Neck Pain:
Between Me, Nefertiti, and Frida Kahlo
Cheryl Achterberg
The bike accident was in August 2023. I misjudged. The turn was sharper than I thought. The bike went down, I went down, and my head hit the dirt. I was new to biking on a big white German brand. E-bikes have lots of advantages, but they’re heavy. I struggled to get up. Two physicians rode with me. I had a helmet on, and they thought I was fine. I didn’t think much more about it until later.
The stiff neck started in September. My partner and I like to snuggle. The space between his collar bone and pectoral muscles is smooth and cupped concave. It fits my head “just so.” We like to lay together, my head resting in the cool meadow of peace in the mornings. But my neck became sore as if I slept on it wrong. I became more and more uncomfortable with snuggling. And then it was as if an ogre attacked me in late October. The pain in my neck was suddenly acute. What happened?
I tried to get medical attention but given the time of year (when everyone wants to use up their insurance allotment), I could not get in to see any traditional medical provider or specialist for a month and a half. I started seeking alternative treatment to find relief. Over-the-counter medications were useless. Heavy prescription pain medication knocked me out. Acupuncture, chiropractic manipulation, dry needling, physical therapy, and muscle relaxants—all completely useless. I even underwent an experimental Botox simulation (nine shots at once into my neck) that failed. Finally, an MD gave me epidural steroid shots into my C1, C5–6 and C6–7 vertebrae.
The shots rescued me—for a little while, somewhat. Then the pain re-erupted. I had no strength whatsoever. Tears squirted from my eyes. I was in agony and virtually bed bound. I saw twelve different physicians and health care providers over nine months, specialists of all stripes. Problems were found, but no one knew how to treat me, and no one knew what to do. I was told the effects would last my lifetime. I know I’m not alone with this problem. Medical mysteries abound.
Frida Kahlo, Mexico’s most famous woman artist, probably knew more about neck and back pain than anyone. Ms. Kahlo was in a terrible bus accident at age eighteen and suffered more than thirty surgeries over her lifetime. Confined to a hospital bed, lost in a sea of pain, with medical school out of the question and her future turned upside-down, Frida started to paint. Kahlo’s most telling piece, The Broken Column, depicts her spine as a crumbling Greek column. Frida is crying in this portrait, and despite nails piercing her face and body, she looks steadfast at the viewer.
I also thought of Queen Nefertiti. That was a natural thing for me to do. My mother was an artist; she filled my mind with artistic images I drew on throughout my life. I pictured Nefertiti with her iconic neck, long, beautiful, graceful. She wore a tall, flat-topped crown in a famous ancient sculpture. The elongated neck and her exaggerated posture hint at an underlying medical frailty. I wondered what she might have done for pain relief.
My neck injury lands on a continuum, I suspect, between Nefertiti’s and Frida’s. It includes bulging disks, arthritis, calcium growths called osteophytes, and pinched nerves. All of this I saw on x-rays and MRIs, but the trauma underneath was invisible. The bones in our neck protect the delicate spinal cord inside, our highway of nerves for communication between the brain and the rest of the body. The neck joints also allow us to bend our backs and to turn our heads from side to side and up and down, movements I couldn’t make without excruciating pain.
Every vertebra has a purpose. Beginning at the top of the spine are seven cervical vertebrae. Doctors have labelled these C1–C7. The nerves in C1 vertebra control head rotation. Problems in this area are tricky to treat because of C1’s position at the base of the skull, its odd shape, and its proximity to the brain. The nerves in C2–C7 control breathing and the muscles of the arms and legs. That’s why “breaking the neck” can lead to paralysis in full or in part, depending on the injury’s location. My problem centered on C1 but extended to C5–C7.
Whiplash, according to the Mayo Clinic, is the most common cause of neck injury worldwide, affecting millions every year. It is caused by a sudden forceful back and forward movement, or “snap,” to the head, resulting in severe neck pain, stiffness, and headaches lasting for weeks and sometimes months. Cleveland Clinic lists the risk factors for whiplash including:
● age over 65 years (due to bone and muscle degeneration),
● short height,
● being female, and
● car collisions
I checked every box except the car collision, so I looked like a whiplash case. But I wasn’t. Nefertiti probably never had whiplash either, unless her chariot got rear-ended by another. However, she could have strained or sprained her neck wearing a heavy crown all the time. Frida Kahlo, on the other hand, probably did suffer whiplash, and much more.
Neck injuries have dreadful names that can be confusing and difficult to pronounce. Cervical kyphosis indicates a C-shape to the neck, making it weak. Nefertiti’s neck is classic for this shape. I have this problem too. It is hard to correct, as the muscles and bones are “frozen” in place. Decades of poor posture contributed to its development. Cervical spondylosis, another injury, is a fancy name for arthritis in the neck. The Cleveland Clinic reports that nine of ten people over the age of sixty have it. Yes, I have cervical spondylosis too, and I’m guessing Frida also had a severe case since injury adds to the risk.
Pain occurs when calcium growths, called osteophytes, appear on the vertebra, pinching inward on the spinal column (cervical myelopathy) or outward (cervical radiculopathy), compressing nerves that run throughout the body. People who spend hours every day looking down or hunched over a computer screen are more susceptible. These conditions do not physically affect the brain, though once injured, there may be secondary psychological or emotional problems due to intense pain. Treatment prospects are poor. Surgical options include fusing the spine and screwing a metal plate into the neck. These procedures are helpful sometimes but always risky.
My condition was also accompanied by a psychological twist. I endured a major emotional event in late September, the tipping point, perhaps, that triggered my intense pain. The storm had gathered over years of accumulated stress, poor posture, long-past sport injuries, and arthritic aging. My doctors dismissed this explanation (except for posture), but it rings true to my inner voice.
I learned when it comes to neck pain, or any severe pain, you need to be your own advocate. If the issue doesn’t resolve itself quickly, doctors will give you pain medication and/or steroid shots, but these are only temporary fixes. If those treatments concern you (or don’t work for you), there is nothing left in their “black bag” except major surgery. Sometimes surgery is an absolute necessity (if the spinal cord is pinched), but often not. Either way, it is important to get emotional support and/or psychological treatment for chronic pain and to start trials of alternative or holistic approaches to find what works best for your neck. Believe in your own body’s biofeedback.
Neck pain was forever for both Queen Nefertiti and Frida Kahlo, captured in art. But I wanted another outcome. I had to become my own advocate. Like Frida Kahlo, I refused to concede defeat. My path to healing was a journey. I blended traditional and alternative treatment approaches. I’m still taking prescription medication, but I also employ a hot tub on a regular basis, use good sleep posture, receive deep tissue massage every three to four weeks, perform a variety of daily exercises informed by neurobiology, and practice daily meditation to manage my arthritic pain. My neck is not the same as it once was, but it’s functional.
The truth is, I changed too at a deeper level. I treat myself with more compassion. I learned I can’t control everything. In fact, I can barely control anything. But there are choices. I can endure and choose when to press ahead and when to rest. I thought I was strong and steady as a rock. But no. I realize, I am a flower, not a rock. To be handled with care. I’ve come to treasure what matters, a happy dog, kind smiles, leaning on my lover’s shoulders. And I’m grateful.
The stiff neck started in September. My partner and I like to snuggle. The space between his collar bone and pectoral muscles is smooth and cupped concave. It fits my head “just so.” We like to lay together, my head resting in the cool meadow of peace in the mornings. But my neck became sore as if I slept on it wrong. I became more and more uncomfortable with snuggling. And then it was as if an ogre attacked me in late October. The pain in my neck was suddenly acute. What happened?
I tried to get medical attention but given the time of year (when everyone wants to use up their insurance allotment), I could not get in to see any traditional medical provider or specialist for a month and a half. I started seeking alternative treatment to find relief. Over-the-counter medications were useless. Heavy prescription pain medication knocked me out. Acupuncture, chiropractic manipulation, dry needling, physical therapy, and muscle relaxants—all completely useless. I even underwent an experimental Botox simulation (nine shots at once into my neck) that failed. Finally, an MD gave me epidural steroid shots into my C1, C5–6 and C6–7 vertebrae.
The shots rescued me—for a little while, somewhat. Then the pain re-erupted. I had no strength whatsoever. Tears squirted from my eyes. I was in agony and virtually bed bound. I saw twelve different physicians and health care providers over nine months, specialists of all stripes. Problems were found, but no one knew how to treat me, and no one knew what to do. I was told the effects would last my lifetime. I know I’m not alone with this problem. Medical mysteries abound.
Frida Kahlo, Mexico’s most famous woman artist, probably knew more about neck and back pain than anyone. Ms. Kahlo was in a terrible bus accident at age eighteen and suffered more than thirty surgeries over her lifetime. Confined to a hospital bed, lost in a sea of pain, with medical school out of the question and her future turned upside-down, Frida started to paint. Kahlo’s most telling piece, The Broken Column, depicts her spine as a crumbling Greek column. Frida is crying in this portrait, and despite nails piercing her face and body, she looks steadfast at the viewer.
I also thought of Queen Nefertiti. That was a natural thing for me to do. My mother was an artist; she filled my mind with artistic images I drew on throughout my life. I pictured Nefertiti with her iconic neck, long, beautiful, graceful. She wore a tall, flat-topped crown in a famous ancient sculpture. The elongated neck and her exaggerated posture hint at an underlying medical frailty. I wondered what she might have done for pain relief.
My neck injury lands on a continuum, I suspect, between Nefertiti’s and Frida’s. It includes bulging disks, arthritis, calcium growths called osteophytes, and pinched nerves. All of this I saw on x-rays and MRIs, but the trauma underneath was invisible. The bones in our neck protect the delicate spinal cord inside, our highway of nerves for communication between the brain and the rest of the body. The neck joints also allow us to bend our backs and to turn our heads from side to side and up and down, movements I couldn’t make without excruciating pain.
Every vertebra has a purpose. Beginning at the top of the spine are seven cervical vertebrae. Doctors have labelled these C1–C7. The nerves in C1 vertebra control head rotation. Problems in this area are tricky to treat because of C1’s position at the base of the skull, its odd shape, and its proximity to the brain. The nerves in C2–C7 control breathing and the muscles of the arms and legs. That’s why “breaking the neck” can lead to paralysis in full or in part, depending on the injury’s location. My problem centered on C1 but extended to C5–C7.
Whiplash, according to the Mayo Clinic, is the most common cause of neck injury worldwide, affecting millions every year. It is caused by a sudden forceful back and forward movement, or “snap,” to the head, resulting in severe neck pain, stiffness, and headaches lasting for weeks and sometimes months. Cleveland Clinic lists the risk factors for whiplash including:
● age over 65 years (due to bone and muscle degeneration),
● short height,
● being female, and
● car collisions
I checked every box except the car collision, so I looked like a whiplash case. But I wasn’t. Nefertiti probably never had whiplash either, unless her chariot got rear-ended by another. However, she could have strained or sprained her neck wearing a heavy crown all the time. Frida Kahlo, on the other hand, probably did suffer whiplash, and much more.
Neck injuries have dreadful names that can be confusing and difficult to pronounce. Cervical kyphosis indicates a C-shape to the neck, making it weak. Nefertiti’s neck is classic for this shape. I have this problem too. It is hard to correct, as the muscles and bones are “frozen” in place. Decades of poor posture contributed to its development. Cervical spondylosis, another injury, is a fancy name for arthritis in the neck. The Cleveland Clinic reports that nine of ten people over the age of sixty have it. Yes, I have cervical spondylosis too, and I’m guessing Frida also had a severe case since injury adds to the risk.
Pain occurs when calcium growths, called osteophytes, appear on the vertebra, pinching inward on the spinal column (cervical myelopathy) or outward (cervical radiculopathy), compressing nerves that run throughout the body. People who spend hours every day looking down or hunched over a computer screen are more susceptible. These conditions do not physically affect the brain, though once injured, there may be secondary psychological or emotional problems due to intense pain. Treatment prospects are poor. Surgical options include fusing the spine and screwing a metal plate into the neck. These procedures are helpful sometimes but always risky.
My condition was also accompanied by a psychological twist. I endured a major emotional event in late September, the tipping point, perhaps, that triggered my intense pain. The storm had gathered over years of accumulated stress, poor posture, long-past sport injuries, and arthritic aging. My doctors dismissed this explanation (except for posture), but it rings true to my inner voice.
I learned when it comes to neck pain, or any severe pain, you need to be your own advocate. If the issue doesn’t resolve itself quickly, doctors will give you pain medication and/or steroid shots, but these are only temporary fixes. If those treatments concern you (or don’t work for you), there is nothing left in their “black bag” except major surgery. Sometimes surgery is an absolute necessity (if the spinal cord is pinched), but often not. Either way, it is important to get emotional support and/or psychological treatment for chronic pain and to start trials of alternative or holistic approaches to find what works best for your neck. Believe in your own body’s biofeedback.
Neck pain was forever for both Queen Nefertiti and Frida Kahlo, captured in art. But I wanted another outcome. I had to become my own advocate. Like Frida Kahlo, I refused to concede defeat. My path to healing was a journey. I blended traditional and alternative treatment approaches. I’m still taking prescription medication, but I also employ a hot tub on a regular basis, use good sleep posture, receive deep tissue massage every three to four weeks, perform a variety of daily exercises informed by neurobiology, and practice daily meditation to manage my arthritic pain. My neck is not the same as it once was, but it’s functional.
The truth is, I changed too at a deeper level. I treat myself with more compassion. I learned I can’t control everything. In fact, I can barely control anything. But there are choices. I can endure and choose when to press ahead and when to rest. I thought I was strong and steady as a rock. But no. I realize, I am a flower, not a rock. To be handled with care. I’ve come to treasure what matters, a happy dog, kind smiles, leaning on my lover’s shoulders. And I’m grateful.
Cheryl Achterberg writes memoir and creative nonfiction about senior mental health, caregiving, nutrition, and leadership. Her writing has appeared in Her Stry, Brevity Nonfiction Blog, and The Sun, among others. When not writing, she is walking or riding her e-bike in the Colorado foothills, enjoying chocolate, or loving her Mini-Schnauzer. Find her online at www.cherylachterberg.com or LinkedIn.