BrokeNeck Poutin'

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has a broken neck. It's true. Not 'broken' in the manner of an orthopedic halo drilled into her skull, or 'broken' in the manner of fragments of vertebrae migrating about her cervical spine region.

Broken. As in not working correctly. It happened Wednesday night. Mrs. HM fell asleep in her recliner downstairs while watching TV. She awoke around 1:00 a.m. and went to bed. Wouldn't you know it...after countless nights of complaining about HH's breather whooshing germy air across her face and making enough racket to turn the dead into insomniacs...HH was not using his breather. The silence was deafening. Mrs. HM tried to sleep. She twisted about for nigh on one hour. Then she got up to sit in HH's recliner. It's a big man's chair, and the pillow poofy top cushion thingy does not fit the curve of Mrs. HM's neck when she reclines. The pointy back of her head rests on that uncomfy cushion, leaving her neck unsupported.

Because that chair is right under the air return vent for the central heating and cooling system, there is always some dust kicking around like a dirt cloud over Franklin of Charlie Brown fame. Mrs. HM had finally dozed off around 2:15 a.m., only to be awakened by a spine-rattling cough. This cough resulted in a popping pain through Mrs. HM's right neck/shoulder area, which was already tighter than Dick's hatband, what with the stress of giving the End Of Course tests on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The immediate pain was excruciating. It lingered into the waking hours.

Mrs. HM was discombobulated by the pain. She had to be at school for testing. She drove in pain, she walked in pain, she sat in pain. It was one of those sharp, shooting pains that brings you to the point of nausea. In between sharp, shooting pains was a dull, nagging pain. There were very few positions that would bring a blissful few seconds of non-pain. By 10:00 a.m., Mrs. HM had dosed herself with two ibuprofen. (TWO, Mabel! TWO ibuprofen at once! That's how you know Mrs. HM is hurtin'). The TWO ibuprofen made the sharp pain dull. On the way home, Mrs. HM dragged herself through The Devil's Playground for some mentholated stick-on heating pad kind of thingy. Mabel recommended them highly a while back.

Apparently, Mabel sprung for the good stuff, because those Equate thingies did little or nothing for Mrs. HM. She might as well have stuck a Stay-Free mini-pad to her neck and hoped for it to absorb her pain. A fake vicodin left over from HH's neck surgery in December 2005 did not take away the pain. Nor did an aspirin, nor visualization of a peaceful, special place.

Day Two of the broken neck prompted Mrs. HM to tell her Arch Nemesis, "My neck is broken. Don't touch me, or my head will roll off." Arch Nemesis acquiesced. Mr. Custodian, however, slapped Mrs. HM on the shoulder in the hall during class change, which he NEVER does, in a display of camaraderie over ordering a giant tomato plant from the infomercial. This sent Mrs. HM through the roof, as her TWO ibuprofen had worn off, and the no-name, no-good mini-pad on her neck was not (and never had been) working.

The mother of Mrs. HM braved the Devil to bring her some name brand sticky pad thingies after work. She stuck one on Mrs. HM after sticking around to help with the feeding and watering of HH's farmyard pets. That duty has befallen Mrs. HM over the weekend, due to the boys' trip to the state youth bowling tournament in St. Joseph. Mrs. HM repaid her debt with two fresh eggs, a National Enquirer and a Globe, and seven dollars in cash. The name brand sticky holds the heat, but it does not stick.

A fake vicodin and an aspirin later, Mrs. HM is not nauseous, but is still hurtin' for certain. How can you mend a broken neck? Sing along with the Bee Gees, people.

Please help me mend my broken neck, and let me live again.