknowledging and understanding pain to inspire change and healing in the world.

This design was inspired by the theme of converging and diverging mechanisms in pain pathways. The motif of two schools of fish swimming through a stream, swirling together then apart, illustrates the idea that pain mechanisms are more complex than black and white, and rarely stay a straight course. At various levels, mechanisms can converge, diverge, and interact with each other, like these schools of fish. This illustration highlights the beauty and complexity of cellular and molecular pathways.

Embroidered Female Endo Reproductive System Anatomy

"Shine in the Darkness" depicts a heart surrounded by darkness, with arteries morphing into candles. One of the candles has burnt out – as the others eventually will, too – but, for now, the remaining ones shine; perhaps not as brightly as they could've shone had life been different, but as brightly as they can under the circumstances.

This self-portrait captures me sketching in the garden—my sanctuary—surrounded by nature on a warm, sunny day. I’m barefoot, as I love to be, fully immersed in the creative process. When my brachial neuritis flares, even holding a drawing tool can become impossible. Yet, when I can, I adapt—sometimes drawing with my non-dominant hand—because creating is essential to me. Art is my ultimate refuge from pain; as I lose myself in color, composition, and expression, the act of making overrides the relentless signals of neuropathy and neuralgia. In those moments, creativity becomes not just an escape, but a way to reclaim a sense of control and relief.

Based on the music of Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, conveys key insights about chronic pain, its psychological and neurological underpinnings, and its societal impact. The song’s narrative explores themes such as fear, catastrophization, and reliance on biomedical treatments while emphasizing self-empowerment, emotional regulation, and the role of neuroplasticity in recovery. The familiar melody ensures recognition and emotional connection, while the new lyrics deliver an educational and relatable message.

This song was written as a personal reflection following a car accident, which catalyzed an understanding of pain mechanisms and the mindset required for recovery. It combines a scientific perspective with a hopeful message, demonstrating how personal experience can inspire others. The performance is brought to life by a young band of university students living in dormitories, with members from diverse ethnic backgrounds, including Russia, Ukraine, and Mongolia.

Approximately 1 in 12 Canadian children are born prematurely, often requiring extended stays in Neonatal Intensive Care Units (NICUs). These early beginnings can have profound impacts on their physical, cognitive, and emotional development. Very and extremely preterm infants endure more painful procedures and longer hospital stays compared to full-term babies. In 2023, the World Health Organization (WHO) emphasized the importance of at least 8 hours of daily skin-to-skin contact for preterm infants, highlighting benefits such as reduced neonatal mortality, enhanced brain development, and improved parental mental health. However, the fragility of very preterm infants and their reliance on medical devices like ventilators and feeding tubes create significant barriers to providing this essential care. These challenges add to parental stress and complicate distress regulation for infants. This artwork reflects the delicate balance of hope and struggle in caring for preterm infants, honouring their resilience and the strength of their families.

Through the imagery of a mother swan guiding her three cygnets across a calm yet rippling lake, this watercolour piece attempts to capture a patient's  journey of finding relief from pain. The flowing watercolours represent how pain ebbs and flows, affecting both body and mind. The mother swan symbolizes strength, leading her young through uncertain waters, much like how people facing pain rely on support and connection to navigate their challenges. The ripples around them show how pain doesn’t just affect one person—it impacts families, caregivers, and communities. Each colour in the piece tells part of a patient's story: deep blues for moments of despair, warm yellows for sparks of hope, and soft greys for moments of reflection. Inspired by the theme "Shared Horizons: What do I do for pain?" this artwork highlights the importance of care, resilience, and the strength we find in each other when facing life’s struggles.

"The Monarch's Garden" is a testament to resilience, where beauty flourishes. Two monarch butterflies, symbols of transformation and hope, grace a vibrant sunflower patch. The stained-glass-inspired background, with its intricate patterns and luminous colors, reflects the complex layers of lived experience, both the fragility and the enduring strength. This painting explores the power of art to transcend physical limitations, capturing the enduring strength of the human spirit to find joy and beauty in the world around us.

It’s 2am. I’m in pain, or maybe one of my kids is in pain. Either way – it’s painsomnia. Laying on the bathroom floor, hoping the flare will pass, I stare out the skylight and rail against the universe for torturing us like this. I breathe. I breathe more slowly. There’s no point in going to bed. Instead, I search again… looking for answers… looking for help… looking for options that we didn’t know were possible. I breathe. It won’t help this flare, but maybe it will point us to a direction that can provide relief. Until then, I breathe in for 5, hold for 5, and breathe out for 7. And I keep searching.

This artwork represents the shared journey of people living with chronic pain and the caregivers, researchers, and clinicians who support them. The vibrant blooming flowers symbolize resilience and growth, while the small human figures seated within the petals capture deeply human moments of introspection and vulnerability experienced by people living with pain. The delicate neuron threads interwoven throughout highlight the vital role of researchers and medical professionals, whose efforts provide understanding, connection, and hope to those navigating pain. These threads nurture the blooms, reflecting the collective compassion and empathy that drives healing and progress. This piece celebrates the strength and humanity of those impacted by pain and the enduring power of unity.

Stream of consciousness introspection.

I was helping the nuns decorate the local church for Christmas many years ago. I was on chômage waiting on a call to go back to work at the Belleterre Saw Mill (Part-Time only). I had left my university studies to take a job at the same place my father worked to support us many years ago. Little did I know that the Lord had other plans. I felt a ripping pain on my lower back going straight down my left leg. I could not put the slightest pressure on my foot. I was hopping and chuckling. Thing is, I have a tendancy to laught through pain...and yeah, this was horrible lol. I had pulled my lower back muscle and it ended swollen ''like a big baloney.'' The pain was constant unless I exercised to strengthen my back muscles enough to compensate for the pain. This represents what the jabbing, electrical spasms felt like at their worst.

A lone figure sits on the floor, gazing at the viewer with an expression between vulnerability and pain. The visible brushstrokes capture the weight of solitude, with blue hues around the figure emphasizing the stillness and melancholy of the moment. It's my hope to evoke a feeling of connection between the painting and the observer, regardless of the viewer's personal history.

A part of the “Seen or unseen” body of work. By using a strip of red glittered paper, I aim to depict the rawness and courage that it takes to be imperfectly human.

What I do for my pain is to speak with it; we learn from each other and heal together. We are in a relationship; we live together and have everything in common—shared experiences, thoughts, and emotions. So, we try and get along the best we can.

I love the umbrella as a metaphor for agency and self-determination; in this piece I’m playing with themes of release, freedom and hope. Many of the children who attend hospital are dealing with long term illness and treatment. For my contribution to the mural at the Montreal Children's Hospital, I wanted to offer something that might spark the imagination and give a sense of wonder. Imagine if you had a magical umbrella that could catch the wind and take you anywhere you want to go? Art can take you away and the sky’s the limit.

This art work depicts my chronic pain and shows the tension between being myself and hiding behind my mask when I feel I can't meet societal expectations. It also shows things communicated to me by those who don't understand my disability and contrasts these with some truths and encouraging words from supporters. Making art is life-giving to me.

In "Shackles of White Ribbon", pain is both a constraint and a catalyst for resilience. The white ribbons—tight and restrictive—reflect the coping mechanisms and facades we adopt to contain pain, even when they confine our freedom and authenticity. Yet, within this restriction, there’s a quiet strength, as if these "shackles" keep the pieces from unraveling entirely.
The hand partially covering the face represents the instinct to shield oneself, to conceal the raw vulnerability that pain exposes. However, the piercing gaze challenges this, suggesting a confrontation with pain rather than retreat. The swirling background embodies the inner turmoil—waves of anguish and resilience intermingling—showing that pain is not a static experience but an ever-shifting force.
Through this self-portrait, pain is endured, hidden, battled, and ultimately embraced as part of oneself. The painting answers: what do I do for pain? I live with it, I confront it, and I transform it into art.

This image taken during my fellowship over 4 years ago captured the essence of how I felt (and still do) embarking on my journey as a new pain physician: conviction of the importance of pain medicine as a specialty, compassion for people living with pain, comraderie with colleagues with whom I share this calling, and joy in my work. The written pledge is not intended as prescriptive, rather a statement of what I hope to embody as a pain physician, and what I have seen in other pain physicians whom I look up to. . .

Pain is personal, pain is subjective, pain is abstract. Pain becomes pain through the person who lives it. Pain resonates as a multidimensional feeling. You see it, judge it, touch it, embrace it. It is more than a physiological response. It is a point of view between multiple realities.

Exploring the intimate relationship between physical suffering and the emotional experience of pain. The abstract composition emphasizes the neural and spinal pathways, highlighting the brain and spinal cord as central to the pain experience. The figure’s grimace expresses the profound discomfort and tension that arises from the body's response to pain. This artwork reflects the question, "What do I do for pain?" by illustrating how pain, while physical, also deeply affects the mind. Through the figure’s struggle, the piece suggests that the journey to cope with pain is a complex interaction between body and mind. By focusing on the spine and facial expression, the artwork invites the viewer to reflect on the multifaceted nature of pain and how we each respond to it in our own way.

Pain is an ever-changing landscape—unpredictable yet deeply rooted in experience. 'Flourishing Through Pain' reflects my journey of learning from nature’s lessons on growth, rest, renewal, and resilience through art.
A towering tree stands strong, its vast roots symbolizing the unwavering care and love of my support system which nourishes and strengthens me. Vibrant leaves represent the bi-annual surgeries and medication that help me function daily. A mountain range serves as a reminder of perspective—journaling helps me navigate pain’s peaks and valleys—while a rising cloud embodies faith and music, lifting my spirit. The golden sun on the horizon radiates hope with every step I take. Blooming flowers inspire me to embrace creativity, enjoy the little things, and celebrate colour to boost my mood, while the ocean’s ebb and flow mirror pain’s unpredictability. These mindful elements sustain me, transforming each pain-full day into moments of strength, growth, and hope.

Vivre avec la douleur, c’est comme porter un fardeau invisible, se sentir spectateur de sa propre vie, et se retrouver condamnée à l’incertitude et à la solitude. Puis, en 2021, ma vie a commencé à se transformer lentement, mais sûrement. Aux côtés d’autres personnes souffrant de douleur chronique, nous avons accepté l’invitation de notre médecin : Bouger. Ensemble, nous avons entrepris un défi ambitieux, cumuler le même nombre de kilomètres d’activités physiques à chaque semaine, que ceux parcourus par les aventuriers de l’Expédition AKOR qui traversaient le Canada du Nord au Sud au même moment. Cette toile raconte cette expérience où pendant cette association avec les aventuriers et mes collègues, nous nous sommes remis à être actifs. Nous avons traversé virtuellement le Canada et partager avec eux leurs défis, nos défis !
Pris dans un cercle de douleur, d’isolement et de sédentarité, nous avons trouvé de l’espoir en devenant des coéquipiers à distance de ces aventuriers inspirants. Tout comme nous, ils affrontaient leurs propres défis, les imprévus, les doutes et la solitude face à la majesté et à la rigueur de la nature. À travers leur aventure, nous nous sommes reconnus. Un pas après l’autre, en mouvement et reliés, nous avons compris que nous n’étions pas seuls face à la douleur chronique. Nous avons appris que nous pouvions coexister avec la douleur mais qu’elle ne définissait pas qui nous étions.
Sept mois plus tard, inspirés par cette expérience, nous avons retrouvé un nouveau versant de la vie, celui des possibilités et de l’engagement. Nous avons repris possession de notre existence, et redécouvert la joie de vivre, entourés de nos proches. Cette œuvre représente mon parcours personnel. Aujourd'hui, en tant que patiente partenaire, je souhaite offrir l’espoir à ceux qui, comme moi, cherchent à traverser leur propre versant et retrouver la lumière.

What Do I Do for Pain?
As a female veteran, I carry both visible and invisible wounds. When pain becomes overwhelming, I turn to art—not just as an escape, but as a means of survival.

Painting is my meditation. As my brush moves across the canvas, my mind rewires itself. Pain fades into the background, replaced by focus, flow, and creation. Each brushstroke becomes a silent prayer, each layer a step toward healing.

My painting, From Shadows to Wings, captures this journey. The monarch butterflies symbolize resilience, reminding me that even in darkness, I can find light. The blue butterflies represent hope, a promise of renewal. Gold leaf echoes Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending with gold, embracing scars as symbols of strength.

I turn pain into art—transforming hardship into healing. Art is my refuge, my resilience, my wings.

When I am surrounded by nature I experience a deep sense of peace in my mind,body and soul and I feel grounded and connected to the earth. These peaceful feelings calm my nervous system which is a powerful self-management tool that I use to cope with living with persistent pain. In recent years, I took up photography as a hobby and I discovered a passion for it. Being creative with photography and sharing nature's beauty with others brings me great joy. This photo was taken at the Pacheedaht Campground in Port Renfrew BC.

This photograph depicts a visual of deflecting the mind’s attention from one source of pain to another less afflicting version of it. This phenomenon known as “conditioned pain modulation” (CPM) describes applying painful stimuli to a part of the body that decreases the perception of pain elsewhere. The pain inflicted by jabbing fingernails into one’s palms refocuses the mind's attention, deceiving it to focus on the more bearable pain that is within its own control. I discovered this was a coping mechanism I was using unconsciously against chronic migraine pain. The darkness surrounding the hands symbolizes “the aura” experienced before a migraine. Blur and motion delay of the hands is used to illustrate the countless attempts to gain control over one’s pain. The red sweater portrays anger felt towards the body for hurting itself, meanwhile the blue background mirrors the deep fragility and sadness that comes alongside chronic pain.

D’arbre rabougri de par son tronc aigri, les douleurs chroniques ne sont que sablier, s’égrenant que très peu lentement, où les jours défilent au même rythme que la nouvelle feuille s’étant pointée le bout du nez dans mon "money tree" ce matin, où rêves et racines s’accrochent à la vie, mais que difficilement parfois. Et à travers les rictus et autres faciès où les maux trouvent écho, et malgré les ciels plus souvent qu’autrement sombres et orageux, kizis arrive toujours à caresser la joue de ses premiers rayons du printemps, tendre attention permettant d’en respirer tous les arômes du moment présent.

Deej@2025

This drawing features a fractured, mirror-like body symbolizing the fragmentation of one’s sense of self due to pain. At its heart is an African woman, embodying both vulnerability and resilience as she navigates the burden of chronic pain. Her fragility highlights the disproportionate suffering faced by individuals with Sickle Cell Disease (SCD), a disease as devastating and widespread as Cancer, yet often overlooked.

Despite recent advancements in pain management, significant challenges remain. The American Society of Hematology (ASH) has developed comprehensive guidelines, but many patients still face barriers such as limited access to specialized care and a lack of understanding about SCD pain. The emotional and psychological impact on patients and their families is often underappreciated.

Canada has made strides through initiatives like the Sickle Cell Disease Association of Canada (SCDAC), research programs, and newborn screening. However, gaps persist, including inconsistent screening, limited specialized care, and insufficient public awareness.
International collaboration, especially with low- and middle-income countries in Africa, is crucial. Sharing knowledge, enhancing research, and improving access to care can significantly impact SCD management globally.

Recent advancements have brought hope with the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approval of ground-breaking gene therapies, which represent potential cures for SCD. These therapies use gene-editing technology to modify a patient's own stem cells, offering a promising solution. However, their high cost may limit accessibility for many patients.

This artwork underscores the intersectionality of pain, acknowledging the complexities faced by those with SCD. It invites viewers to reflect on the multifaceted nature of pain and to laud the remarkable resilience of those who endure it.

I live with trigeminal neuralgia, and there are three main ‘tools’ that I use for pain: pharmacological interventions, listening to music, and being in nature. To illustrate these ‘tools,’ the painting showcases a tree. Depending on your viewpoint, it can also look like a head and neck. At the bottom of the tree are rocks, which are old pill bottles of mine. The tree’s leaves are made from my pill bottle labels, medication paper bags, and used pill packaging; if you look closely, you can see various medication names. Another 3D element is the symbolic pair of trigeminal nerves; these ‘nerves’ are made from real tree branches that I’ve painted. There is a syringe in the top right, to represent trigeminal nerve blocks that I frequently receive. Finally, music notes flow out of one prescription bottle, showing that soothing pain involves more than medication.

This is a visual representation of how I feel with a migraine. I was on holiday in Vancouver Island with my teenage son. The migraine has a center point in my eye and is like a sun flare in my head. Solar flares are the largest explosive events in our solar system and can last from minutes to hours, and migraines last hours to days.

What do I do for pain? For my own pain, I try to adapt! When I’m experiencing waves of CRPS pain, I try to metaphorically surf through them. My metaphorical surfboard might be any – or all – of my pain-management tools, including my art practice, being with family and friends, cuddling with my husband, cycling and other exercise, mindful meditation, singing (badly) or humming along to music, and spending time in nature.
And for others' pain I'm significantly involved in chronic pain advocacy, awareness-raising, education, research, and support, and am a Patient Partner for several groups and projects.
My #ArtDespitePain initiative, meanwhile, encourages others living with persistent pain to try creative pursuits as a brain-plasticity or neuro-plasticity tool for their pain.