Yes, boys and girls, it's been confirmed. My body has yet again launched a surprise attack on poor unsuspecting, innocent ol' me. Prior unprovoked assaults on me have been executed by my heart, immune system, vascular system, peroneal tendon (that one was a particularly nasty sneak attack) and liver. Most of these terroristic offensive operations by rebellious body parts have been put down using ground troops and chemical weapons of mass destruction, but the liver did require a tactical surgical strike as well.
Experts called in to review and analyze the evidence of the last incident have confirmed that a disc in my neck has turned rogue. A small explosion, probably in the vicinity of C6-C7, has resulted in temporary damage to the lines of communication between my right arm and my control center. It has also been verified that original attempts at containment and clean-up have had only limited success.
Sophisticated viewing equipment will be brought in Monday to visualize the damage and ascertain the exact location of the blowout, and the extent of the blast zone. We anticipate that physical therapy coupled with palliative chemical intervention will resolve the sequella to this particular confrontation, but a surgical strike in response to this attack cannot be ruled out. Permanent resolution cannot be expected to come for weeks or months.
Current responses include a twenty-day aggressive course of steroids to control inflammation, and some heavy hitting pain medication (four times the dose originally prescribed for me). Reinforcements may be called in if these original troops fail to hold their ground against the Godless Forces of Evil that currently hold my neck hostage.
They offered to assign a morale officer to my case. I politely declined. I have too many white coats stomping around on my battlefield as it is. Any more, and I might as well just call it an American Medical Association convention and offer continuing education credits.
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live.
-Dorothy Parker