I’m all made of hinges?

I’m all made of hinges ’cause everything bends
From the top of my neck way down to my ends.
I’m hinges in front, and I’m hinges in back;
But I have to be hinges, or else I would crack!
(“Hinges,” Children’s Songbook, #277)

I never understood that song when I was little. Sure, I’d stand up and sing it with the rest of them and I’d bend forward when I sang I was hinges in front and I’d bend backwards when I sang I was hinges in back just like everyone else. But I’m not all hinges. My ribs don’t bend. My shins don’t bend. My femur and ulna don’t bend. I am clearly not all hinges. That song bothered me in it’s inaccuracy when I was just a kid.

Side note: You should ask Brett how he felt about being asked to “get the wiggles out” when he was in Primary. Traumatized kid there. Something about a young Brett thinking wiggles were a tape-worm type parasite.

A week ago one of my hinges stopped working. Specifically, the hinge at the base of my neck that connects to my left shoulder. Some mean little imp was stabbing me with a hot knife right in that hinge. I’ve had herniated disks in my neck before so I knew what that felt like and this definitely felt like that again. Oddly, I didn’t want to go to the doctor for it because I really didn’t want to try and schedule physical therapy like I did last time. But after waking up in the middle of the night on Sunday in too much pain to sleep, and waking up Brett with my moaning and tossing, we decided I should probably see someone.

I don’t have a general practice doctor. So they couldn’t get me in at the clinic near our house. Instead I want to the “Insta” clinic 12 miles away. After waiting in the reception area for 50 minutes and then sitting in an exam room for another 40, a physician’s assistant came in and examined me for two or three minutes, declared me neurologically okay, and gave me prescriptions for anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxers.

That hinge still feels tight and in need of a good scrub down and some WD40. But I’m sleeping better now. And I can even look at you if you sit on my left side again.

But I’m still not all hinges.