We got a call from school today that Mr. Z was in the office with a "sore neck." The old lady went in and there he sat, the ubiquitous, cure-all ice pack pressed to the neck/shoulder juncture. Apparently, it started hurting during computer lab, when he "turned his head to the side." The Old Lady gave him some Motrin, massaged his neck a little (actually, that's how she used to woo me in the old days) and sent him back to class.
Cut to after school, when I went to up pick the boy and his sister. He comes walking down the hall like Quasimodo with a broomstick up his ass. His head was tilted to the left, his left shoulder was a foot higher than his right -- the poor kid looked miserable. I got him home, sat him on the couch and put this microwave-heatable, buckwheat neck wrap thing on him. I flicked on this "Making of Star Wars" show I taped on A&E and let him steep for awhile.
Of course, the first thing I thought was that he had some sort of hairline neck fracture, or something. Yesterday, I took him to a classmate's birthday pool party, and Mr. Z was going nutso jumping off the diving board and bouncing around in the moonwalk thingie. I convinced myself that he cracked a vertebra and it was just a matter of time until he was a quadriplegic.
Needless to say, the Old Lady thought I was fucking insane.
He did seem to get a little better as the day went on, but I'm not convinced yet. The truth will be told in the morning. Will he bound out of bed in his usual, spaz-mo-dee manner, or will I walk into his room and find him all "The Other Side of the Mountain" and shit?
Stay tuned, gentle reader...