Another Trip to the ER, Still No George Clooney

Once upon a time, I had a bad job.  Really, really bad.  It had me so stessed out that in the wee hours one night, my body rebelled.  A severe muscle spasm caused me to lose control of the muscles in my neck.

It hurt, to put it mildly, and I couldn't lift or turn my head.  As it turns out, you need to lift your head in order to get out of bed.  And if the pain jolts you out of sleep and you can't move, your first sleepy thought might be along the lines of, "I'm paralized!"  Then you realize you're not, and you wake up The Squeeze.

The Squeeze sleeps heavily.  It takes him a while to come to full consciousness.  So when I woke him up and explained the situation, his reaction was to tell me to go back to sleep.  And he went back to sleep.  I didn't, but I couldn't very well drive myself to the emergency room now, could I?

In the morning, the muscles that had gone lax were now clenched.  I still couldn't lift my head, but by grabbing my hair and pulling, I was able to sit up.  The Squeeze had a very important engagement, so it was decided my roommate would go with me to the ER.  Exit Squeeze stage left.

Now it's just my roommate and me.  My sleepy roommate remembers her car is in the shop; we'll have to take mine.  My car has a manual transmission.  The roommate cannot drive it. 

I drive myself to the ER, unable to turn my head at all.  The roommate does the looking for me, and we pray I won't get pulled over or kill us in a cataclysmic crash.

A week later, I quit that job.

Trapper probably would have handled it all a lot more gracefully than me, given he's the resilient sort.