Mark’s back pain story stands out even though we see many like him. His case stands out because of how bad it was and how quickly it got better once his body finally got what it needed.

Mark’s days were a grind of heavy lifting, hammering, and hauling—tasks his small company demanded he tackle himself, thanks to his exacting standards and terrible luck with staff. His chronic pain was a relentless drain that fluctuated between nagging and unbearable levels. By the time he walked through our doors, he was surviving, not thriving, rating his average pain a 7-8 out of 10. Exhaustion had begun to compound the issue; managing mentally was as draining as the pain itself. Weekly spinal adjustments and acupuncture with his chiropractor had taken the edge off, dropping it to a bearable plateau, but it wasn’t enough.

The actual cause of Mark’s pain wasn’t in his spine or his core—it was lower in his body. The underlying problem behind his pain was that his feet were so flat they defied belief. After two decades in the clinic, I’ve rarely seen arches collapse completely; his tarsal and metatarsal bones hugged the ground like they’d given up on life. Born with a genetic tilt toward flatness, years in work boots on concrete had ‘cemented’ the flaw. His skeleton was misaligned and endlessly absorbing shocks it wasn’t built for. But Mark saw it differently. He pinned his agony on the heavy lifting, not his feet, and baulked at the cost of custom insoles. Fair enough—when you’re in survival mode and have had heaps of failed attempts at pain relief, it is easy to become a skeptic. It is also easy to assume that the thing that hurts the most is the real cause of the problem.

Pain, though, has a way of wearing down resistance. Mark thought long and hard, then relented, agreeing to try anything—even pricey insoles. So, we made him some custom insoles to support his arches.

The sensation was alien when Mark first slipped his orthotics into his boots, like walking on a foreign surface. Then, by day three, his feet started to ache, and his back pain flared—a predictable hiccup as his body adjusted. We braced him for this; change isn’t instant. Then, two weeks later, on a Monday, Mark woke almost pain-free for the first time in years—his back pain was a quiet 1 or 2 instead of a screaming 8. He powered through a week of labour with a grin, a man reborn. Over the following months, treatments that once barely dented his pain—adjustments, acupuncture—pushed it to zero. Amazed with these life-altering results, he even embraced daily glute and foot-strengthening exercises, a habit he’s stuck with since.

Despite how it felt to Mark, none of this was miraculous; it was straightforward mechanics. Mark was like a car without any shock absorbers. Every step was sending jolts up his spine. This caused chronic repetitive strain, his spinal tissues couldn’t tolerate. Unlike the soft earth our feet evolved for, concrete floors offer no shock absorption, amplifying tissue stress. This is amplified with flat feet. 

Mark’s insoles didn’t just cushion his arch; they mimicked nature’s natural support. Once the mechanical threat eased, his nervous system dialled down the alarm. Pain management isn’t about silencing symptoms; it’s about hearing them. Mark’s back was shouting about his feet, and we listened. 

At Severn Pain & Injury Care, we often see this pattern—pain as a messenger. Letting us know that some physical need is not being met. Our approach digs beneath the symptom itself, blending hands-on treatment with root-cause solutions. For Mark, it was insoles and rehab; for others, it might be core work, posture fixes, or scar tissue release. 

We assess, treat, and prevent pain using tools like gait analysis or shockwave therapy when needed. Pain is a physical language, not a disease. Mark’s story proves it: Pain relief becomes a realistic possibility when you address the actual cause. Years later, his back’s still quiet, and he’s still building homes. If your pain’s talking, we’re here to translate—and treat