One fateful night last week I slept funny. I’m sure there was a good reason for sleeping like that at the time (something to do with warmth), but it killed my neck. Or nearly did. And then I drove four hours home for Thanksgiving, and slept on NotMyPillow (it was a fine pillow, but not mine, which is its only fault, really). Then I drove something ridiculous like five and a half hours back to Denver through the snow, pain radiating down through my shoulder, elbow, and into the palm of my hand. But these things are nothing compared to this clencher: It hurts when I try to sleep. And there is no good, pain-free position.
So I went to the doctor. No chiropractor? No masseuse? No. Why? I hate having other people touch my back in any way that is mildly forceful or manipulative. Hate it. If I want relaxation, I’ll sit in a sauna or have a glass of wine, but paying someone to mess with my back will only make me more tense. Anyway, of course the doctor gave me some pills. Muscle relaxers. I slept last night from about 8:30 until almost 7:00, and even though I was a little groggy and out of it today (despite taking a very small dose of the stuff), my neck/shoulder/arm/hand feels better. I feel like it’s the easy way to fix things (taking pills), and that what I should really be doing is stretching, eating better, and not sleeping funny. But on the other hand, if two or three nights of the pills allow me to get enough sleep to allow my funny-sleeping wound to heal, I suppose it’s not a bad thing.