Karma

As an insurance lawyer, I've spent much of my career scoffing professionally at "whiplash" injuries (the quotation marks often discernible in the sneering manner with which I pronounce the words).

These "injuries" result in subjective and unverifiable pains that seem to last forever, morphing at times into strange entities like fibromyalgia and chronic pain syndrome, diagnoses requiring questionable (to me) and expensive (to the insurers) "modalities" like chiropractic, massage therapy, acupuncture, and so forth.  The "so forth" descending the scale of credibility into such absurdities as herbal and aroma therapies.

The usual cure was the "green poultice" -- application of  hundred dollar bills to the affected areas -- I sneered.

But -- what goes around, comes around.

In early October, I began developing a mild stiff neck.  The stiffness gradually spread to my shoulders and upper back.  By the beginning of December, I was feeling sharp pains in my left shoulder blade area.  The pain now is fairly constant -- although varying greatly from hour to hour in intensity -- and bounces around from one part of my neck and upper back to another.

A week ago, I had a physical therapy session.  The therapist assured me that there was nothing seriously wrong.  But she didn't seem to know quite what the problem was.  She gave me some home exercises to work on.

The home exercises may help in the long run.  They hurt in the short run.

But my purpose in writing this post isn't to complain about my aches and pains -- as richly satisfying as my so complaining actually proves to be.  I merely reflect on the irony that the mythical complaints of those many whiners whom I've derided over the years have now sprung full-blown into existence within my own body.  The "whiners" at least had an auto accident or a slip and fall on which to pin their troubles.

I can blame nothing but the peculiar sense of humor of the gods. 

Karma.  How amusing!  Not.