8/28/25

And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.

Believe it or not, a severely inflamed trapezius muscle caused my moment of happiness this week. Amazing, isn’t it, how pretty intense pain can cause pretty intense joy.

In the beginning of August, I had a fall in a hotel. The hotel decided to replace the carpet in its rooms with linoleum, and then put brand new desk chairs with very slick wheels on top of it. I pushed back from the desk in order to stand up, and the desk chair kept going, while I didn’t. I dropped like a rock to the floor, and among other things, totally jammed my right shoulder.

A few weeks later, it seemed to be getting better. But then I went in for physical therapy for something else entirely – some slight lymphedema from breast cancer years ago in that same jammed arm– and the PT had me lifting weights. Which hurt, but silly me, I thought it was supposed to. Then I had to have an ultrasound done on my thyroid (I’m fine!), and the technician had me turn my head in all sorts of awkward and ridiculous angles. By that night, the side of my neck and the top of my shoulder were roaring. By the next morning, I couldn’t turn my head.

Eventually, I went in to Urgent Care, who said that I’d hurt the trapezius muscle in my fall, and the other things that were done to it, not for it, inflamed it even further. The treatment was Prednisone for 5 days, generous dollops of a BenGay type of ointment, and muscle relaxers. I did it all but the muscle relaxers, and I added a warm stone massage.

So. Who knew that BenGay could cause a flood of memories that would leave me helpless with laughter?

When I popped the lid on the ointment that first night, I was instantly immersed in that particular scent. These types of ointments are loaded with menthol, and the scent is very singular. As soon as I smelled it, I was a kid again. When my grandmother lived with us, each night, she would come in to say goodnight to me, and she would pop open a jar of Vick’s Mentholatum Rub. See the connection? Menthol? Mentholatum? She would rub some just under my nose, so I could smell it, and when I would plead, she’d put just a little bit on my tongue. I have no idea where that started, but I loved the taste. She also kept Hall’s Mentholyptus cough drops in her purse – Menthol? Mentholyptus? – which I ate like candy. When I’m sick with a cold now, that is the only flavor cough drop I reach for.

It was the scent of a loving grandmother offering comfort. Even now, at 65 years of age, I keep one of those little tubes of menthol by my bed – not the lotion, it’s one that you inhale and breathe in. And every night, I do just that. I breathe in that scent, that comfort, and I think of my grandmother.

Smelling the ointment on that night brought me to her. Which brought me to Vicks. Which brought me to Hall’s Mentholyptus. Which brought me to the little tube.

Which brought me to Michael.

Several years ago, I mentioned this memory to him, and about how I loved those little tubes. I didn’t even know if they still made them. But the next day, when he came home from work, he said, “I brought you something!” And he handed me one.

Every night now, that tube connects me to my grandmother. And to Michael.

But there was still one more connection, all from the scent of an ointment which was supposed to ease my pain.

When Michael and I moved in together, he moved from Omaha to here to be with me. I moved in to our rented townhouse first, and he showed up 24 hours later, after a long, long drive with his brother to move all of his things. Then came the unloading of the truck, and everything that comes with moving. When it was finally time to go to sleep, we were both exhausted.

I went into our new and unfamiliar bathroom, filled with things that were also unfamiliar to me. I grabbed my toothbrush, saw Michael’s toothpaste sitting on the counter, and used it, rather than digging out my own. As I brushed, I sighed with happiness and wondered where Michael found a toothpaste that smelled like Vicks Mentholatum. Like BenGay. Like Hall’s Mentholyptus cough drops. Like those little tubes.

And then my mouth began to burn.

I’d brushed my teeth with BenGay. Michael had sore muscles from the move, and he used it liberally, and that night, started what would be his lifetime habit of never putting anything away where it belonged.

I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed, but kept choking on laughter. By the time I fell into bed, I was laughing too hard to even speak. But Michael, when he went to kiss me, figured it out. Mentholatum breath.

I don’t know how long it took us to fall asleep that night. We would just quiet down, and then one of us would start laughing again. It was, for us, a joke that was referred to over and over again for all 25 years of our marriage.

On this night, the first night I rubbed this BenGay wanna-be all over my sore neck and shoulder, I laughed. And when I went to sleep that night, on my own, alone, in a bed that seems way too large now, I was still smiling. And immersed in that scent of menthol, which brings me such comfort.

All because of an inflamed trapezius muscle. The pain was worth it.

And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.