Hi, my name is Nikki, and this is honestly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done—putting my story out into the world and asking for help. I'm a very private person, and I’ve gone back and forth about whether to share this at all.

But at the end of the day, I know this: every little bit helps, and sometimes the hardest thing you can do is the most important.

Two years ago, I suffered what should have been a relatively minor injury — a partial kneecap dislocation. I followed every medical recommendation, expecting it to heal. But instead of getting better, things got worse. Much worse. The injury triggered Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS)—a rare and devastating nerve disorder that causes constant, severe pain and a host of disabling symptoms. Every part of my life has been altered or taken away by this condition…It has left me disabled, exhausted, and fighting to be believed.

For over a year, I begged doctors to help me. Doctor after doctor dismissed me, telling me I was “making it up,” or it was just “in my head.” I was told that nothing was wrong. I was treated like I was imagining things while my body was in full crisis mode…my symptoms spiraling out of control. I was left to suffer in silence, feeling invisible and terrified. It wasn’t until I flew across the country that I finally found a doctor who listened and gave me the diagnosis I’d feared: CRPS.

What makes this even harder is that I’ve been through this before. When I was a child, I was diagnosed with CRPS—then called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD). After a long and difficult journey, I was lucky enough to go into remission. I truly believed I was done with that chapter of my life…that it was behind me for good and I’d never have to live through that hell again. But now, after this knee injury, the CRPS has returned, and the pain is worse than ever and spreading.

Often called “the suicide disease,” CRPS causes constant, burning and stabbing nerve pain that is often described as worse than childbirth, amputation, or cancer pain, ranking at the top of the McGill Pain Index. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t let up. It doesn’t play fair. Every day feels like a battle. Simple things—walking, sleeping, covering up by a blanket, even just being touched—can send waves of searing pain through my body. It feels like I’m trapped in a body that’s turned against me.

I now have to use an electric scooter just to get through the grocery store or run simple errands because I can’t stand or walk for more than a few minutes without extreme pain. This has robbed me of so much independence, my mobility, and so many parts of the life I used to love. What once were everyday tasks are now challenges I have to plan for and take time and energy to recover from. I miss walking freely, running errands without thinking, and simply feeling like me.

But it’s not just the physical pain that makes CRPS so hard—it’s emotionally exhausting. It wears you down. It’s isolating. Even when you’re surrounded by people who love you, you can still feel completely alone in it. It’s hard to explain what you’re going through when no one can see your pain—and harder still to keep smiling through it.

I’ve tried everything that’s been offered to me—a brace, medications, physical therapy, nerve blocks, and even spinal injections. Each treatment has left me more discouraged. Nothing has worked. I’m exhausted. I’m in constant, excruciating pain every single day.

I don’t ask for help lightly. I’m the kind of person who will quietly suffer and try to power through — even when the pain is breaking me. But this time, I need support—before this disease takes even more from me, and before it spreads more. There is one more option — and it might be the one that changes everything. It’s called Scrambler Therapy.

Scrambler Therapy is a non-invasive, FDA-cleared treatment that retrains the way the brain and nervous system interpret pain signals. For many CRPS patients, it has brought lasting relief—some even remission. Unfortunately, it’s still considered “experimental” here in the US and insurance won’t cover it. The entire cost—clinic fees, the 10 days of treatments, travel to and from the clinic, and follow-up care—must be paid out of pocket, and costs thousands of dollars!

That’s why I’m here, sharing something so personal and vulnerable, hoping for a little help.

I’m hoping to raise $4,500 to cover the full cost of getting this treatment and take a step toward living again—not just existing.

If you’ve ever known someone who’s lived in chronic pain…If you’ve ever been dismissed by a doctor or told your pain wasn’t real…or if you just want to help someone hold on to hope — please consider donating. It would mean the world to me! If you’re not in a position to give, I understand more than you know—and I’d be so grateful if you could share my story.

I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, but I want to believe in a future with less pain and more freedom. This treatment is my chance to get there. It’s the best chance I’ve had in years!

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I’ve spent so long trying to manage this in silence, but now I’m choosing hope—and from the bottom of my heart, I’m so grateful to have you with me.

With love and gratitude,

Nikki