Cervical Spondylosis: The Silent Damage of Everyday Posture

Retirement is supposed to be a closing curtain. But for Pradip, it became the opening scene for something completely different.
After 35 years of invoice folders and tax forms, he discovered a newfound love for cooking. What began in the quiet of his kitchen soon reached others, as “@cookingwithpradip” started posting short recipes on TikTok. At fifty-seven years old, the retired accountant became an unlikely internet sensation. Soon, he found himself lost in the world of social media, spending hours filming recipes, editing clips and responding to viewers.
As his world expanded into the creative boundaries of content creation, the first ache slowly crept into his neck.
“Too much phone”, his wife said. Pradip laughed it off.
At first, it was only stiffness in the neck. “I probably slept wrong”, he said to himself. Over the weeks, the discomfort became more persistent. The dull ache crawled from the back of his neck into his shoulders, settling between his shoulder blades like a tightening rope. He dismissed it. After all, wasn’t pain a part of growing older?
Little did he know that the pain signified something much deeper than just the passage of time.
Slowly, the pain was no longer confined to short episodes. It lingered while he cooked, while he spoke, even while he smiled for the camera. The constant sense of heaviness had made a home across his neck and upper back. Episodes of sharp pain would occasionally interrupt his activities. Some mornings, he needed several moments before he could move comfortably. Turning his neck became difficult. He started rotating his entire body instead. He reached behind his neck and pressed gently, as if the pain could be pressed away.
One afternoon, while reaching for a pot on the upper shelf, he felt a sudden electric pain shoot from his neck down into his arm. His fingers tingled briefly. The pot slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.
For the first time, Pradip was frightened. He finally felt he needed medical assistance.
The clinic felt unnerving under the cold white lights and the smell of disinfectant, heavy with unspoken tension.
“Cervical Spondylosis”, the doctor said, pointing to the X-ray of his cervical spine. “It is mostly age-related wear and tear, she reassured him. She explained that with repetitive strain and poor posture, the intervertebral discs begin to lose elasticity and eventually degenerate. “Modern habits like prolonged smartphone use are making it worse”, she said, pausing briefly. Pradip immediately remembered the hours he spent leaning over his phone.
The doctor continued, “Neck pain, stiffness, pain over the shoulders and between the shoulder blades, restricted neck movements; they’re all typical symptoms of this condition, usually ignored, too.” Pradip nodded. That is exactly how it began.
“If neglected, the condition may progress. Degenerative changes can compress the nearby nerves which lead to tingling sensation, numbness, weakness or difficulty while using your hands.” Pradip swallowed uneasily. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple.
“Don’t worry”, the doctor reassured him. “Most patients improve with conservative management. Surgery is not required unless the condition develops into something much more severe.”
That evening, after leaving the clinic, Pradip walked home more slowly than usual. The doctor’s words stayed with him, repeating in fragments. Degenerative changes… nerve compression… posture correction… patience. Even the familiar noise of the city seemed distant, softened by the weight of what he had learned.
At home, he set his bag down without turning on the kitchen lights. For a while, he simply sat in silence, his hand resting on the back of his neck as if trying to make sense of it through touch. Then, almost instinctively, he reached for his phone.
The camera app opened first. He adjusted his posture slightly, remembering the doctor’s instructions, lifting his chin, rolling his shoulders back. The familiar recording light blinked on.
He explained it simply, in his own words. The stiffness he had ignored. The tingling he had dismissed. The diagnosis: cervical spondylosis. He spoke about what the doctor had told him. About posture. About long hours on the phone. About how easily the body adapts silently… until it cannot.
The post went live with a single tap and within hours, the video went viral.

Comments flooded in:
“I’m a dentist and my neck hurts daily.”
“I work on the computer all day. Same problem”
“I thought it was just stress.”

For the first time, Pradip felt that it wasn’t just his body carrying the burden but an unspoken reality among many like him.
Treatment began simply. Pain relieving medicines were prescribed for the days when the aching became difficult to tolerate. Warm compresses and gentle massage soothed the tightness around his neck and shoulders, offering temporary comfort after long evenings in the kitchen.
But the real treatment, the doctor had explained, would take patience.
Physiotherapy became a regular part of Pradip’s life. Slow stretches, posture correction, gentle exercises had now replaced hours of scrolling. Under the guidance of his therapist, he learned to hold his head in alignment, to relax the overworked muscles at the base of his skull, and to gently strengthen the weak stabilizers that had long been neglected. Each movement felt small on its own, almost insignificant. Yet together, they formed a quiet discipline that slowly began to relieve months of strain.
Of course, the exercises did not erase the degeneration in his spine. But over time, they eased the stiffness, reduced the pain and helped him move with comfort again. He could sleep more comfortably. The constant ache around his shoulders relaxed enough for him to enjoy his morning tea. Simple acts like rotating his head to talk to people began to feel natural once again instead of feeling restrained.
Pradip continued making videos. The kitchen camera still flickered on each evening, and recipes still found their way onto thousands of screens. But something had changed within him. Between recordings, he now stretched his neck. He lifted the phone to eye level instead of bending toward it. He took breaks. He listened when his body asked for rest.
Cervical spondylosis had not arrived suddenly. It had grown silently through years of unnoticed strain, hidden inside ordinary habits repeated every day. Perhaps that was what unsettled him. Not that the spine could weaken with age, but that the body often whispers long before it begins to scream.
And in the quiet alignment of his spine, he found that the greatest recipe he would ever share was the art of listening to his body.