Massage Neglect Syndrome: The Bane of Humor Columnists Everywhere

I suffer from Massage Neglect Syndrome.

At least that's what my chiropractor, Dr. Jared Himsel, says. I mention his name, because he's a doctor, and if a doctor says it, it must be true. Jared has been working on my neck for the last couple of weeks, and has been having trouble getting it to adjust.

"Jeez, your neck is really tight today," he said a couple of days ago.

"You could write a prescription for a massage that I can give to Toni.," I said. Toni is my wife.

"That's a good idea," he said, and grabbed a special form called a Letter of Medical Necessity. He wrote out that I had Massage Neglect Syndrome, which resulted in a stiff and sore neck.

"Requires one 30 minute neck massage each day for a week from his wife," said the form. I showed it to said wife when I got home.

"Yeah, right" she said, unsympathetically. "Looks like you're going to have neck problems."

"But you have to. It's on a Medical Necessity form. That's not just a suggestion, it's a Necessity."

"Uh huh."

"No really. There's even a name for it. Massage Neglect Syndrome. They don't give those names out to just any old affliction. It's an honest-to-God Syndrome. See, it's capitalized and everything. That means it's serious."

"I'm not buying it," she said. "I know you put Jared up to it."

My oldest daughter grabbed the Letter of Medical Necessity out of my hands.

"What's this?" she asked. I grabbed it back, scribbled something on it, and gave it back to her.

"Requires one 30 minute neck massage each day for a week from his wife or oldest daughter? Daddy!"

"See, it says so right there. Doctor's orders"

"It's in a different ink color."

"That's for emphasis."

"I saw you write it."

"Uh, I was highlighting it so you could see it better."

"I'm not buying it."

I called for my youngest daughter. "Sweetie!"

"I'm not buying it either!" she hollered from her room.

"Me either!" hollered my son, without even waiting to be asked.

So I sit at my computer, silently suffering from my horrible affliction. Massage Neglect Syndrome strikes dozens of humor columnists every day, and the only relief is for our spouses or significant others to massage our necks for at least 15 minutes per day, if not 30 minutes. Won't somebody please think of the humor columnists?
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