Seven years ago I had a pain in my neck.
Not in the form of an errant child or husband, but a bonafide pain in my neck.
I’ve told this story many times, but William Quincy Belle’s recent article about the knife in his shoulder prompted me to actually write it down.
In late 2007 I began a job that required me to spend a great deal of time behind a steering wheel. I soon found myself massaging the back of my neck more and more often, in an attempt to release the growing ache at the base of my skull.
Aware of my increasing discomfort, Warren and my children gave me this neck massager for some holiday, probably Mother’s Day.
Now, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t do anything about the pain in my neck, but honestly, it would come and go such that the only time I thought about it was when I was hurting. It would go away and I’d forget about it.
Fortunately, during my routine physical, after my doctor declared me “healthy as a horse,” he asked if there was anything else I needed.
And the little light bulb went off.
I told him about the discomfort I’d been experiencing and he scheduled an MRI.
A week later, someone called me from a Pain Management Clinic.
“You had an MRI on your neck and need treatment,” the person on the other end of the line said after I questioned the reason for their call.
Pain management? I don’t want to manage my pain, I want to eliminate it. That’s what was going through my forty-two-year-old mind.
I informed her I hadn’t even heard from my doctor yet and that I’d get back to them.This is the result of that MRI of my neck and base of my skull: