I have lived with chronic pain for much of my life. In southwest Michigan, that often means long drives, waiting rooms, ineffective prescriptions, and daily discomfort. Four years ago, I finally caught a break when I tried tablets made from 7-OH, a compound derived from the kratom plant. Unexpectedly, it made my pain manageable enough that I could work consistently and have a social life again.

But almost as soon as I found it, Michigan lawmakers proposed a bill, HB 4969, that would effectively make 7-OH illegal. Some lawmakers argue that 7-OH poses public health risks, though clear evidence of a widespread crisis has not been presented. The bill puts such a low cap on 7-OH that many products would disappear from store shelves, including the one that helps me.

Headshot of a man in a black hoodie against a white backdrop
Tony Jackson is a chronic pain patient and has lived in Niles for seven years. He grew up in southwest Michigan. He is a freelance music producer, graphic designer, and songwriter and also worked in construction. (Courtesy photo)

For a chronic pain patient, it’s a familiar, if frustrating, story. State leaders often say they care about chronic pain patients, but the policies that follow rarely match those words. People living with chronic pain are left navigating a system that often ignores us until it finds a new way to make the struggle harder. This has to stop. Instead of restricting 7-OH and failing chronic pain patients, Michigan needs to fix a health care system that has been broken for years. 

My chronic pain comes from old injuries. There were long stretches when even leaving the house for basic errands felt impossible.

Many Michiganders live like this, though reliable statewide data is limited. A 2018 survey from the Center for Health and Research Transformation (the most recent study we have) found that more than 35% of Michigan residents reported pain that limited their lives or work within the last year. This is significantly higher than the national average, which a 2023 CDC study puts at around 24%.

Despite this, Michigan remains a tough place to be in pain. There are shortages of clinicians and pain specialists, especially outside major metro areas. Federal health officials say there are 280 areas (with about 2.63 million people) in the state officially labeled as having a shortage of primary care providers. If you can’t get into a primary care doctor, you’re unlikely to get referred to a specialist. 

Even if you manage to get a referral to a pain specialist, the problems may not stop there. A 2023 study found that about one in four Michigan pain clinics does not manage medications, and nearly half do not accept Medicaid. 

The national opioid crisis, meanwhile, has made doctors much more cautious about prescribing the most effective treatments. Opioid medication prescriptions dropped by about 39.5%. There were legitimate reasons to cut back on opioid prescriptions. But access to alternatives has not expanded enough to replace what disappeared.

Given those barriers, it’s not surprising that many chronic pain patients begin looking outside the traditional medical system. That’s how many of us discovered alternatives like kratom-derived products containing 7-OH. But now, HB 4969 would take away that option, too. Rather than respecting the role 7-OH is filling for the chronic pain community and putting reasonable rules in place to assuage safety concerns, lawmakers want to ban the substance entirely.

Michigan should instead focus on strengthening chronic pain care. That starts with better data through public surveys so policymakers can understand the scale of the problem. It means increasing healthcare funds in underserved areas so we can improve access. And it means regulating, rather than banning, 7-OH by setting age limits and mandating clear and accurate labeling. 

Chronic pain already limits what millions of people can do with their lives. The state should not make that burden heavier by taking away options that work for us. If lawmakers commit to fixing pain care rather than relying on kneejerk prohibition, we can finally build a Michigan where living with pain doesn’t have to mean living poorly.

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