I have had neck and back problems for 22 years. It started when I fell down a flight of stairs while 8 months pregnant with child #3. No one pushed me. I just slipped while carrying a diet Coke and a snack down a flight of stairs. Then getting pregnant 15 months later with #4 didn’t help a lot. Then when I jumped in a pool and landed on the concrete slope which jarred my spine so hard that my teeth clacked together didn’t help. When the lady rear-ended me in a Sonic parking lot (why did I need those French Toast Strips?) that helped things progress. Then 8 months later when I was rear-ended on a highway while stopped at a red-light and the 18 year old girl on her cell phone rear ended me doing 55 mph that pretty much finished me off.
In the past 20 years I have had physical therapy, acupressure, acupuncture, cupping, chiropractic, muscle relaxers, every pill and can of menthol spray you can imagine. I have had at least 20 pain blocks in my neck and lower back. In January 2015, I had two cervical discs removed without a lot of relief. In April 2016, I had another cervical disc removed in my neck with some relief but not complete relief. I am getting an MRI tomorrow on my thoracic and lumbar spine so we can see what’s new there.
All of this is not meant to whine too much but I am getting weary getting poked and prodded. My first neck scar from the first cervical surgery was horizontal in a natural crease which apparently is surgeon-speak for neck wrinkle. It hardly shows unless you are really looking for it. But this last surgery in April 2016 was a whole different story. He made a zig-zaggedy cut down the front of my neck about 6 inches long. so he would have room to do his thing. So I have decided to make up a story to go with this scar because the truth is just plain dull. It goes like this:
I was doing time in the joint. (I watch too much Orange is the New Black). I was in the cafeteria line counting the number of squares of cornbread left versus the number of inmates in front of me. I was set for the very last square. All of a sudden this chick jumps ahead of me in line and gets the last piece of cornbread set to be mine. I’m a peaceful person (my back story would have to be I was framed because I am too chicken to actually break the law). Anyway, I was pushed too far. A fight broke out and when I came to I had a spork sticking out my neck but I had my cornbread. I don’t know what happened to her. Maybe she was in the infirmary with worse wounds than me or in the “SHU” (Solitary Housing Unit for those of you who don’t know prison lingo.)
I think we can all agree that if we were doing hard time we could be pushed over the line over someone cutting line to take our carbs.
Isn’t this a better story than saying I am an old fart with a bunch of rusty parts? I am way too sexy for neck collars and ice packs. I am ready for some Dermablend to cover that scar up and move on with my life.
Ta ta for now. Kiss kiss.
She writes about life, death, grief, and recovery.
Latest posts by Cindy Magee (see all)
- What Bereaved Parents Want You to Know - January 10, 2018
- Please Don’t Do or Say These Things To a Bereaved Parent - January 4, 2018
- How Will My Play End? - January 3, 2018