Editor’s note: Terence J. Coderre, PhD (Alan Edwards Centre for Research on Pain, McGill University, Montreal, Canada), and Lucia Gagliese, PhD (School of Kinesiology and Health Science, York University, Toronto, Canada), each kindly agreed to contribute to PRF a personal remembrance of pioneering pain researcher Dr. Ronald Melzack, who passed away on December 22, 2019. Read their remembrances below.
Professor Melzack? No, Please, Just Ron!
by Terence Coderre
When the Executive Editor of the Pain Research Forum, Neil Andrews, asked me to write a tribute to Ronald Melzack, I did not hesitate in saying yes, at least initially. My slight hesitation later was more out of a feeling of, Why me, when there are so many people whose lives Ron touched? I was happy when Neil agreed that I could write this along with another of Ron’s graduate students, Lucia (Lucy) Gagliese, who had attended his funeral along with me and several other students just two weeks earlier. I wanted to include Lucy because I knew her perspective would differ from mine, and our two points of view would give a broader picture of Ron’s influence, and a fuller mosaic of diverse personal remembrances of him.
Ron was the type of person who was highly in tune with the person that he was engaged with, whether it was for a short conversation or a long relationship, such as a mentor-student bond. As such, he was astute at knowing and acting in a manner that was consistent with the personalities and working styles of all his trainees. He seemed to know instinctively if a student was interested in a more hands-off professional relationship or a "sit down and have a cup of tea with me" more friendly style, and he would act appropriately in each circumstance to put his trainees at ease. And no matter how intimidated you were when you first met him, he was sure to set you at ease with his favorite line – “No, please, just Ron.”
With me as more of a get-down-to-business, introverted student, Ron and I had more of a business-like relationship than you will read in Lucy’s account below. However, this does not take away from the fact that he always did whatever he could for me to assist me in my studies, inspire me, and advance my career, as he did for all his students. Ron’s laboratory was unarguably the most prestigious in the pain research field in Canada, and among the top in the world. This is an outstanding accomplishment, considering that his research group had over the years almost exclusively comprised graduate students and himself. How did a handful of graduate students complete work that competes on a world scale with large research teams filled with research associates and postdoctoral fellows? These accomplishments were only possible through the extraordinarily creative guidance and support, as well as the undying enthusiasm, of their mentor.
The true creativity in Ron’s teaching came from his remarkable ability to stimulate, in his students, a tenacious interest in the pain research field. He accomplished this not only by setting an excellent example, but also by ensuring that his students were exposed to the research field from a variety of perspectives. His research group always included students involved in both basic and clinical pain research, and he strongly encouraged them to interact so that they would learn from each other. The impetus for pain research is greatly stimulated by contact with those who suffer from chronic pain. By encouraging his students to participate in clinical sessions at Montreal General Hospital Pain Centre, he enriched their experience, and their research directives and enthusiasm were reinforced.
He also encouraged his students to examine their area of research at multiple levels – always attending to historical, cultural, and philosophical, as well as basic science perspectives. Although studying psychology, students were exposed to historical medical texts, anthropological films, and various other media, which generated heightened interest in the pain field. Ron was also extremely supportive of collaborative projects between his students and researchers in other departments at McGill or at other institutions.
His dedication to his students was also underscored by his persistent efforts to be available to them at all times – not an easy feat for an individual who was so highly regarded and often called upon by both colleagues and patients seeking assistance. Ron took on the responsibility of the presidency of the International Association for the Study of Pain while I was a graduate student in his laboratory, and despite the heavy demands this appointment placed on him, it was impossible to detect a change in his attitude or commitment to his graduate students during this time.
I was impressed by the respect and admiration Ron had for his own supervisor, Donald Hebb, who had left McGill to continue his emeritus professorship at Dalhousie the year before I arrived at McGill in 1981. Ron referred to Donald as his academic father, and as such he referred to all his own trainees as Hebb’s academic grandchildren. This had a lasting effect on me, as years later when Neurotree.org first appeared, I spent a large part of my spare time working on my and Ron’s academic family tree, and our great heritage with names like Penfield, Osler, Sherrington, Huxley, and Darwin in the mix.
I'll remember Ron as a warm, caring man who was passionately enthusiastic for his research field and solidly supportive of his students. He guided me and his other students by stimulating us to expand our interests and horizons, and not by placing rigid restrictions on our time or creative processes, as so many others are tempted to do. His supervisory style has been an inspiration and a role model for me in my own supervision of students.
While Ron Melzack’s name was synonymous with high-quality research that is both meticulous and creative, it was Ron’s empathy for those suffering from chronic pain, and his passion for understanding the true nature of the pathological processes that underlie such suffering, that have been an inspiration to all in the field. His approach to understanding pain, and his superb ability to communicate both the knowledge that has been gained and the questions that still remain, were perhaps two of Ron’s most outstanding qualities. An enduring legacy is the enthusiasm for pain research and management that Ron has passed on to his students and colleagues.
Melzack-isms: A Reminiscence of Mentorship in Academic Life
by Lucy Gagliese
I was Ron Melzack’s last clinical psychology graduate student (1991-1998). His mentorship remains one of my cornerstones, influencing my thinking, career, and life. As I write, beside me are a cup of tea and a package of Fig Newtons. Ron kept a package on his filing cabinet, tucked behind the spider plant. He’d welcome me into his office (no appointment necessary, but never knock if the door is closed) and put on the kettle. While the tea steeped, he reached for the package. It crinkled when he grasped it, swished when he pulled it from its hiding spot. He put it on his desk between us and carried, from the little side table, the steaming mugs. He never let me help. Then, he sat, took a Fig Newton, and leaned back.
We talked about pain, but rarely the details of my research. Nor did he red-ink my drafts. He made few edits, mostly minor, but he always wrote encouraging notes. When our first paper was accepted for publication, he left the decision letter – real mail – in my mailbox, adding handwritten congratulations on the envelope. That envelope still hangs over my desk.
Mostly, he asked questions, often sending me to the library to take what he called “academic strolls.” This is the first Melzack-ism: "Academic strolls are essential." Follow hunches, become immersed in ideas, wherever they lead. Slow down, stroll.
When I started grad school, I presented my undergraduate research to the lab. I was nervous, in awe of Ron and my senior labmates. As I placed my first transparency on the overhead projector, Ron said, “You don’t need those,” and confiscated them. “You have a story to tell us. Tell it.” Heart pounding, I told my story.
I learned a key Melzack-ism that day: "Stories are powerful." Ron was a riveting storyteller. During one keynote lecture, the audience was transfixed by his stories. He showed a single slide, a painting, a landscape, golden fields, green trees, blue sky.
A related Melzack-ism is, "Listen to stories." At the McGill-Montreal General Hospital Pain Centre, Ron listened deeply to people with pain, like a curious, compassionate student. He modeled tolerating complexity and uncertainty without resorting to stigmatizing explanations of pain. Ron’s inquisitive listening led to seminal contributions, particularly the McGill Pain Questionnaire.
A cardinal Melzack-ism is, "Find your big fish." In my third year of grad school, Ron left on my desk a chapter on pain and aging with “Let’s discuss” written on the first page.
The next day, over tea and Fig Newtons, I told him about my grandmother. At eighty-six, she was denied analgesics despite a hip fracture because her doctor believed people her age did not feel pain. “I was angry, Ron. They were calling her a liar and wouldn’t help her.”
“This is what you must study!” he exclaimed. “This is your big fish. Hauling in small fish is quick and easy, but not satisfying or helpful in the long run. Now, a big fish, that’s what you want. It’ll challenge you for years, and you’ll help suffering people.”
The final Melzack-ism, for now, is my most cherished: "Life must be more than work." When Ron thought I was overworking, he’d send me to a movie, concert, museum, or home to my family. He loved sharing stories about his wife, Lucy, and tried not to criticize my unsuitable boyfriends. He beamed when I finally met my husband, my own big love. Ron was enthusiastic about my creative writing. We often spoke about his children’s stories and writing fiction.
In grief, we can torment ourselves with words unsaid and things undone. Fortunately, Ron knew I loved him, and I know, without doubt, he loved me. For almost 30 years, his support was unwavering, his encouragement absolute. Within a week of my leaving McGill for Toronto, he sent a note empathizing with the difficulties of moving, reaffirming our connection. He was my academic-father and I his academic-daughter. I will love, miss, and be guided by Ron for the rest of my life.
The only thing undone, though often discussed, was publishing the Melzack-isms, like Seuss-isms ─ pithy advice on academic life. Although I would rather be sharing Fig Newtons and tea with Ron, I am honored to share here, belatedly, some of the Melzack-isms.
"Thanks, Ron, for being just Ron, and for all your isms! We’ll miss you."
Terry and Lucy